Things to do in Tokyo when you're Nephrite... (in no particular order *^.^*) Get yourself behind the wheel of a really hot car and drive around like a total hoon, releasing all the pent-up energy of a thousand years' captivity in the Dark Kingdom. This will also do wonders for any feelings of sexual insecurity you may have. The car Nephrite drives, if you're interested, is a Ferrari Testarossa. Testa rossa is Italian for 'red head' - Nephrite likes redheads *^.^* (The fact that the name sounds a bit like Testosterone surely has nothing to do with the car's popularity.) And if any annoying blue-haired girls climb up on the roof of your car wearing sailor suits and start preaching at you about how you're bad and naughty, knock 'em off and drive away fast! 'Brrm. Brrrrrrm! Heh-heh.' Schmooze animators. You never know, if you're really nice to them maybe they'll refuse to draw a scene of you dying. Or of course you could give them an enchanted pencil which will allow you to exploit the energy they put into drawing Sailor V douga for Evil. That's good too. I mean evil. Dang! Get in touch with your inner environmentalist. Nephrite isn't green for nothing. I have always liked to think that he chose to use this gardener, whose beloved park was scheduled for bulldozing and development, because he didn't want the park to be destroyed either, and felt genuine contempt for the humans who waste their natural resources - and let's face it, a little acre of urban wilderness in a city as built-up as Tokyo is a precious thing. Nephrite was born on Earth too. To a person from a thousand years ago, the way we've pillaged the planet must be pretty shocking. Heck, if all else fails, you can turn to drink. Although be warned that your tipple of choice will be euphemised by DiC as 'lemonade.' And you won't be able to enjoy it in peace because Zoisite will show up and hang around sniping at you. Really, you're going to need a drink. Make it a double. Flirt cheesily with schoolgirls in incredibly public places. This is Japan! No-one's gonna turn you in! Actually, they'll assume that she's enduring 'dating' you so you'll buy her a Prada backpack, while you, poor schlub, lack the social skills to find a girlfriend who likes you. Ah, modern Japan! Gotta love it. Get back in your hot car and drive around a bit more, singing along with the radio. 'Some people call me Maurice, (woo-woo!) Cause I speak... of the pompatous of love!' Wonder what a pompatous is, and whether you should have one. Make yourself an improvised cape out of pale pink wedding dress material! You won't look gay at all! Really, I've always wondered why this shy sewing teacher never found it odd that a guy like Nephrite was hanging around in a fabric shop. He doesn't exactly look... in place there. But I guess she was too bamboozled by the old Nephrite mojo to ask herself such probing questions. Display your ability to do what seemingly no-one else in the Sailor Mooniverse can do, and recognise another core cast member out of uniform without the benefit of a lot of heavy hints or a deliberate revelation. Well, semi-recognise. This is the risk Nephrite runs by spending so much time among humans; Zoisite or Jadeite would never get spotted like this. That's what you get for trying to blend in. Forget blending in! Put on a ridiculous penguin suit that will result in catastrophic hat hair in the name of a convoluted plot involving sending a Xeroxed love-letter to every fourteen-year-old girl in Azabu! His tongue must have been a mass of paper cuts that week. Talk about a major envelope-stuffing job. What is it with Naru and guys that pretend to be Tuxedo Kamen? After you're dead, inspire art. One of the crystal carriers pursued by Zoisite is an artist whose work seems to contain echoes of the Silver Millennium - a painting of a queenly woman praying before a full moon, one of a prince giving a princess a locket to remember him by - and I've always thought that this picture looked like her salute to Naru and Nephrite, the red-headed damsel and the beautiful general. Really the last echo of him we see. More Things Home