Another tidbit for you all to read. Most of the action of this short story takes place at the beginning of SailorStars episode 179 ("An Enemy? An Ally? The Starlights and the Sailorsenshi"). I've never seen this one done before. An original idea? Wow. But as they say, there's nothing new under the sun. Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon in any way, shape, or form. The only character I own is the one I created in this story: Yoshida Ishiguro. Enjoy reading it, and please tell me what you thought at gramarye@rochester.rr.com. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The Written Word By: Gramarye ---------------------------------------------------------------------- "I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter..." --Popular song Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail... --(Unofficial?) motto of the United States Postal Service My love shall in my verse ever live young. --William Shakespeare ---------------------------------------------------------------------- With a gusty sigh, Yoshida Ishiguro set down the empty mailbag he was carrying. Working for the United States Postal Service paid him well enough, but it wasn't enough to compensate for the strain on his shoulders and bad back. At least his supervisor had allowed him to drive a delivery truck instead of trudging the grimy streets in all weathers. Ah, well, it was better than nothing. He looked up at the chipped white plastic clock on the cement wall, and swore under his breath. If he didn't hurry up, he'd be late. And the Dead-Letter Office was at least a mile away. He threw on his warm brown corduroy coat and dashed out the door, stopping only long enough to clock out for the day. * * * Sure enough, the envelope was there. The same careful English printing in a feminine hand, the same smudge marks where incorrect letters had been erased, the same address, the same impersonal "Addressee Not Known" stamp. Most importantly, the same little drawing on the envelope's flap: a smiling rabbit. With steady hands, he slit the letter open. The first few times he had done so, his hands had shook and sweat marks had stained the thin white paper. Now, he was too involved to care whether anyone saw him reading the letter. He sat down on a dusty crate in the cold room, and unfolded the letter. It was fortunate that his grandfather had taught him how to read Japanese at an early age. Even though his parents had frowned on the lessons, he eagerly awaited the times when the elderly man would beckon to him and say, "Come here, grandson. I have a new story for you to read today." The lessons had borne fruit, and in a time when many Japanese-Americans could not read their native language, Ishiguro was quite fluent. He smiled to himself as he began to read the letter. No kanji, just katakana and hirigana. This was the same person, no doubt about it. Dearest Mamo-chan (he read), I'm writing this letter to you in the library, even though I should be doing my English assignment. I know you want me to keep up with my schoolwork and pay attention in class, but Matsou-sensei is *so* boring. His voice puts even Mako-chan to sleep—you can imagine what happens to me. So, how are you? How are classes going? I'm sure that everyone is impressed by how smart you are. Do they give hard tests at your school? I got an 80% on my last math quiz (Masao-sensei nearly fainted)! Ami-chan is helping me with my work as usual, and I managed to get five whole problems right on the homework! Of course, there were forty-five problems on that assignment, but that's the most I've answered right in a long time! Everyone is fine, and they all say hello and ask how you are. Ami-chan is working on a big physics project that I don't understand at all, but she says it's very important and interesting. I looked at one of her papers once, and everything was squiggles and weird numbers. Oh, well, if she likes it, I suppose that's a good thing. Rei-chan has been spending more time taking care of the jinja since her grandfather became sick a week or two ago. Oh, that reminds me, I have to return a manga I borrowed from her before she knows it's missing. She'll kill me if she knew I had it; I don't think she's read it yet. Today, Mako-chan and I are going to pick strawberries for a strawberry cake...I can almost taste it now. Minako-chan is still practicing her acting skills to be an idol. She wanted me to ask you if there were any nice boys at your school, and gave me a picture to send to you. I would have enclosed it, but Artemis had a fit and ripped it to shreds. I don't know why...Minako-chan was wearing a very pretty red bathing suit and a pair of heels that she borrowed from Rei-chan. It wasn't *that* revealing. Oh, well. You remember that I wrote you awhile ago about the three new students at school? Well, Seiya-san keeps calling me "Odango" even though I yell at him to stop. I thought I had heard the last of that...even Rei-chan doesn't call me that anymore. But I don't want Seiya-san calling me by that name. *You're* the only one who can call me "odango atama", Mamo-chan. Haruka-san, Michiru-san, and Setsuna-san are doing well, too. I can tell that Hotaru-chan misses Chibiusa-chan, but she never says so. Speaking of missing people, I miss you, Mamo-chan. It's so lonely here without you and Chibiusa near me. The others know that I'm sad, but they can't really understand how I feel. It's like...like...like someone decided to cut out a piece of my body, cut off a hand or a foot or something. You're so much a part of me, I feel incomplete without you. But every time I look at the beautiful ring you gave me, I have to smile. Then I count the days until you can come home and see me. When are you coming home, anyway? Gomen, gomen, I know I'm pestering you, but I really want to see you again. Since you told me never to write about, well, *you* know, I can't tell you much in this letter. But there's a big problem at home. Whenever I'm in trouble, I half-expect to see a rose land at my feet, and your warm voice telling me that everything will be okay. I'm frightened, Mamo-chan. I really don't know who's a friend and who's an enemy anymore. I wish you were here to give me a hug and tell me not to be silly, that everything will be fine. I kiss your picture at night; did you know that, Mamo-chan? It gives me a warm and safe feeling inside. And then I play the locket three times——once for you, once for me, and once for Chibiusa. I've grown so used to it that I can't go to sleep without my little "ritual", as Luna calls it. But when I do sleep, my dreams are only of you. Oh! I have to go, Michiru-san and Haruka-san are here. I can't let them see this. Please write back soon, Mamo-chan. I miss you very much, and I wish I could be with you. Your Usako * * * Ishiguro carefully folded the letter, and put it back in the envelope. The letter went into a small niche in the wall behind a pile of rotting cardboard boxes, where it rested with several other letters. Every postal worker plays a guessing game when he picks up a personal letter. What is this? An urgent plea for help? A chatty note to a friend? A steamy message filled with sexual innuendo? A demand for money? A happy announcement? What is in this envelope? Ishiguro knew that he would almost certainly be fired if he was caught reading the letter. Postal fraud isn't taken lightly. But he was hooked. And every other day, a new letter would arrive to titillate his fancy. He stood up and stretched his legs, and strolled out into the sunshine of the parking lot. Before he went home, he would have to stop at the music store and see if the imported CDs he had special- ordered were in yet. His young niece was completely crazy about the Three Lights, one of those new Japanese pop groups that drove young girls wild, and her birthday was coming soon. He didn't understand what the fuss was all about. He thought that those boys looked a little too much like girls themselves. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Gramarye gramarye@rochester.rr.com December 6, 1999