*** Epilogue ***

Reams of fabric lined the walls, a brilliant display of modern and
traditional dyes blending into a rainbow of color. The long tables were
pristine, scissors and sewing boxes each in their place, chairs neatly set
alongside. Along one wall were two desks set at an angle; designer's
stations, their surfaces spread with paper and pens awaiting use to sketch
the latest dress or outfit suited to those with taste in fashion.

Ai*Shi had become a reality.

Koron stretched her arms above her head, relaxing muscles that had been
tense too long. The idea had originally been hers, born of her own previous
experience in designing and her daughter's innate sense of fashion. "Maron,
you can come in now."

A gasp from behind her brought a broad smile to her lips. She turned, eyes
dancing with amusement. "So, do you like it?"

Maron stood just within the doorway, one hand lifted over her mouth in a
startled reaction. "Mother... I had thought... but how did you get all this
done in such a short time?" she asked, already starting towards one of the
designer's desks, fiddling with the paper and examining the pens in seeming
amazement.

"Maron... it's something that I've wanted to do for a very, very long time.
Even if I forgot about it for a while, I've always wanted to do something
important with you. And this-" Koron gestured about the room, smiling.
"-seemed perfect."

Though a woman grown, Maron had no compunction about hugging her mother
close, her delight seeming to give her wings of air; she felt so light and
happy. "It is perfect."

Koron stayed in her daughter's embrace for an unmeasured amount of time,
drinking in the love she'd missed for so many years, and was only beginning
to regain. "I thought we could call our business Ai*Shi... true love."

Maron nodded, then stepped away, glancing towards the door she'd so
recently come through. The half-amused expression on her face was easily
explained: Chiaki leaned casually upon the frame, his hair falling into his
eyes and a half-smile upon his face. "I thought today would be the day
you'd find out, Maron."

Pure wicked mischief replaced amusement in Maron's expression, and Koron
stepped quickly away under the pretense of fixing something upon her desk.
She kept a close eye upon her daughter, smothering laughter as she advanced
upon the poor, helpless man. Well, not 'helpless', precisely, but one gets
the drift.

"You knew, of course," Maron's tone was light and unforced. "And you didn't
even tell me, hmm? How awful of you."

Chiaki didn't flinch as she took the final step towards him, flowing up
against him, her face turned up. He merely grinned devilishly (Koron rolled
her eyes. Her poor daughter...) and said, "If your skills have dulled so
much that you haven't even seen builders and trucks in your parents' house,
then I shouldn't need to tell you, my dear thief."

"Just for that..." She kissed him, taking her time about the process. When
she stepped back, his hand firmly within both of hers, the evil glint in
her eyes warned Koron to stay where she was. Flushed, triumphant (and
thoroughly kissed, it must be said), Maron beamed sunnily up at Chiaki.
"Just for that, you become our first model. Mother, where do we keep the
pins?"

***

The small bundle was swathed in excesses of soft white cloth that spilled
onto Miyako's lap as she rested tiredly upon the hospital bed. Maron poked
her head around the door, tendrils of hair escaping the loose braid that
was all she'd had time to put in before racing to the hospital.

Nine months of exhaustion, morning sickness, mood swings and cravings for
far too many hotcakes were over, it seemed. The result of all this rest in
Miyako's arms, a shock of purple hair protruding from one corner of the
white material, and blue eyes that would soon enough turn purple were
watching her sleepily.

"Maron, didn't Chiaki come?" Vague disappointment was carefully hidden in
Miyako's tone as her friend entered the room alone. At these words, Maron
wrenched her gaze away from the baby and smiled at her oldest friend.

"He's waiting outside, making sure that everything is ready for you to come
home as soon as you're able to." Her nose crinkled in amusement as she
continued, "He couldn't talk his father into letting you go early, though."
Her laughter indicated that that had been quite a row, indeed. "May... may
I see him?" This last was more tentative, softer... and yet, incredibly
hopeful.

"You only had to ask, Maron." As Maron approached, Miyako shifted the child
from her arms to the other woman's, absently brushing a strand of hair back
into place. "This is Shinji."

Delight lit up Maron's expression, and maternal hope -- wistful though it
was at the moment -- softened her eyes. "He's beautiful, Miyako. And he
looks so much like you. And..." She glanced up as she seated herself next
to Miyako, a faint hope in her eyes. "And... he's familiar."

"Access Time."

Maron looked flustered, her eyes widening and her arms, which had been
gently rocking Shinji, ceasing their calm motion. "But... how could you
have known? Celcia and Toki told me, but you..."

Miyako stifled her chuckles -- the pain of labor had yet to truly vanish
from her body -- and shook her head. "I know all of your secrets, Maron. I
always have. And this one..." She trailed off, glancing at the child held
so tenderly in Maron's arms. "I knew, somehow, that he was connected to
you. And to everything else."

"Thank you so much, Miyako..." Tears filled two pairs of eyes, and the two
friends smiled at eachother over the future of one small family and one
large tale.

***

His glasses were clumsily removed from behind, the silence of his study
shattered by a trill of childish laughter. The book he'd been reading - a
heavy, ponderous tome of medical practice - was quickly set aside, a puff
of dust escaping the thick pages as it thudded closed. It had been one of
his father's, at one point.

"Now," Chiaki drawled, blue eyes sparkling as he turned around, leaving the

comfort of his chair behind, "What little imp has my glasses? Could it
be... a bird?" Another spate of giggles erupted from behind the coatrack.
"Or is it a little fish out of water?"

The giggles grew louder, and Chiaki smiled. His heavy white coat - the one
he wore in the clinic, with all its pockets and gadgets - was moving in
time with the laughter. He took the few steps necessary to reach the rack,
and the giggles died away into a happily breathless silence.

"I know I heard a little fish laughing at me here..." he said, hands
inching towards the coat. This was their little game, his daughter's and
his, and, as with any game, it had its rules and rituals. The sudden gasp
from within the coat softened the glint of mischief in his eyes to simple
love.

The coat was slowly and carefully lifted off of its hook, revealing, inch
by inch, the little thief hidden in its folds, giggling merrily with her
father's glasses in her hands. "Ah, here's that little one..." His voice
was warm and laughter-filled.

Natsuki looked up, face creasing into a pout as she returned the other half

of their joke, a mere rote protest of, "Papa, I'm not little!"

He deposited the coat upon the back of his chair, grinning brightly at the
tiny child. It was odd to see not only pieces of Maron reflected back at
him, but, here and there, glimmers of himself and of the person he'd known
as Fin Fish.

She was watching him, her green eyes curious, yet somehow knowing. Chiaki
sat back down in his chair, holding out his arms in invidtation, and
Natsuki darted out from behind the coat rack, climbing up on his lap. He
linked his hands in front of her as she snuggled up close, her light hair
becoming even more mussed. "Hey there," he said, smiling down at her
suddenly-solemn face. "Where's my smile gone?"

"Papa, why does Mama love the wind so much?"

It seemed as though she was not only asking about Maron, but about herself
as well. There was rarely a windy day that did not see Natsuki dancing at
the whim of the breezes. Chiaki freed a hand to smooth down a wayward
strand of her hair.

"Maron loves the wind..." He paused; how to explain his Maron's life and
connection to the very breath of God in simple words? "... because she
loves the freedom of it, and she knows that, no matter what's wrong in the
world, the wind will always be there to comfort her and guide her."

The answer seemed to satisfy Natsuki, for she settled her head upon his
shoulder, happy to simply be with her father. It was odd, Chiaki mused,
that anyone could ever be as important to him as Maron. And yet, this tiny
child - his and Maron's - had become a physical manifestation of everyone's

happiness. He'd never expected, in truth, to be a father, in spite of
everything.

A small, sleepy burble of sound drew his attention to his daughter once
again. Wisps of her hair were stuck to her cheek, a pale green against the
warm color of her skin, and her eyes were closed in contented peace. She'd
fallen asleep, comfortable in his arms.

He was just debating whether to carefully stand and take Natsuki to her
room when the door opened on silent hinges. Maron stepped in, and, upon
seeing Natsuki curled up in his arms, smiled. She put a finger to her lips,

then gestured for him to bring the sleepy child.

Natsuki barely even noticed the transfer to her mother's arms, nor the move

to her bed; she clung to a pillow as soon as the covers were pulled up to
her chin, sinking into a deeper sleep as Chiaki watched, one arm around
Maron's waist. The left as silently as they cood, leaving the door slightly

ajar.

"I think I've found happiness," Maron said, smiling up at him.

"We both have."

**** Owari ****

I hope you enjoyed the story. In its entirety, it is dedicated to
Meimi-chan, my dear imouto, who corrected me when I was wrong, waved a
cleaver at me when I was at the point of abandoning the idea, and is, in
general a wonderful person.