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Unnumbered Episode #203: Christmas in Crystal Tokyo
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	It was snowing.

	Really snowing.  Not the small tiny flakes that result in a loose
sort of powder, but really big, wet flakes that would have made commuting a
pain if there hadn't been heated walkways and roads, and a bigger pain if it
hadn't been the 24th of December, 3031.

	It was Christmas Eve, and Sailor America was loving it.  You could
tell it easily.  The entire Palace was filled with reminders of the season,
but the biggest was America's office.  It was festooned with garlands,
blinking lights, bulb ornaments, and the coup de grace: a genuine, 100% real
Douglas fir. She' brought it in from the tree farm in Pennsylvania, the same
farm that her family had gotten trees from since . . . well, as long as she
could remember.

	She wished she could be with them.  She really did.  In fact, she
had nearly gotten into a shouting match with her immediate superior, Sailor
Oberon, who had nearly had to go to *her* superior, Sailor Neptune,
regarding the matter.  The final verdict: she couldn't leave the country.

	But America certainly wasn't going to let a little thing like not
being home ruin her Christmas.  It was pretty much the only holiday that was
*really* celebrated in Crystal Tokyo, even if the true reason for it had
been forgotten after three thousand years.

	Sailor America got out of her chair, taking a break from the piles
of reports.  She was working on giving press clearances to the media who
were going to attend the special concert that night.  Neo-Queen Serenity
would be there, along with nearly one hundred other senshi, something that
certainly didn't happen every Christmas.  With all those senshi, including a
majority of the planet senshi, she had to be doubly certain that none of the
people she admitted would be a risk.  Therefore, she was working through her
lunch break on Christmas Eve when she'd much rather be taking a nice walk
through the snow.

	"Sailor America?"

	She turned from her reverie, looking out at the snow that blanketed
the city, and looked at her secretary.

	"Here are the extra forms you asked for."

	"Ah, thank you.  Just put 'em on the desk, okay?"

	"Okay."

	The secretary performed her task and withdrew, and America looked
back out the window.  "Y'know," she said to no-one, "I bet I could make a
heck of a snowman out there."

***

	A few dozen floors below her and a few kilometers to the north,
Princess Usagi Tsukino, next in line to the throne, was enjoying something
she didn't do half as often as she'd like.  She was driving down one of
Crystal Tokyo's busiest thoroughfares in a horse-drawn carriage.

	She was told that back around the twenty-seventh century her mother
had reawakened interest in the thoroughly antiquated method of travel, so
much so that a group of horses had been purchased for the use of the royal
family.  They were kept at a special pasture just outside the city, and she
was riding from it to the Palace.  This particular carriage would carry
herself, Serenity, and Endymion from the Palace to the Concert Hall later
that day, but she had managed to talk her father into letting her ride with
the coachmen as they took the carriages into the city.

	Her progress hardly went unnoticed; as word spread, the streets
began to become lined with onlookers, hoping to catch a glimpse of the
Princess.  As they went on the crowds grew, and soon Usagi found that she
just *had* to wave to them, which of course made the crowds even happier. To
Usagi, they just looked so picturesque, standing on the sidewalks, waving in
the still-heavily falling snow, under the lampposts and windows that had
been decorated with lights and garlands and ribbons.

	"They love me," she whispered, as she smiled and waved to one little
child in particular, a child outrageously bundled up in a thick coat against
the cold and snow.  Only her eyes and nose peeked out from under the hood,
and Usagi had to hold back a laugh.

	"You're the Princess," said Sailor Saturn in reply, grinning.  She
was Usagi's bodyguard for the day, though they both knew that if worst came
to worst Usagi could take care of herself.  "And they don't get to see you
that often."

	"Definitely."  Unlike her mother, Usagi loved the attention the
people of Crystal Tokyo gave to the royals.  She didn't get out much though;
at times Serenity could be bewilderingly overprotective.  Usagi scratched
her head a couple times and then sighed.  "Saturn-chan?" she asked, using a
diminutive she only used when they were alone.

	"Yes?"

	"The Glaive . . . um . . . ."

	"Oh, gomen," said Saturn, giggling like she was baby Hotaru again,
and not . . . who she was now.  The Silence Glaive had been too tall to sit
upright without going to a bit of trouble, so she had laid it on both their
laps. But the Glaive didn't absorb heat too well, and so it was still cold
on Usagi's dress.  Saturn grabbed the Glaive, and put it over her shoulder,
the blade facing behind her.  With a bit of magic, it now looked to be only
half its original size.

	"So," said Saturn, "what do you think your parents are going to get
you for Christmas?"

	"I'm over nine hundred, silly.  I don't get Christmas presents," she
joked.  She would still get gifts, and so would pretty much everyone else in
Japan.  Her age, however, was a running joke between the two.

	"I do, and I believe I'm older than you are."

	"By just a measly century!" said Usagi, dissolving into giggles.

	"And don't you forget it!" said Saturn, similarly amused.  Saturn
sighed, realizing that she didn't laugh like this enough.  It had been too
long since she'd spent some time with Usagi.  Lately she'd been stuck with
Sailor Aldebaran, of all people!  As if she knew anything about
shipbuilding!  But Aldebaran insisted it was important.

	It was nice to be around Usagi.  Especially on a day like today.
Christmas Eve, and all it implied.

	The carriage made the left turn onto Serendipity Boulevard, and
the Palace loomed before them, its normal glimmer covered by a thin layer
of snow, a blanket whiter than the purest silk.

***

	Sailor Orion sat at her desk, half listening to the sounds of
conversations outside her office.  The floor she was on, ship design, was
having its Christmas party.  Then again, it seemed that *everyone* who
worked in the Palace was having a party; she'd even run down to the military
suites in the basement and found merrymakers there.

	Orion had also found Vanessa Leeds and Kim Young, and that had been
the point of the exercise: to wish them a merry Christmas.  She shook her
head, smiling at the memory.  Kim and Vanessa simply *belonged* in a
situation like Earth Headquarters, where the situation could be described as
hectic even on the most peaceful days.

	But she hadn't time for parties.  She intended to get all her work
done through to mid-January, and for that she'd probably be working right up
to 18:00 when the concert started.  She planned to watch it on television
with Eileen, unless of course Eileen had other plans.

	She reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope.  Inside was
her Christmas present for Eileen, a present she had gone to almost insane
lengths to keep secret.  'But it was worth it,' she thought.  'I know it'll be
perfect for her.  And for me.'

	A knock came at the door.  "Sailor Orion?"

	She recognized the voice.  "Sailor Altair?  Come in, please."

	Altair walked in.  She was one of the most powerful senshi in
Serenity's service, but not because of her fighting ability.  Rather, she
was assistant secretary of the Palace's research and development department,
which included shipbuilding, exploration, and practically anything having to
do with the sciences.

	It didn't include history, though.  Orion knew that she was out of
her element, but with all the work that had to be done on Seiza she didn't
have much time to go over to the Historian's office and chat with Sailor
Vulpes about wars, treaties, and so on.  In her free time she still managed
to do some work on her own.  She expected to get her doctorate from the
University of Crystal Tokyo in about a year or so, and then there was the
book she was working on, in which she planned to render her opinions on a
few rather neglected parts of-

	"Sailor Orion?  Are you listening?"

	"Y-yes!" said Orion, embarassed.  Altair reported directly to Sailor
Mercury, and it wouldn't do to give her a bad impression.

	"Orion, as you know, Her Majesty would like a number of senshi from
R&D to attend tonight's concert."

	"Yes, Altair," replied the redhead.  It was considered a great honor
to attend the Christmas concert, an honor Serenity had split among all of
her closest servants: the senshi.  Representatives from all the departments
were expected to attend, as well as the well-to-do of the city, the
not-so-well, and others.  It was truly a cross-section of society.

	"Well, it would seem that you've attracted some attention higher up. 
Her Majesty would request the favor of your presence at the concert tonight
at 18:00."

	"What?"  She knew that she'd had more dealings with the planet
senshi than most, but enough to go to the concert, ahead of all the other
senshi?  There were only four junior to her.

	"It's as much a surprise to me as it is to you," said Altair dryly. 
Orion didn't take it personally; Altair had a reputation for not showing her
emotions easily, and sometimes it came off as dislike when it was really an
unwillingness to smile too often.  The blonde senshi rubbed her nose. 
"Anyway, it would be nice if you could show up around 17:00 or so." She
handed Orion a handlink.  "Here's your clearance.  Don't worry about where
you're to sit; that's the ushers' problem."

	Orion looked up at Altair.

	"Yes, I suppose you'll want to bring Sailor America along as well."
Altair chanced a rare smile.  "The Powers that Be foresaw that; she can go
too."

	Orion stood, raced over to Altair, and gave her a hug, punctuating
it with a peck on the cheek.  "You're great," she said into her ear.

	Altair's face turned a red that very nearly matched the shade of
Orion's hair.  "Yes, I'm sure," replied the blonde, disentangling herself.
"Sailor fuku, as usual.  Er . . . you probably want to leave a bit early.
Bye!"

	Orion waited until Sailor Altair left before dissolving into
laughter.  Hugs weren't as common as they had been as a way of greeting a
senshi, but they were still acceptable.  Some people were a bit touchier
about tactile contact than others, though, and Orion had been wondering
about Altair for quite some time.

	"What the heck," she said aloud, "it's Christmas."  She went to the
window and watched the snow fall for a few moments as dusk approached. Then
she went out and joined the party.

***

	When Sailor America came out of her office to go to the elevator,
she saw her lover leaning against the wall as usual.  Orion *always* got out
of her duties before America did.

	"Hi, Orion."

	"Hi, America."  A short kiss.  "So, anything lined up for tonight?"

	"Er . . . ."

	"Good.  Guess where we're going?"

	America was half-tempted to say Pennsylvania, but didn't.  "Lemme
guess.  Sydney, for a bit of fun in the sun?"

	"Better.  The Christmas concert."

	America's jaw dropped.  "Really?"

	Orion smiled.  "Yep."  She half-dragged America to the elevator and
they got in.  "Special invite.  Don't ask why."

	By now America had recovered.  "You know, it's not going to be fun
walking to the Concert Hall in our fuku."

	"We can always transform when we get there, silly," replied Orion,
punching the button for the appropriate floor.  "Besides . . . how many
nights do you get to listen to some good old fashioned classical music?"

	"Every time you bring out those decrepit Soundgarden recordings?"

	"No, silly," said Orion, watching the floor numbers flicker. They
reached their destination and walked out.  "Anyway, I think we can take a
car."

	"My car?"  America's little automobile was about as small as they
got where two-seat models were concerned.

	"Sure."

	America sighed.  Sailor Orion had been rather moody lately, and she
suspect that it had something to do with her family.  But every time she
asked, Orion insisted that everything was fine.  In any case, it was good to
see her being cheerful today, and would even be worth being cramped in her
tiny automobile.

	They entered their apartment, and Orion went into the bathroom to
shower.  America considered joining her but decided against it; all the
books said that showering together as a couple would draw the two closer
together, but those books never seemed to take into account the sheer
logistics of the the proposition.  A shower for two got no-one clean, and
there certainly wasn't enough room for anything romantic.  It was more
likely a recipe for a broken limb.

	Absently, she detransformed as she grabbed a couple of granola
bars from the cabinet.  "Jen?" she asked loudly.

	"Yeah?" she asked in English.

	"Remember what you said this morning, about having a surprise for
me when we got home?"

	In the shower, Jen paused from lathering herself and looked
questioningly at the shower head.  Then she remembered.

	"Oh yeah, that.  Well, I was going to give you a present early, but
. . . ." A mischievous thought crossed her mind.  She rinsed off the soap
and reached for the shampoo.  "I guess I could give it to you after the
concert."

	If there was one thing Eileen didn't like, it was secrets.  "You
can't tell me what it is?"

	"Nope."

	"Oh come on, please?"

	"Ah, Eileen, I should think you'd have learned the value of patience
by now.  Remember Sailor V?"

	In the kitchen, Eileen blushed.  She was hoping Jen had forgotten
that rather embarassing episode back at the School.  "That was different,"
she said defensively.

	"Good, then you understand."  Jen finished rinsing the last bits of
shampoo from her red tresses and switched off the shower, reaching without
thought for a towel.  "Right after the finale."

	"Jeeeeen!" said Eileen in a whine, but she was grinning broadly. She
walked to the bathroom and opened the door.  Jen was slowly drying herself
from the feet up.  Not for the first time, the American-turned-senshi
wondered what she had done to deserve someone like Jen.  "C'mon, just once?"

	"Nope," said Jen.  "Could you hand me that robe, please?"

	Eileen picked up the robin's-egg-blue bathrobe from its resting
place on a hanger and handed it to Jen, who was finished with her chest and
back and was now vigorously drying her hair.  She had a distinct dislike
for automatic hair dryers, and to hell with all the advancements in hair
care over the past thousand years.

	"Not even a hint?"

	"It's small enough for me to take to the concert, and that's all I'm
telling you.  Now get in the shower before we're late, okay?" She punctuated
this with a playful nudge on the shoulder and a brief kiss on the lips. 
With that, Jen stepped out of the way and left Eileen to shower. 

	Jen proceeded to the bedroom and absently hummed a tune to herself,
walking into the closet.  True, she'd be in senshi form for the occasion,
but she wouldn't feel right if she just pulled on some jeans and a
sweatshirt.  No, a certain amount of decorum went along with being a senshi,
and though no-one had told her to do so, she would wear her dress uniform
before transforming.

	Unfortunately, naval dress uniforms had an evil reputation, and by
the time she'd managed to put the entire thing on, Eileen had emerged from
the shower.  Eileen just smirked.  "You're wearing the penguin suit?"

	It was true that naval dress uniforms, with their white tops, white
skirts cut just above the knee, and white . . . well, everything, made the
wearer look a bit like a penguin, or a polar bear, if you were particularly
overweight.  Jen didn't mind too much, though, considering everything she'd
gone through to be able to wear it.

	Eileen *did* mind.  She pointedly pulled out her undress whites and
stared pulling them on.  "Time?"

	"Seventeen fifty-seven and eighteen seconds," replied the AI.  Jen
was liking it less and less as time went on; it didn't have the sense of
humor Antares had lead her to expect from an AI.

	Antares.  She hadn't thought about him in ages.  She had a bit of
seniority now; maybe she could cajole them into putting him on Seiza?

	In far less time than it had taken for Jen to dress, Eileen was
ready.  "Shall we go?"

	"Sure," said Jen.  She reached into pocketspace and patted the
envelope that rested there.

***

	Ever since Matthew Perry arrived in Tokyo Bay in the nineteenth
century, the Japanese were accused of being copycats.  Americans of the
twentieth century claimed that the Japanese were imitators, simply taking
American production techniques and using them as their own with enormous
benefits.  Those who were wise, however, knew that this was not the case;
that Japan's strength lay in its peculiar ability to adapt Western customs
and make them uniquely Japanese.

	On 24 December 3031, the most obvious of these was the concert to be
held at the Crystal Tokyo Concert Hall.  The featured performance:
Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125, "Choral." A wholly Western
symphony, it had been snapped up by Japan.  For nearly a thousand years it
had been a tradition for the ninth to be played at Christmas time,
regardless of the fact that a decided minority of Japanese citizens even
celebrated the holiday in a religious sense.  In December, it was nearly
impossible to go shopping or listen to the radio without hearing the fourth
movement; large choirs trained for months to perform it before even larger
audiences.

	The largest and most spectacular of these performances was by far
the one at the Hall.  It would literally be a symphony of a thousand;
hundreds of the best singers in Crystal Tokyo would perform, and in an
unprecedented move a foreigner would sing one of the solos.

	Jaclyn Hazeltine, a thirty-four year old opera singer from
Buckinghamshire, England, had been invited, some said by Serenity herself,
to sing the soprano solo.  Never before had a foreigner been allowed to have
one of the four coveted soloist parts, and all Crystal Tokyo was abuzz about
it for months before, through the grueling rehearsals to the very day
before.

	This was at the forefront of Sailor Orion's mind as she entered the
vast concert hall, its richly decorated walls resounding with hundreds of
conversations.  She suspected that it was an olive branch of some sort; the
only question was why?  Why would the Palace have to make such a
conciliatory gesture to one of the confederations, so long after the
Formation Wars?

	Orion shook herself.  It was Christmas, a time to put away political
speculations and instead focus on home and family.  Especially her own
family; at her mother's request, she was staying away this year. Her mother
wanted to have a second child, and she had decided to tell her father about
it tonight of all nights.

	As Sailor America casually wrapped a gloved arm around her shoulder,
Sailor Orion looked around.  Her row and the rows surrounding were full of
senshi.  She couldn't help feeling a bit of pride; the variously colored
bows and skirts added a rather festive atmosphere which was helped along by
the orchestra.  Conducted by Toshio Gusekara, the orchestra softly tuned up. 
Looking at the first chair, Orion saw that Sailor Neptune wouldn't be
playing tonight.  Only fair; Neptune had played the violin for a *very* long
time, and she imagined the senshi of the sea could use a break every few
Christmases.

	Orion was about to look around at the Royal Box when the orchestra
blared a mighty note.  The house lights dimmed, and the music began.

	The first three movements went by rather quickly.  The conductor
knew what the audience had come for, and so he took a quick and fairly
orthodox interpretation, preferring to save his energies for the finale.

	And what a finale.

***

	The final note ended, and for seven spine-tingling seconds, no-one
in the entire hall moved.  Then a single person started clapping, and
another, until the entire auditorium was shaking with applause and cheers. 
In the royal box, Serenity was all smiles.  Taken away by the moment, she
stood, with Endymion and Usagi at her side.

	Of course, when the reigning monarch stood, the rest of the audience
was obligated to stand as well, and so the orchestra, conductor, soloists,
and chorus, all of whom had probably given the performance of their lives,
received as rousing a respose as could be dreamed of. Musakara bowed again
and again to the people, shaking hands with the soloists and the first
violin, receiving the roses, and basking in praise.

	Finally, the applause died down, Serenity left the box to do
whatever, and people began to filter out.  Orion ran into Sailor Vulpes on
her way out, chatting a bit on musical history and what Beethoven would
think of the way Crystal Tokyo remembered him. Finally, though, Orion and
America found themselves more or less alone in a reception room that had
been set aside for the senshi.  Few of them had wanted to stick around, and
so the room was essentially empty.  A couple of porters went back and
forth, but that was about it.

	"Okay, America, it's time for your surprise," said Sailor Orion. She
tugged at her back bow a bit nervously, a habit she had picked up from a
friend.  She smiled uneasily, and America answered it.  Then, Orion reached
into pocketspace and pulled out a small white envelope.  "I hope you like
it," she said, handing it to the brunette.

	"I'm sure I will, as long as it's not another bath towel," said
America half jokingly.  She opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of
paper.  She then looked up at her lover.  "Oh no, Jen, you shouldn't have-"

	"No, I should have done it a long time ago."

	"But this . . . two weeks . . . two weeks . . . ."  Her mind had
difficulty emcompassing the concept.  "Two weeks of skiing on Hokkaido?  But
the waiting lists to get a reservation for a *day* are-"

	"On the order of one or two years.  Let's just say I called in a
couple of favors." Sailor America wondered what kind of favors could demand
such a luxury.

	The mountains of the island of Hokkaido were known for their ski
slopes, which were among the finest in the world.  They were still
outclassed by the gems in the European Alps, for certain, and met stiff
competition from a few slopes in the Rocky Mountains of North America, but
they were about as good as they got if you hailed from Japan.  To preserve
them, strict regulations were placed on how many people could ski and for
how long.  Average waiting list time for a single three-hour session was
around a year.  To get a weekend was longer: three or four years.  Two weeks
. . . well, if you wanted to ski for two weeks at the age of twenty-five, it
was probably wise to place an application at birth.

	To call their two week vacation on Hokkaido a coup was to call
World War II a skirmish.

	"Jen," said America, once again slipping and using her given name,
"I can't . . . I don't-"

	"It's for both of us, Eileen," said Sailor Orion, clapping her hands
on her lover's shoulders.  "We can use the break, that's for certain.  No
psychopathic senshi, no ghosts from the past, no terrorists, just you, me,
and the snow."

	"But . . . it's been years since I went skiing-"

	"You'll remember."

	"And it'll be crowded-"

	"We've got a lodge away from everyone."

	"And if there's an emergency-"

	"And what if there is?  Surely we've earned a vacation, after all
we've been through?"

	Sailor America laughed; sometimes it was so hard to figure out when
Orion was joking and when she was being serious.  She decided that this
time she was being a bit of both.  They *did* need to get away from Crystal
Tokyo.  This really was the best way: staying on Earth, in the proper time. 
They were just playing the roles, Sailor Orion, as always, being the
adventurous one.

	"When do we leave?"

	"The day after Christmas."  Orion looked at her watch. "It's 22:30. 
I guess we'll just have to buy our equipment there, won't we?"

	"Yeah," said America absently, still a bit in shock.

	Orion detransformed.  "You know," she said, "we don't need to be in
senshi form anymore.  I'm sure Her Majesty has left." Jen detransformed, put
her hands in the pockets of her uniform, and happened to catch a glance of
herself in a mirror.  "You're right.  I do look like a penguin."

	America looked at Jen for a bit.  After a seeming eternity, the
redhead cracked a smile.

	"Oh, you!" said America, but she was smiling as she detransformed as
well.  She still couldn't believe it.  Two weeks of skiing!  For a bit she
felt like she was eighteen again . . . until she remembered that she was
just twenty.  But a hell of a lot had happened in those two years, to be
certain.  "Come on.  Let's go home."

***

	Jen woke up slowly.  She and Eileen had stayed up late into the
night, just talking, and she would have liked a bit more sleep.  But her
internal clock would not be thwarted so easily, and so she was awake at six,
only a bit later than usual.  As per routine, she padded over to the window. 
To her surprise it was still snowing, if anything heavier than ever.  It
was definitely a day when driving was best left to autopilots.

	She considered waking Eileen but decided against it.  Instead, she
went out to the kitchen and set to work boiling some water.  While waiting
for it, she grabbed a datapad and set to work reading the news reports. 
While doing all this, she punched a button on the computer terminal that
resided on the kitchen table.

	A couple seconds later, a shiny face appeared on the screen.
"Jennifer?"

	"Good morning, Mother.  Merry Christmas!"

	"Merry Christmas to you, Jen!  How are you?"  Jen's mother looked
off screen.  "Isao, it's Jen!" Soon both of her parents filled the screen.

	"It's good to see you," said her father.

	"Same here.  Er, Eileen and I will be out of town for the next
couple weeks.  We're going to Hokkaido for skiing!"

	"Really?" asked her mother, impressed.

	"Yep!  Oh, have you told Father?"

	"Told me what?" asked the baritone.

	"I see," said the redhead, smiling.  "Well, I'll leave you two
alone, then.  I'll call back tonight, okay?"

	"Jen?"

	Jen withdrew her hand, which had been about to terminate the
connection.  "Yes?"

	"You know what I said earlier, about giving us some time alone?"

	"Um-hm?"

	"Well . . . I don't think it would really be Christmas without you.
We're having dinner around 17:00, and . . . it'd be great if you could
come."

	Jen smiled; she'd half expected something like this.  She should
have known that her mother wouldn't be able to have a holiday dinner without
her only daughter.  "Why, of course!  I wouldn't think of missing it!"

	"Great," said her mother.  "Eileen is welcome to come as well."

	"Thank you," replied Jen, knowing that with that, her mother was
making quite a leap.  Christmas had evolved over the past three thousand
years, and one of those evolutions was that it was principally a family
holiday. Gifts were given to friends, but only after they were given to
family. And inviting even close acquaintances to dinner was unheard of; only
family and in-laws.  The invitation of Eileen to dinner meant that the
Sakachi family felt the brunette to really be a part of the household.

	"Oh, and we'll be having some relatives from down south with us,
too.  You remember cousin Kei?"

	"Um . . . really short, really fast, and a bottomless stomach?"

	Her mother laughed.  "Er, I guess you could call her that.  Well
she's coming up with her parents from Hiroshima, so you'll have a chance to
meet them."

	"I see."  Her parents were rather silent about their relatives from
Hiroshima; apparently they were from a branch of the family that still held
a grudge against the foreign woman who had come to Japan generations ago,
the woman who was Jen's namesake.  "Well, we'll be over this afternoon then. 
Bye, and Merry Christmas!"

	"Merry Christmas, Jennifer."  The connection closed, and Jen tended
to the boiling water.  She pulled a tea bag out from her pocketspace, and
let it soak in her cup.  She found it so convenient sometimes, and otherwise
she didn't keep it too cluttered.  Eileen chose this point to wake up and
amble into the kitchen.

	"Merry Christmas!"

	"Merry Christmas, Jennifer!"  They hugged, both still in pajamas.
"You'll *never* guess what I got you.  It's not quite as hard to get as a
vacation on Hokkaido, but-"

	"I'm sure I'll like it," said Jen reassuringly.  She looked Eileen
in the eye.  "As long as it's not a bath towel."

	Eileen couldn't keep her serious face for a moment, and dissolved
into laughter.  'This,' she thought, 'is what Christmas is all about: being
able to just let all the guards down, and just be me, not someone trying to
deserve Jen.'  "Here you go," she said, pulling the small, green-wrapped
package from pocketspace.

	"Well it's certainly not a sweater," said the redhead, carefully
tearing away at the wrapping.  Under it all was a plain white box.

	"Go on, open it," said Eileen, still giggling like a schoolgirl.

	Jen pulled off the top of the box and found:

	"A coffee mug?"  Gift giving had advanced to the point where big
expensive gifts like ski trips were fairly rare, but a coffee mug?  "You
know I don't drink coffee." She inspected the side: a little superdeformed
picture of Sailor Orion and Sailor America adorned it.  The two were holding
hands and smiling, and Orion was holding up two fingers in the V for Victory
pose.

	"Well, you can use it for tea, too, but that's not what's important. 
Look inside, on the card."

	Jen read aloud.  "To my favorite redhead, to my future Ph.D. in
History, to the woman who makes my life worth living: to my Jennifer. Love,
Eileen." Jen looked down at the slightly shorter woman, tears welling up in
her eyes.  "Oh Eileen!"

	And then they hugged for a long time.

	Finally, they withdrew.  There weren't any more presents; they
didn't need any more.  Both knew that the best present they could have asked
for was each other, and they would have each other for a very long time.

	Outside, the snow stopped, and Crystal Tokyo celebrated Christmas.