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***Bob Schroeck*** · 2016-09-16: Moving Days, Part II

Moving Days, Part II
A "KanriKyara" Story
by Robert M. Schroeck
with Rob Kelk

Douglass Gardens Apartments
Sunday, September 18, 2016

Well. Talk about busy weekends. And it was only Sunday morning.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Our Friday morning batch of surprise guests turned out to be a significant subset of the cast of Magic Knight Rayearth. We recognized the girls right off -- there aren't very many trios of early teen girls with their distinctive set of red pigtail, brown shoulder-length and blue waist-length hairstyles, not to mention their animate marshmallow bouncing around the room going "Pu!" every few seconds. But it wasn't just them -- there were also the various knightly types, plus Clef the wizard (who could give Yoda a run for his money at being short and wise), Ascot the little kid with big friends, and... well. Another big crew, let's just say that. In more ways than one... The Mashin were fortunately nowhere to be seen, but dollars to donuts if the girls called for their super robot kami, they'd appear.

Fortunately Peggy and I remembered enough about MKR to realize that we needed to persuade Ascot not to check on his "friends" right away, so the group didn't get unmanageably bigger. But it was only a matter of time. We were going to need someplace large and secluded.

Hm. The playground at the back of the complex (and the nearby parking) was reasonably well-screened by trees and buildings... I put a pin in that thought for the moment.

Fortunately, thanks to the nature of their home ficton they already had a grasp on parallel worlds and transitions between timelines, so it didn't take long to explain what had happened to them. Getting them to believe the specifics of the case... well, it took our old box set of MKR and a couple hours to convince everyone. By that point we'd had to order lunch in, and while it was on its way, we worked out who would room with whom. The girls plus Mokona in a 2BR was a given. The rest... well, that took a bit more wrangling, but we got it done.

(When I made a tongue-in-cheek suggestion that we save on an apartment for the girls and just have Mokona manifest a magic hut in one of the parking lots every night, Peggy elbowed me and reassured them that yes, they did get to live in a regular building then instructed them to not listen to her husband when he was being silly. When I pointed out that probably meant they'd never listen to me, Hikaru and Fuu giggled and I got elbowed again.)

Anyway, while Peg handed out keys and led everyone to their new apartments, I texted our first batch of residents and let them know that a) they had new neighbors, and b) we were springing for dinner again so everyone could meet everyone else. I didn't want to actually ring them up because pretty much all of them were at school and they wouldn't be able to take the calls anyway; it was easier and less disruptive to send a mass text. (And did I mention we'd gotten everyone's Docomo phones set up on Verizon only a couple days before? Not fun.) It also stood a far better chance of reaching everyone in time than leaving a message in their voice mailboxes on the complex's internal phone system.

As soon as the moving-in was done, we got everyone out of armor and into whatever borrowed clothing would fit them for a mass groceries run -- at which point I realized that most of our new guests probably didn't know how to operate a kitchen appliance more advanced than an open fireplace. We were going to have to teach them before someone accidentally started a fire or set off a gas explosion. I let Peg take point on the shopping and pulled the Knights themselves to one side before we entered the Stop & Shop. "I've got a question for you," I said. "How comfortable are you three in a kitchen?"

They shared a look among themselves before Umi fixed me with a gimlet eye. "Why do you want to know?" she demanded.

"All your friends," I said, "are from a pseudo-medieval world. They don't know a gas range from gas pains. They're going to need to be taught a whole lot of things we" -- and I gestured at the four of us -- "take for granted, if only for safety's sake."

Hikaru's eyes got nearly as large as they looked when animated, and Fuu had a thoughtful expression. "Of course," she murmured. "I should have thought of that myself."

"And what about you three?" I asked. "Mokona provided all your meals during your adventures. Can you handle yourselves in a mundane kitchen without him?"

The three of them glanced uncomfortably at each other. Finally Umi said, "...I can bake?" while Hikaru mumbled something about scrambling eggs and making sandwiches while tugging on the end of her waist-length braid.

I bit my lip and nodded to myself. "That's a good start. You probably know your way around well enough. But there's more to cooking than that." I closed my eyes. I knew I was going to regret this. "Look, I'm handy in the kitchen. I wouldn't call myself a chef, but I'm better than average. If you want, I can teach you what basics you still need -- I can probably give you a good foundation in an afternoon." As they considered this, I added, "Or you can ask Ui Hirasawa -- you'll meet her at dinner tonight. She's much better than I am." And way more patient, I didn't add. "Either way, you can share what you learn with your friends from Cephiro."

They shared a look again, then Fuu said, "I think we'd like to discuss it among ourselves before we make any kind of a decision, Mr. Schroeck."

"You can call me Bob, Fuu," I said, even though I knew that, like Ui, she probably wouldn't. "And fair enough," I went on. "Just... keep your friends safe, first. And if any or all of you need help with meals, let us know. We can make arrangements until you're all comfortable fending for yourselves. All right?"

That got me three tentative smiles and a chorus of affirmative "Uh-huh!"s, which I supposed was the equivalent to the Japanese "uhn!" that the language magic had given them.

"Good," I said. "Now let's get you your groceries."

Peggy was not amused to find I had left her to deal on her own with the culture shock inherent in leading a bunch of medieval types into a modern grocery store, but she eventually got over it. Clef, being used to the weird as a wizard, took everything in stride but Lafarga and the rest were more than a little stunned by ... well, everything. As she told me later, she had to explain everything practically from first principles -- the closest equivalent Cephiro had to the Stop & Shop was the once-a-week open-air markets most towns had where nearby farmers and craftsmen sold their goods, and there were entire aisles the contents of which had no counterparts in our guests' experience.

(Speaking of equivalents and counterparts, Peggy was very glad to find out that, in one of those things that the anime never mentioned, Cephiro actually had a counterpart to toilet paper, and that she didn't need to explain what it was and why it should be used. And, more importantly, that Cephiro had a close enough equivalent to flush toilets that we didn't have to explain in detail what they were or how they were to be used, as well. I don't think Peg or I would have enjoyed either lesson had we needed to teach it.)

Fortunately for everyone involved, our guests were sophisticated enough that -- after their initial bogglement -- they took all the novelty in stride instead of matters devolving into some clichéd comedy rampage through the store. What with the intersection of reality and fiction we'd been living in for several days now, I was just ever so slightly worried about being whipsawed by some stupid genre convention that suddenly insisted on being applied to the real world. Thankfully, not this time. After about an hour -- much of which was spent explaining things -- we had everyone stocked up with food items that required no cooking or just heating in a microwave. (Which, when we got back, we explained to those who needed it, along with the refrigerator.) And all was well. We hoped.

Upon our return to our apartment we found a Celestial waiting for us. Not entirely unexpected, given what had happened when the K-On! folks had arrived. This time we didn't merit a visit by Bell -- we got a brown-haired girl with little brushlike ponytails, dressed in a purple off-the-shoulder dress, who might as well have had a neon sign reading "TRAINEE" flashing over her head given the air of jittery nervousness about her. To spare the poor thing any further stress -- and boy, does that sound wrong to write about a goddess -- Peg and I accepted the stack of packets she was carrying and promised her we'd hand them all out properly.

She thanked us and all but ran out the door. I found myself wondering what her transport medium was before Peg prodded me and we trudged back out to visit our new tenants again.

A couple hours after that, we had dinner in the community center. After careful consultation with the Knights as well as with our established residents, we ordered it through GrubHub from Midori, pretty much our go-to take-out Japanese place. When it showed up, we set it all up buffet-style in the kitchen just in time for people to start drifting in to the community center.

We made an effort at introductions, but they weren't entirely needed -- Sawako and some of the older K-On! girls had recognized the Magic Knights and their companions immediately, and before we knew it, the two groups had become one noisy and cautiously-friendly mob, exchanging experiences and advice over dinner. Yui, of course, was right in the middle of it all, turning strangers into friends by sheer force of personality, just like she did on their show -- all the while clutching an apparently blissed-out Mokona to her chest like a marshmallow-shaped plushie.

An hour later, all the foodstuffs had been wiped out completely, and the lot of them were crammed into and around the sectional. Chairs from the dining room had been brought in to add extra seats, and I noticed that Ascot was comfortably perched in Ritsu's lap. It occurred to me that maybe she might be missing her little brother. Mugi and Sumire were snuggled together as though they were genuine sisters -- and honestly, as far as I was concerned, they were. And Peg and I shared a smile when we noticed that Azusa was sitting in Yui's lap as well.

If anyone felt crowded, they didn't complain. They were too busy being enthralled by sample episodes not only of K-On! and (more) MKR but things like Sailor Moon and A Certain Scientific Railgun. The last two made sense because we'd mentioned to Ritsu and Mio that the Senshi had moved into Rob's place in Ottawa just the day before, joining the Railgun refugees there.

The Knights, to my surprise, knew Sailor Moon. For a moment I thought that was bizarrely anachronistic -- wasn't MKR an '80s anime? -- but a quick check of Wikipedia on my smartphone let me know I was wrong. Turned out that Magic Knight Rayearth's premiere post-dated Sailor Moon's by a couple years -- which meant that Sailor Moon was still the new hotness for Hikaru, Umi and Fuu. No wonder learning that Usagi and her gang were living just a few hundred miles north excited them so.

After a little while Peg and I ducked into the kitchen to make popcorn and grab drinks for everyone, and with that the watching session mutated slowly into more of a party atmosphere. The Cephirans eventually relaxed and got into the mood, despite what had to be to them pretty alien surroundings. But they took their cues from the Knights, who were treating it all like a night over at a friend's house, and finally a certain tension, almost surely born of battle readiness in the face of the unknown and the strange, faded to a level where I was no longer able to notice it.

That's when I finally relaxed. I'd been hoping that Umi, Fuu and Hikaru's reactions would set the tone for the others, but I'd still worried that something would go wrong and we'd have some kind of standoff happen. But I was glad to see that my anxiety about that was, like so much of my other anxiety, unwarranted. I glanced over at Peg, and I'm pretty sure she had never noticed. Which was okay, I noticed stuff she didn't, and she noticed stuff I missed. We weren't bad at covering for each other that way.

The combined quantities of popcorn, drinks and wakefulness started dwindling not long before midnight, so with some reluctance on the part of the viewers, the evening came to a close. Peg and I made sure that the new residents could find their apartments (and get into them), then strolled in the warm late summer night, arms around each other, through the parking lot and across the street back to our place. By one AM we had changed and slid into bed, and my last thought before falling asleep was something along the lines of "well, that's our excitement for the weekend, already done with."

Silly me.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

The next morning dawned sunny and a bit unseasonably cool, but the temperature quickly rose to something close to typical even as the sky clouded over. Even though we'd been up for a couple hours already, Peg and I only got around to breakfast at about ten A.M. I'd made French toast for us that morning (with cinnamon, vanilla and sweetener in the egg dip, a combination that merged the three best recipes I'd encountered as a kid), with bacon on the side (maple honey, from the Amish market in Kingston -- best bacon in the world, hands down), and as we ate we discussed the previous day's events.

"Looks like none of our new tenants had problems with breakfast this morning," I commented, glancing out the window. We couldn't actually view the part of the complex where we'd put the MKR cast from where we sat, so any telltale plumes of black smoke were potentially out of sight. Still, I was reasonably confident.

"Mm?" Peg murmured through a forkful of custardy whole-wheat bread and syrup. "How do you know?"

I gestured with my own fork toward the area that served as our office. "No panicked calls on the office line -- so far, at least -- no fire trucks in the parking lot, no sirens..."

Peg rolled her eyes. "They could just be taking a while to decide what to eat."

"Yeah, I suppose," I said before taking a sip of my OJ. "But I doubt those three girls are going to let them starve. Or even let them sit around hungry."

Just to be sure, after we cleaned up from breakfast, Peg and I went around door-to-door checking on all the Cephirans and the Knights. And yeah, as it turned out, Fuu, Hikaru and Umi had organized a group breakfast-slash-cooking lesson in their apartment. They had settled on an odd combination of Japanese and American staples, including breakfast cereals, mostly granolas or whole-grain oat or rice products. (I didn't know it at the time, but Japan did have its own cereal brands and varieties, and during shopping the day before the girls had bought a few things that at least resembled what they were used to.)

It had been a whole production number, we learned, but as we had expected most everyone had already had some experience at cooking their own meals, and all they really needed was a crash course in the local ingredients and appliances. Which the Knights gladly gave them, clearly having had a great time in the process, judging from the smiles on everyone's faces when we got there.

We arrived at the end of the lesson and meal, just in time for their cleanup, which we offered to help with. "Did everything work out okay?" Peg asked as we (figuratively) rolled up our T-shirt sleeves.

"Oh yes!" Hikaru chirped.

"I have to admit," Lantis said, "Now that I've seen them in use, I'm going to miss self-lighting cooking fires when we go home."

"No worries there," Presea declared breezily from her perch on a wooden stool in the dining area. "I'm sure Master Clef and I can come up with something anyone can use."

"Quite," Clef agreed as Peg filled up a pan with hot sudsy water and I carried dishes over to the adjacent counter. "The design and creation of such a tool will be both a challenge and a distraction while we are here in this world."

As the entire group started discussing the potential magic item -- with it gaining proposed features that sounded more like a portable cooktop than a fire-lighter -- I noticed Fuu standing patiently at my elbow. "Yes, Fuu?"

"Mr. Schroeck, is there somewhere nearby where we could get a proper pan for tamagoyaki? We tried with a round frying pan, but it didn't come out looking right."

"H-mart," Peg said absently, scrubbing vigorously at the pan in question.

"Right!" I said to her, then turned back to Fuu. "Like Peg said, H-mart. That's a large Asian grocery just a few miles away -- we took some of the other girls there last week so they could pick up a few things. They have a cookware section that I'm pretty sure has what you want. If that's all you want I could run you over there this afternoon, otherwise we can set up a shopping trip sometime in the next couple days. Or maybe Ui would loan you one of her pans?" I chuckled. "She and Yui pooled the money they got for their initial supplies, then spent half of it on clothes and toiletries, and the other half on cookware."

Fuu nodded as Hikaru giggled and Umi raised an eyebrow. "That's a good suggestion. We'll have to ask her."

With the challenge imposed by the Breakfast of Cephirans hurdled, Peg and I were sure the rest of the weekend was going to be calm. So naturally, a bit before four that afternoon a motorcycle gang roared into the complex.

Well... "gang" is exaggerating things. It was six girls and one senior citizen.

And I recognized them all even before I could see their faces.

About six months earlier I'd watched almost all of an anime series called Bakuon!! online. A "slice of life" series like K-On!, only with motorcycles instead of music, it revolved around a group of high school girls and their adventures both on the road and off. I'd quite enjoyed it even though it was relatively low-key and kind of quirky. (I mean, really? Jesus on the road to Aomori handing out the Holy Grail?) It wasn't my normal fare.

But right now a pink-helmeted rider in jodhpurs atop an equally pink motorcycle was pulling in to park in the lot behind our building, followed by six more cycles and scooters, including a Ducati with a sidecar and a bright green bike with a seifuku-clad rider who had a huge red bow on the back of her helmet. "Peg?" I called from where I stood at the window at the back of the ground floor.

"What?" she yelled back from upstairs.

"I think we have another batch of new residents inbound." I dashed over to the back door, grabbed my sneakers from the boot tray, and started pulling them on.

"What? Who?" she added from the top of the stairs.

"I'm heading outside to meet them," I shouted, then suited word to deed. By the time I got outside, the pink rider had dismounted and pulled her helmet off to reveal, as I had expected, shoulder-length brown hair and wing-shaped barrettes over her ears. How does she wear those under a helmet? I couldn't help wondering, and did my best to ignore the smallest of the group, who had brown ponytails that seemed to sprout right from the top of her helmet. As the door shut behind me, she looked up at the sound and smiled at me.

"Hi," I said, stepping forward the couple feet that separated the back wall of the building from the parking spots, "welcome to Douglass Gardens."

"Hi," she said as the others got off their cycles or scooters and the girl with long dark hair scrambled out of the sidecar. "Are you Bob, um, Shrohk?"

"Schroeck," I replied, correcting her pronunciation. "Yes. You wouldn't happen to be Hane Sakura, would you?"

If anything, her smile got bigger and brighter, and she turned back to the others. "See? I told you it would be all right!" Then she turned back to me. "Yes, I'm Hane, and these are all my friends from the Motorcycle Club at Okanoue Girls' High School."

I nodded to them. "Like I said, welcome. I guess I don't have to explain what's happened to you, then?"

A couple of the other girls laughed, and Hane bit her lip. "Well, actually, we were told to come here and you would fill us in."

"What?" I asked conversationally.

Well. Long story short, yesterday by their personal clocks the club had been on an excursion in their 2012 and had bunked down at a youth hostel in Kyoto for the night. But when they woke up this morning they were in a motel in Fall River, Massachusetts (and one part of my mind couldn't help but start replaying "Lizzie Borden" by the Chad Mitchell Trio¹ when I heard that).

When they got back from breakfast (and a vigorous discussion of what had happened over same), Hane found a stack of cash and a sheet of what appeared to be genuine parchment in her room. On the parchment was a week-long itinerary for a trip that ended in Okeechobee, Florida, with half their overnight stops being at Funtom residences along the way. (And when they weren't staying at residences there were notes to the effect of "reservations have been made for you at Motel X, thus-and-such address".) The residence stops listed the managers' names, and in our case there was a note that did indeed say that we would fill them in on what had happened.

It was obvious a Celestial had set it all up, and I was pretty sure I knew who.

So... we filled them in on what had happened.

We got them all settled in on the sectional around the TV in the community center. We made tea and we served snacks. Then Peg and I started in on the presentation that was getting both very familiar and very practiced: Multiverse. Crisis. Heaven and Hell in emergency mode. Metaphysical ejection seats for certain people. Sliding down the energy slope to Refuge. Oh, and here's your show on Crunchyroll to prove that neither we nor you are insane.

While the subsequent expected uproar commenced, Peg slipped into one of the rehearsal rooms to phone in a dinner order, since a certain Someone had clearly designated us as providers of room and board for the night. When she came back out -- still mid-uproar -- she had Hokago Tea Time and a few hangers-on with her. I gave her a raised eyebrow.

"They were here practicing," she said in response to my unspoken question. "I asked them to join in because I figured it might help this bunch to talk to someone who's already gone through it."

I nodded. "Good idea. Um. What about dinner?"

She smiled slyly at me. "I made the order big enough for all of them together."

"Clever woman," I said with my own smile. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

She playfully elbowed me. "There was more than that and you know it." A few feet away Ritsu and Azusa snickered.

I gave her a mock pout before turning my attention back to our guests. "Ladies -- and gentleman," I added, nodding to Hijiri's butler/driver Hayakawa (what was his first name, anyway?), who had stayed out of the furious discussion. When they quieted down and had their attention, I continued. "I'd like to introduce a few of our tenants, who are displacees like you and maybe can help you come to terms with what's happened. This is Yui, Ui, Ritsu, Mugi, Mio, Azusa, Nodoka and Nao." One by one our girls waved as I named them.

For a long moment, there was absolute silence from the members of the motorcycle club. Then Hane asked, "Yui Hirasawa?"

"Yes?" Yui replied with a puzzled look.

"Ritsu Tainaka?" Hane continued.

"That's me!" Ritsu said with hands spread and a big grin.

Next thing I knew Hane was standing right in front of Yui. "You're Hokago Tea Time, like, for real!"

Yui's puzzlement faded as understanding and a broad smile spread across her face. "We're a TV show in your universe, too, aren't we?"

"Only like the biggest thing in the last year or two!" Hane declared. "I love your music!"

"The voice actresses did do a really good job of sounding like us," Mugi serenely noted.

"But we're better at sounding like us than they are," Ritsu added. "Right, Mio?"

"Of course we are," Mio muttered, rolling her eyes. "Idiot." I saw her hand twitch and realized she was valiantly resisting the urge to clonk Ritsu on the head.

Yui was apparently ignoring all this byplay -- she'd reached out and grasped Hane's hands in hers. "And you have an anime in this universe just like we do? We're going to have to watch it! Oh! And did you have Magic Knight Rayearth in your universe?"

"Yes?" Hane clearly had no idea what Yui was on about with that sudden right turn.

Yui almost bounced in place. "They're living here, too! You have to meet them -- the Knights are really nice, and Ascot is just the cutest thing!" She leaned in an added in a conspiratorial tone, "And Lantis, Ferio and Lafarga are totally dreamy."

"You'd think she'd never seen a boy before," Azusa muttered just barely loud enough for me to overhear her.

"We did go to an all-girls school," Ritsu pointed out in equally low tones.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Azusa snarked.

"Aaaaanyway," I interrupted. "Before anyone starts making any plans, our guests here" -- and I gestured at the members of the Okanoue Girls' School Motorcycle Club, assembled -- "aren't new residents."

Yui turned to me, puzzlement blazoned across her face. "They aren't?"

"Well," I amended, "not here at least."

"Nope!" Hane chirped. "We're on our way to Florida! We were told to stop here overnight." She frowned. "I'm still not sure where Florida is, though."

"At the end of our great adventure, of course!" Onsa declared confidently with a fist pump. Next to her, Rin rolled her eyes.

I leaned into Peggy and whispered, "She wants Great Adventure, she just needs to go south thirty miles."² She elbowed me in the side.

With the ice broken, the two groups of girls quickly became one group lounging on and around the sectional. They started out by eagerly discussing their worlds and shows, and where Florida was and what there was to see there. This led into our girls giving the Motorcycle Club the lowdown on what living in Refuge was like. Hayakawa stood back and silently watched over them with an indulgent little smile on his face. He was a bit of a mystery to me -- Bakuon!! pretty much stated outright that he was a World War II veteran, which would have made him at least ninety-something, but he didn't look anywhere near that old.

But if you wanted to talk mystery, there was a better candidate -- one who had yet to take her helmet off, and who communicated with head shakes, nods, gestures, and the odd sentence written on a handy pad. I studied the woman who went by the name "Lime Kawasaki" for a moment before leaning in close to Peg again. "Keep an eye on everything for a few minutes, okay? There's something I think needs doing."

"Huh?" she said, turning to look at me. "What?"

I nodded toward Lime. "Her."

Peggy frowned in puzzlement for a moment. "Okay..."

"This shouldn't take long," I said. Then I stepped over to where Lime sat, tapped her on the shoulder, and whispered, "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

A minute later I was closing the door of a rehearsal room behind us. When I turned around, she was standing only a few feet away, her helmet canted in a pose of obvious curiosity.

Knowing that leading up to the topic I wanted to broach with small talk was neither appropriate nor likely in this situation, I decided to launch right into things. I took a deep breath. "Okay," I began. "It wasn't in the first episode, but the anime eventually makes it very clear that you are not a high school senior. Your name is known to be an alias, and you are -- or at least were -- no more a member of the modern Motorcycle Club than I am. Based on what viewers are shown, it's obvious you're in your late thirties or maybe even early forties -- at least! Beyond that..." I chuckled. "Fans on the internet are not agreed. Some think you're a ghost, killed in the race that shut down the club twenty years before Hane and Onsa restarted it. Others think you're a lesser kami. A small faction thinks you're perfectly mortal but horribly scarred under your helmet, which is why you never take it off or are seen to speak."

Lime gave a shruglike gesture that clearly transmitted, "Yeah, so?"

I smiled. "It doesn't really matter what you are, honestly, although I will admit to a great and powerful curiosity. The reason I'm telling you this is to warn you to come clean with the girls of the club, as quickly as you can. They will find out, one way or another." I thought back to the day Yui and everyone first showed up, and then just yesterday. "If not from watching your show, then the day that a Celestial shows up to hand those five girls their local high school enrollments, and has nothing for you. If they find out from anyone other than you, they are going to feel hurt and betrayed, and maybe wonder at your true motives. There are, after all, very few legitimate reasons for a woman in her thirties to pretend to be a high school girl and hang out with high school girls. And you have no proof that the principal asked you to watch over them."

She brandished her ID card.

"Yeah, but you could have submitted forged documents to get that."

This stumped her for a moment, then by her posture it was clear she'd thought of something. She pulled that pad out of wherever she kept it, scribbled frantically for a few moments, then held it up. "You knew that Tazuko-chan asked me. So it's in the anime and they'll see it."

I nodded. "True, but will they see it soon enough to forgive you? Tell them before it becomes an issue. What do you have to lose?"

Her shoulders slumped as she scrawled a short response on the pad and held it up. "Their friendship."

I sighed and wondered what her life outside the series had to have been like that she'd basically lived for twenty years in an unused club room and seemed to have no contemporaries as friends other than the principal. Maybe she was a ghost or a kami. "If you don't tell them, you'll definitely lose their friendship. If you do, maybe they'll be upset for a while, but they won't turn their backs on you."

The pad vanished as she shrugged again, her body language eloquently annotating the movement and making it clear she didn't agree with me.

I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay, it's your choice, I'm not trying to force you to do anything. I just thought... I just wanted to offer some advice, from the perspective of a neutral observer."

She nodded in acknowledgment, and offered an abbreviated bow.

"You're welcome," I said, returning the bow. "Whatever you choose, I hope it works out well." I hesitated for a moment as I considered my next question, then decided to plunge forward anyway regardless of the wisdom of it (or lack thereof). "One more thing, please? If it's not too much to ask, could I please see what you look like under that helmet?"

Lime and I were leaving the rehearsal room a few minutes later when we ran into the entire crowd, laughing and chattering and barreling down the hallway. "What're you up to now?" I asked.

"We're going back to practicing," Mugi said as she passed, "And everyone's sitting in."

"Our first real audience since landing in Refuge!" Ritsu called back over her shoulder.

"Whoo-hoo!" yelled Onsa. "This is gonna be great!" The soundproofing in the hall turned what should have been an ear-piercing shout into something oddly muffled-sounding.

Lime nodded to me and joined her clubmates as girls streamed past me in ones and twos. At the end of the line was a serene Hayakawa, followed by Peggy, who had an amused smile on her face. When she got into arm's length I pulled her close to me and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Forgot to ask," I said a moment later. "When's dinner coming?"

She raised her phone into view and checked the time. "About forty-five minutes, I think."

"Okay, cool. You want to listen to the girls play for a bit before we have to set up and wait for the delivery?"

She nodded. "Yeah, sounds good."

And that's what we did.

After about a half an hour of familiar J-pop/pop-punk tunes, some with experimental English lyrics and some done as sing-alongs with our guests, Peg and I slipped back out of the rehearsal room to prepare for dinner. By now this kind of thing was getting to be routine -- this was, what, the fourth or fifth group meal we'd held in the community center in the last week or so? Something like that. When I first saw the blueprints, I figured that we'd see our tenants use the kitchen and dining room infrequently at best, what with them having their own after all. I didn't anticipate that Peg and I would end up hosting dinners there what seemed like every other night, just in the first week we were open.

At least Funtom was paying for it all.

Anyway, given the number of people we'd be serving, we opted once more for buffet-style dining. Not long after we'd set up stacks of dinner and sandwich plates, piles of silverware and paper-wrapped disposable chopsticks, a napkin dispenser and various condiments on the dining room table, a ringing doorbell and both our phones announced the arrival of our order. We duly found a delivery guy with several large brown paper bags waiting on the front porch. We thanked him, and as I brought the bags in, Peg started a big pot of tea brewing.

We had just finished laying all the various containers along the table when the door to the studio and the rehearsal rooms burst open, disgorging a small horde of hungry teenagers who streamed across the living room to the dining room. "Oh, cool, Midori!" Ritsu said when she got close enough to see the table. At her side was Hijiri, and Ritsu turned to her to add, "Good food, almost like home. They also do this teppanyaki kinda stuff the Americans call 'hibachi' for some reason,³ and that's pretty good, too."

"Come on in, everyone," Peggy called out. "Grab a plate and serve yourselves."

"Dig right in," I added. "And if you want to try some of that 'teppanyaki kinda stuff', we have chicken, shrimp and filet mignon down at this end." I put a big goofy smile on my face and rubbed my stomach. "Mmmmm, filet mignon! My favorite!"

Yui, Ui and Hane giggled in unison as Mio rolled her eyes. "Yes, Bob-san," she said. "You've told us every time."

"It is good, though," Ritsu assured Hijiri.

An hour later Peg and I were in the kitchen cleaning up the aftermath of dinner while the combined casts were watching more Bakuon!! in the sitting area. Hayakawa was helping us, and in talking to him during the cleanup we learned quite a bit more about him than the show ever revealed -- including an entertaining anecdote about a time during World War II where he had to disguise himself as a woman.⁴

Meanwhile, most of what we heard from the other room was the show's soundtrack -- in Japanese, because it was only available subtitled -- except for occasional soft chatter, bursts of laughter, and a couple embarrassed-sounding squeals. But then there was the moment where the entire room started chanting "Show it, Rin, show it! Show it, Rin, show it!"

"What? No!" a certain blonde biker shrieked as the chant dissolved into industrial-strength laughter that carried clearly into the kitchen.

Peg and I exchanged a look. "What are they...?" she began.

I checked the clock. "It's gotta be the episode where they stopped at a hot springs," I told her, then glanced at Hayakawa, who was smiling indulgently.

"It is," he confirmed. "And I'm sure Miss Suzunoki is mortified to learn that her... marking was broadcast on national television, even in an animated form in another universe."

"And then internationally with the licensing of the anime," I added.

"Her marking?" Peg asked.

I turned back to her. "When they get to the springs, they all strip and dive in. When they do, they discover that Rin has the Suzuki logo branded on her butt thanks to a boneheaded stunt by her dad when she was little. And she didn't know about it until then, either."⁵

"Oh, my god," she said after a moment's surprise, then barked out a laugh. "Do you think...?"

I shook my head. "I wouldn't bet on it. I expect they're just teasing her."

"I am sure that your young ladies are as well behaved as mine," Hayakawa said with that same indulgent smile. "Besides, there has been no cheering or clapping. I believe it is certain that Miss Suzunoki retains both her dignity and her trousers."

"You're probably right," I chuckled. "But just in case -- when we're done here, you go in first."

"Of course," he replied as Peggy laughed.

And fifteen minutes later, after the leftovers had been packed up and put in the fridge (including seven improvised bento boxes assembled for our guests' lunch on the road the next day) and all the dirty dishes were in the dishwasher, true to his word Hayakawa led us back into the sitting room. As we stepped out of the dining room, Hijiri was saying, "I come across as kind of clueless," to what I'm sure would have been a roomful of chirping crickets had the show's soundtrack not been filling the space. Then they noticed us, and someone paused the playback.

"Ladies," I said as Hayakawa took a seat to one side of the crowd, "You all having a good time?"

An affirmative chorus answered me. "Good, good. So, Peggy and I are going to head back to our place, but before we easily-tired old people call it a night," which got me laughs, "let's get everyone set up with their rooms and keys, and that way you can stay up as late as you want."

Yui waved and said, "Bob? Hane's staying with us tonight, if that's okay?" Which I probably should have guessed, given how tightly Hane was wedged between Ui and Yui, who had their arms around her. Her eyes looked a little red, as though she'd been crying, and... Oh! Oh, of course. I should have realized right away. Trust the Hirasawa sisters and their empathy to catch that before I did.

Hane's sister Yume hadn't been displaced to Refuge with the club, and I'd guess it'd only now hit her what that meant.

"Certainly," I replied approvingly.

"And Chisame's staying over with Jun and me," Azusa called out. Another one I should have guessed -- the two had been joined at the hip all evening, their heads together as if conspiring over something. And now that I thought of it, didn't they have the same family name? Automatic connection, I guess.

"Sure." I looked around at the rest of the room. "Anyone else crashing in someone's apartment? No? Okay, if you want to take a break, c'mon over to the office and we'll get you set up with keys." And fifteen minutes after that, three one-bedroom units near the end of building 2 had been allocated for our guests: Rin and Onsa in one, Hijiri and Lime in another, and Hayakawa by himself.

"The doors are all marked, so you shouldn't have problems finding the apartments," Peggy said as we handed over the keys. "If you do, Yui or the other girls can help. Oh, and I'm afraid you'll have to make your beds -- the apartments all have linens but the beds are bare right now."

"That won't be a problem, will it?" Hayakawa replied while looking at the girls. Except for Lime they all made noises of agreement, and she gave a thumbs-up.

"Oh! One more thing!" I said. "Tell everyone I'll be making American-style breakfast tomorrow, starting at 9 AM, back in the community center. No need to hurry, though -- I'll keep cooking and serving until everyone's been fed."

The girls with visible faces grinned at each other, and Hayakawa made a formal bow to us, which we did our best to return. "Thank you for all you've done for us," he said. "You have been very generous."

"You're very welcome," we both replied. Then, with "good night"s all around, we ushered them out. Peg and I both kept a watchful eye on them as they crossed Annette Court and re-entered the community center, and then we closed up for the night.⁶

"Give me a few minutes, Peg -- I just thought of something I should do."

From: Bob Schroeck (bob.schroeck@managers.yggdrasil)

To: Heather Raven (heather.raven@managers.yggdrasil)

Subject: Heads up! You've got guests incoming!
Date: September 18, 2016, 11:23 PM

Heather:

The cast of Bakuon!! -- six girls, one older man, all on motorcycles -- is going to to show up on your doorstep at some point tomorrow. They're on a roadtrip apparently arranged by a Celestial who's sending them from where they showed up in Massachusetts to what I'm guessing is their new residence in Florida. I looked at the itinerary they were given (no, they don't know who -- although if you've seen the show you can probably guess), and half their stops are at residences -- yours included. Peg and I wanted to give you advance notice just in case you got as much warning as we did -- which is to say, none. Depending on when they get there, they'll need a meal or three (expense it all to Funtom, of course) and a place to crash. Beyond that they shouldn't be any trouble -- they all seem to be nice girls, and Hayakawa's great if you can get him out of butler mode.

Have fun!

-- Bob

Shortly after that we were changing for bed, and as we did so we discussed the day's events. "What was it that you talked to Lime about?" Peg asked as she came out of the en suite.

I closed my Kindle and put it down on the nightstand. "I warned her what might happen if the girls in the Motorcycle Club find out about her true age before she tells them."

She frowned in puzzlement. "How are they... oh. High school enrollments."

"Yeah." I leaned back into my pillow and closed my eyes. "Or just even watching another episode or two more before they call it a night -- I don't remember when the first hints about her dropped, but it gets stupidly obvious pretty fast." I sighed. "I warned her. It's on her, whatever happens."

Peggy climbed into bed next to me and turned out the light on her nightstand. "I thought you were going to do something stupid like ask her to take off her helmet."

"Ah, well, I did that, too," I admitted, glancing over at her.

"Oh, Bob." She gave me a disgusted look. "Well?" she added a few seconds later.

"Well what?"

"Well, did she? Take off her helmet?"

"Oooooh," I said in exaggerated mock comprehension. "Yeah, she did," I added with a little nod.

Several seconds went by before an exasperated Peggy demanded, "What. Did. She. Look. Like?"

I turned to her, and as solemnly and seriously as I could, I said, "I have looked upon the face of a Vorlon. And nothing is the same anymore."⁷

She stared at me for a moment, then scowled. "Oh, you!"

Then she hit me with her pillow.

A few minutes and an exchange of fluffy blows later, we were both back in bed and under the covers. (Yes, we're both in our mid-fifties. Why do you ask?) As I reached for the switch on my bedside lamp, she asked, "So, really... what does she look like, under that helmet?"

I stopped and shrugged. "To be honest? She's kind of plain. She looks a lot younger than she probably should, but other than that? Average. You wouldn't give her a second glance if you passed her on the street. And she's definitely not all scarred like some of the Internet theories suggest." After a moment's thought I added, "The braids are real and not attached to the helmet, by the way. Another Internet theory goes down in flames."

"Huh," Peg replied as she burrowed deeper into the covers, which were light to match the season.

"Still," I added as I reached again for the lamp, "It's kinda cool to be the only person in the world other than Lime Kawasaki herself who knows what she looks like." I turned out the light.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Breakfast the next morning was pretty straightforward. Stationed at the community center's "almost restaurant grade" range with its griddle overlay in place, I made several dozen pancakes studded with fresh local blueberries along with plates stacked high with maple bacon and Taylor ham⁸ while a small mob of teen-aged girls (and one elderly butler) streamed through the kitchen and carried them out almost as fast as they came off the griddle. The K-On! side of the equation included the girls who hadn't been present the night before, but I had half-expected them and had made more than enough batter to account for everyone and then some.

When everyone else had been served, Peggy and I joined the crowd with our own plates (set aside and kept warm in the oven early on, just in case). The breakfasters had found places anywhere and everywhere there was space to eat -- right down to six enthusiastic diners sitting on the floor around the coffee table in the middle of the sectional -- and the whole atmosphere was friendly and a bit boisterous.

As we took seats at the dining room table, there was a vigorous discussion going on over the difference between American and Japanese pancakes, and between bacon and "bēkon". From the way they were talking, I got the impression that when it isn't okonomiyaki, a Japanese pancake is apparently something more like a pastry, and judging by Ritsu's gestures about four inches tall. (I tried to imagine what I'd need to do to make a four-inch-tall pancake, and failed horribly.) Meanwhile, they described the meat product that they called "bēkon" as soft and floppy even when fully cooked -- the idea of crispy bacon was foreign to most of the girls although Hijiri and Sumire both seemed familiar with it.

Regardless, the pancakes and the maple bacon were big hits, but the Taylor ham was somewhat less so. We had to explain what it was, and it was more sampled than eaten, mostly with a certain dubious caution, to a generalized "yeah, I guess it's okay" reaction. I was surprised that everyone not only knew what maple syrup was, but that they all seemed to love it, judging by the amounts poured on their meals. (I later went online and found out that Japan is the third largest consumer of maple syrup in the world, right behind the US and Canada. Go figure.)

About halfway through breakfast, Fuu, Hikaru and Umi showed up. "We were just going to walk around the neighborhood and get to know the area while the men spar down by the playground," Umi informed us, "but we saw the motorcycles and girls we didn't know in the complex and..."

"Are you new neighbors?" Hikaru interrupted her. "Where are you... oooooh, pancakes! Can we have some?"

Fuu politely snickered behind a raised hand before saying, "We have already had our breakfast, Hikaru-chan."

The little redhead turned puppy dog eyes on her. "But Fuuuuuuuuu... pancakes! With maple syrup!" Everyone laughed as Umi rolled her eyes.

"We have more than enough left that you can have some," I said after glancing back into the kitchen. "But first, introductions! Biker chicks, magic knights! Magic knights, biker chicks!"

"Bob!" Peggy said and kicked me in the ankle as the group broke into laughter again.

"Ow," I cleverly retorted, then mock-sulked as Peggy made both explanations and more proper introductions. A few minutes later the Knights had sandwich plates holding a pancake or two each and had found themselves places to eat them next to chatty friends both new and newer. Fuu and Umi ate delicately with knife and fork, and Hikaru with bare, sticky blue-stained fingers and mouth. A bucket brigade of paper napkins were already making their way across the room to her.

"Rhsh ish sho grrd," she enthused around a mouthful of pancake.

"To translate that into the speech of civilized people," Umi said, brushing her long blue hair back with a sniff, "'This is so good.' And it is," she added with a beaming smile that completely belied her snooty behavior. "Can we convince you to invite us the next time you make breakfast?"

I chuckled. "Don't know when that'll be, but I'll make a point of letting you know."

Hikaru finally swallowed. "Thank you!"

More laughter. "You're welcome, Hikaru," Peg said.

Half an hour later and we were not only done with breakfast, but we were done cleaning up. Having over a dozen eager sets of hands was actually more a hindrance than a help, even given the size of the kitchen, but with a few chosen helpers, we got everything either hand-washed and put back where it came from, or into the dishwasher, which was now running. The platoon of teenagers -- motorcyclists, musicians and magical girls -- had moved outside into the parking lot onto which the back door of the community center opened, for the formal saying of goodbyes. We joined them only a minute or so later, and the farewells were already in progress.

Hane, her pink helmet hanging from one hand, was getting dual-hugged by Ui and Yui and looked potentially teary again as she reciprocated -- although it seemed to me like they might be happy tears this time. The sisters touched foreheads with her, and said something that I couldn't hear from where Peg and I stood next to Hayakawa. Whatever it was got a nod and a shaky smile. Nodoka stood nearby, smiling approvingly at whatever was going on between the three.

Peg poked me then nodded toward where Chisame and Azusa were also hugging with an intensity that seemed out of character for the normally stoic Chisame. "Call me like you promised," I heard Azusa say when they separated, only for Jun to sweep in to grab a hug of her own, much briefer and less intense, before Chisame could reply. I looked up from them and spotted Lime standing alone on the far side of the milling crowd. My eyes met her visor, and she nodded once, slowly, to me. I nodded back. God, I hoped she did the right thing.

Eventually all the permutations of farewells worked themselves out (Peg and I got our own collection of hugs, I should note, along with a bow from Hayakawa, which we returned), and the seven of them pulled their helmets on and mounted up, Hijiri leaping acrobatically into her sidecar with her long purple-black hair streaming behind her. Hane checked the mysterious itinerary one more time before tucking it into her jacket, waved her right hand in a circle over her head, called out, "Let's go!", and kicked her motorcycle to life. A moment later, the others had all started their cycles as well, and with a final chorus of shouted good-byes, pulled out onto Annette, then turned left onto Hamilton en masse during a break in the traffic.

They were out of sight within a couple minutes, by which time our tenants had started wandering off -- the Knights to their walk around the neighborhood, everyone else back to whatever other Sunday plans they had. Peggy leaned into me and I put my arm around her, puffing out a big "whoosh" of air. "How's that for a weekend?" I asked.

"Too busy," Peg replied. "I hope it's not like this every weekend."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll calm down eventually," I said. "Once we fill the complex." I shrugged. "It's only, what, a couple hundred apartments. Shouldn't take long."

She elbowed me gently. "Yeah, right." Then she cocked her head. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" I closed my eyes and tilted my head, trying to figure out what she heard. It was... motorcycles. Getting louder. "Whoa. I think they're coming back."

She started walking to where the parking lot opened onto Annette Court. "You don't think something's happened, do you?"

"I hope not. Maybe they just forgot something," I offered as I caught up with her. We hadn't quite made it to the street when four riders on two cycles (one with a sidecar) appeared from the direction the Club had gone, turned right onto Annette, and pulled to a stop in front of us. Three of the riders were clearly women; the fourth was a guy a bit on the short side. He pulled off his helmet, revealing a good-looking Japanese fellow who looked to be in his early twenties.

"Hi," he shouted over the idling cycle engines. "My name's Keiichi Morisato. My friends and I were told you could help us?"

Oh yeah. Here we go again. Again.

RMS: "Yesterday in old Fall River, Mister Andrew Borden died/And he got his daughter Lizzie on a charge of homicide..."
RMS: The Six Flags Great Adventure amusement park is almost exactly due south of Douglass Gardens Apartments, and is about 32 miles away by the shortest route.
RMS: Because when Japanese-American powerboat racer, wrestler and restaurateur Hiroaki "Rocky" Aoki founded the Benihana restaurant chain around teppanyaki-style cooking, that's the term he used to refer to the teppan -- the solid-steel cook surface -- on which the food is prepared. In Japan, hibachi refers to a kind of small charcoal-burning space heater.
RMS: This is canon, and is mentioned at the end of the Bakuon!! manga.
RK: Corporate branding can be a pain in the butt.
RMS: <rimshot>
RMS: For what transpired between the girls when Bob and Peggy weren't around, see the forthcoming story Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Touring.
RMS: Dr. Benjamin Kyle in The Gathering, the original pilot film for Babylon 5 broadcast in February 1993.
RMS: "Taylor ham" -- more properly called just "pork roll" -- is a variety of smoked, spiced pork made by the Taylor Provisions Company of Trenton, NJ, which created the recipe circa 1856. It's kind of like a cross between a sausage and a deli meat in texture. For more than a century it was a delicacy specific to New Jersey but since the 1990s it's been turning up in grocery stores and restaurants all over the United States.

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