You would think that having three women living in the same house together would eliminate the need for a babysitter. You would also think that in the rare instance that said women did need a babysitter, they’d have chosen one of the five perfectly capable – not to mention willing – friends who had never caused wanton chaos and destruction for the purpose of conquering Earth. Unfortunately for Kürşad Özay, also known as Kunzite of the Middle East, commander of the personal bodyguards for Prince Endymion, Prince of Earth, that did not seem to be the case.
It wasn’t that Hotaru was a particularly difficult or spoiled child. Kürşad just hated babysitting. He new nothing of children or how to entertain them. Even when he seemed to be doing an okay job of making them happy, he took no pleasure from building blocks or assembling 50-piece puzzles.
But here he was at the unconventional family’s suburban home – really a mansion by Japanese standards – at seven in the evening. It took less than a minute for the homeowners to answer the doorbell, but to Kürşad it seemed like an unreasonably long time in his agitated state.
Finally two of the three young women answered. One of them, Michiru smiled and greeted him politely, but the other, Haruka, made no such efforts.
“Thank you for doing this, Kürşad,” said Michiru. “Hotaru is mature for her age, but she’s still only nine years old, so we can’t leave her at home alone.”
“No problem,” Kürşad smiled. “I’m flattered that you trust me enough to look after her.”
“We don’t,” Haruka said coolly. “You just happen to be the only one available, with Setsuna being away at a conference and all.”
“Haruka!”
Kürşad didn’t know what to say to that, so he just chose to ignore the comment and the hard look that came with it and addressed Michiru instead.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,” he said. “Have a nice dinner.”
“Thank you, Kürşad,” Michiru said. “And don’t forget, her bedtime is at 9!”
“I won’t,” Kürşad called after them as they left.
~
It turned out that Hotaru wasn’t interested in any of the childish activities that Kürşad was dreading. The evening started out with Kürşad suggesting aforementioned activities, only to have Hotaru turn them down. She seemed slightly miffed at Kürşad’s misjudgment of her maturity, but luckily Hotaru was not one to hold grudges. She showed him her extensive lamp collection, impressed him with her violin-playing skills, and eventually ended up at a thoughtful conversation that made him forget that she was just a child. Or it would have if Kürşad weren’t so lost in his own thoughts.
Hotaru evidently took note of his distracted state and asked him, “What’s wrong?”
Kürsad looked at her, surprised. He didn’t think he was acting so distant.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m good at telling when something’s bothering someone,” she answered. “Does it have to do with Haruka-papa’s comment about not trusting you?”
“I suppose that could be it.” Truthfully, Kürşad hadn’t really given much notice to the depressed state that had hung over him ever since he came back to Japan, alive and well, with Mamoru. It had become so constant he often didn’t realize he was in bad mood until someone – usually Mamoru or Zorion – pointed it out to him.
“I trust you,” Hotaru said. “The others will come around eventually.”
“You think so?” Kürşad was somewhat relieved to hear that from Hotaru, but not entirely. For one thing, even though she was the most powerful Senshi besides Sailor Moon, she was still a child, and getting the respect of a child just didn’t seem the same as getting it from people who were closer to his age. For another, there was no way to tell if she was sincere or if she said that just to make him feel better.
“They used to think I was an enemy, too,” she said. That genuinely surprised Kürşad.
“Why?”
“Because of my role,” she said. “I bring the silence. I end life when the world has fallen to Chaos so that it can begin anew.”
Chaos that I helped to bring.
“Don’t blame yourself too much,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “It was destiny. And now the world can rise without the obstacles of the past.”
That last sentence relieved Kürşad more than anything than Mamoru or Zori or any of the Shitennou could have said. The same thought – that though his actions were wrong, they brought about a good result – had weighed on his mind for the longest time, but he was afraid to say it to the already mistrustful Senshi. He still had the their hostility, both open and not-so-open, weighing on him. But now that he had a Senshi who thought along the same lines he did, maybe there was hope.
