Pretty Soldiers by Sokudo Ningyou

Act 27 : mugen quatre - Soldiers & School Girls

[I feel the loss of another utilized soul. The perfect bodies were few; souls loyal to the creation of our new star. Magus, you must eliminate the bodies of the sailor soldiers! Bring me their nourishing souls!]

The red-haired Kaolinite, kneeling in proper respect before the statue, grit her teeth. "Master, I beg your forgiveness. But these girls are unqualified for this task, surely. Despite their perfection, they falter in their magic. If I were only allowed to awaken the last of us…!"

She had long ago gotten over the curiousity of speaking to a statue that did, in no way, resemble anything like her new body. It looked more like the oblong seed of a plant, stretched out thinly to thicken again at the base. Ridged, encircled by triangular wings at its thickest point above and below, it was truly a hideous piece of sculpture. But within hid the power of the Taioron Crystal, protected by its own magic, and it was through the link it had with their Master that she could even speak to him across the galaxies. In ridiculous stereo, considering the distance.

[No. Only when the body is properly conditioned for utilization may the last be awakened!]

"But, Master, she is the most powerful of us as well! Who cares if the body is perfect? When you arrive, and this world is ours, we will be able to return to our true forms!" That also reminded her; she had to check on the body and its progress. The medicine was doing its job, but she was impatient, even if this was the second to the Master and her superior they spoke of. Power was what they needed. She had to remember to charge up an amulet with the life force of their crystal and give it to the body.

Or not her, personally; she would give it to Germatoid, who would then give it to the body, seeing as Kaolinite did not have her trust.

[You forget yourself, Magus.] The chamber shook as the Master, in what trickery manageable for the distance, resonated with the Taioron Crystal. She felt a fist squeeze her heart, and she choked, scrabbling at her chest as she stumbled onto her knees. [Do not forget from whence your life flows, and who controls that life. Answer me!]

"H-hai, Master," she wheezed, all but collapsed on the floor. The pressure eased, and she was able to breathe again.

[The body must be properly conditioned. This is the power of Nine we speak of. She is the one who will lead me the final way to the planet that will become our new world. And then, across space, we will take it to the Tau Galaxy to become the center. This is a powerful magic, Magus, do you understand?] She heard the Master do what she had come to think of as a sigh, as if admonishing her for being stupid. [And for such powerful magic, the light that is close to the Taioron Crystal will be ideal. Souls will nourish my form and make me strong, and those of the sailor soldiers are ideal. All of this I demand, and you cannot yet provide!]

How she wanted to stamp her foot at her Master. Everyone seemed to think it was easy to do her job; order around five immature girls – now down to three – aid in the experiments to produce the daimon, provide suitable students in the guise of Kuromine Kaoli. She was overworked and underpaid, in her opinion. "Master, I promise you results. For these insults, the sailor soldiers will pay with their souls. This I swear."

Unsurprised at the sudden loss of connection, she finally vented her frustration and spun, reducing the nearby television set to slag.









In the light of the morning, the results were no longer kind. Haruka grimaced at the mirror, glad to be the only one privy to this particular sight.

Multicolored bruises blossoming across the ribs, shoulders, hips. Red stripes from splinters cutting tender flesh; and, as if to match Michiru's own mark, welts across the forehead from the hard metal of the absent tiara. Naked from the waist up to survey the devastation, there was also another sight to torment the eyes, but these were a problem nothing but mutilation could solve. Or perhaps dreaming them away.

Cupping her breasts, Haruka squeezed them tightly, as if to pinch them into oblivion. Useless bags of flesh she wished she had never been born with, along with the hormonal differences. In the privacy of home, he could shed his clothes, and witness her body, curving and soft instead of angled and hard. A woman's skin and breasts. The differences were not so very much, but obvious and striking.

All her life, she had hated her gender, though the full import had only struck her at the onset of puberty. Women had no opportunities like that of men in her world; they were useless objects, pretty dolls. Playing games with the neighborhood children had always been an uphill battle - her family's wealth denied her the comfort of playing rough and tumble, of simply wandering to the local park and joining the impromptu baseball games. Though her parents were reasonably indulgent, they disliked her getting so dirty and disheveled, of ruining her nice clothes by acting like a boy. But she hated sitting still, hated being told to ‘play nice' and given dolls by ignorant grandparents.

She had cut her hair short at age six, ridding herself of the heavy braid her mother insisted on doing for her. And despite them hiding the household scissors, she cut it again every chance she had until they got the hint, and took her in for proper trimming every few months.

Dresses were like torture for her, and she fought loud and hard to avoid wearing them, though at school she had no choice and she suffered. At home, she wore shirts and trousers, T-shirts and shorts. She would not even walk into the girl's clothing stores and departments unless forcibly dragged.

And none of it had struck her as particularly strange, until she woke up one morning and realized the two lumps on her chest were in fact growing, and not merely some variation of illness. They were tender, itchy as they expanded, and it was the fact she could hold them like warm, soft creatures in her hands that she knew. Her screaming had woken up the entire household, and it had taken her mother almost three hours to calm her down. Explaining to her that she was becoming a woman; that she would soon have breasts, fuller hips, and monthly bleeding, all of it for one prehistoric purpose; so she could bear children. And wasn't that simply wonderful?

"No, no, no!"

What did she want with children? That was the realm of housewives and simpering girlfriends. And she had never truly realized that as she grew up, she would be cursed with the same disease as they, the same horrible physical deformities. She had been comfortable in her neuter child's body, breast-less, hip-less, and slim as a boy; now she would be the same hideous monster as her mother. And she had always considered her beautiful.

Puberty was hell for her. After classes, she would run home and rip off her uniform, only to find her shirts rapidly becoming too small for her, her breasts hurting with their uncomfortable weight. She refused to wear the bra her mother bought her, and suffered in silence, crossing her arms to brace them as she escaped to the racetrack to watch the cars. Watching her dreams pass her by at a hundred kilometers an hour, no longer even plausible.

She became rather reclusive for a year. Her parents finally broke down and found tutors for her, as she refused to leave the house; her hair grew long and shaggy, her weight dropped, and she shunned all clothing except for a rather neutral yukata and sandals. Many tutors quit, unnerved by her blank stare and hour-long silences. All of them had suggested a psychiatrist for her, but when her parents had tried to take her, she simply picked up a knife and locked herself in her room. Extreme measures. She didn't want to live, but she wasn't exactly thrilled at dying either. No doubt she was a fascinating example of some mental disease.

So it went on, until something inside of her finally admitted that this was a worthless venture. Brooding wouldn't solve her problem. She cut her hair again, washed, took a shirt and pants from her father's closet – and their excellent fit, despite what had been clothes for a man half a meter taller than her twelve months ago, gave her strength – and left the house on her own in the first time in a year. No doubt it had been Uranus, irritated at her reincarnation, that had prompted her dazzling conclusion, taking her first few tentative steps within her new body. And it was only a few days later that the dreams had begun, hazy and surreal, though their full meaning would not come for nearly two years.

At the racetrack, she struck up the courage to shake hands with the drivers who, she found out quickly, were complete assholes. They dismissed her quickly enough, though she found immediate kindness in the mechanics that tuned up the cars. And with that came her first surge of confidence; her height, which was impressive for a Japanese female, and her deep, husky voice conspired to give them the first impression that she was a boy. Of course, as she began to visit with regularity, they soon figured out her secret – they were not stupid, merely confused – and faithfully kept it for her.

They gave her the courage to continue her charade, dressing in the shirts and trousers she wanted, learning from them all about the internal workings of a car. Even going so far as to teach her how to drive, she was soon testing out the vehicles for them, loving the whip of wind through the open window, the streaking of colour through glass. To them, she was Haruka, the inquisitive girl; to everyone else, she was Haruka, the dirt-smudged boy always eager to learn something new. Even though she went back to public school and wore the uniforms required, it was no longer a concern. Haruka the male was always freed once the bell rang.

Her parents never referred to her as ‘him' or ‘he,' and as the year passed, she began ignoring them if they called her, no longer used to the female gender; merely ‘Haruka.' And she hardly ever saw them anyway; she was always at the racetrack, steadily working her way up the ranks with talent, perseverance, and a ready smile coupled with an exchange of bribery. She was, after all, used to privilege, though it couldn't prevent her father from dying that spring.

At school, she rapidly outgrew the girl's uniform, and as winter approached, she was elated to wear the trousers and jacket of the boy's. So different did she appear that everyone seemed to forget or ignore her true gender and refer to her in the masculine; and his assured poise was soon legend throughout the hallways. She made the softball team as the pitcher, and on the track team she was their star sprinter, as dedicated as any man, or so she was continuously told. Juggling sports and racing, she became famous on the track as Ten'ou Haruka, the handsome bachelor, with dozens of sponsors vying for his approval. Her mother was proud of her accomplishments, though she continued to call her ‘daughter.'

Now, steadily, ever since she had become Sailor Uranus, she found herself changing.

She glanced into the corner of her bedroom; her mind painting the soft colours and cut of the clothes she knew hung in the closet that the dim morning wouldn't properly bring into focus. Women's clothes, skirts and dresses and soft things she had begun to buy, becoming comfortable with her figure for the first time in her life. It was a frightening yet irritating feeling to find an hour passing, only to see herself in the mirror with a skirt and blouse, properly feminine. A fancy she knew Uranus had given her, not knowing the fun of even being able to change clothes a lifetime ago, and taking the opportunity now.

Uranus had never viewed her gender as anything but an advantage, because it had given her the power of her planet, and means to survive the war despite ages of loneliness. Uranus was disgusted with Haruka's dismissal of their femininity, because to her, men were the truly weak, women the strong. She wanted nothing more than for Haruka to stop her ridiculous obsession and focus fully on the mission, no matter the cost.

The only thing they truly held in common was their love of speed, the need to run and race and take flight as fast as the wind. But Haruka was determined to win this; he had not submitted to an authority or power in fifteen years that could change his ways.

Even though she secretly felt elated at the prospect of losing.









Michiru relaxed beneath the sheets, comfortable in the soft bed as she watched her sandy-blonde lover stand in front of the full-length mirror, partially hidden by the shadows. But she knew by long practice what Haruka was doing, because the demons that haunted her were vicious, demanding creatures. This was a fight over Haruka's very essence of being.

She remembered that first night, drunk on wine obtained from her mother's cabinet and full of promise, when Haruka had kissed her clumsily, tongue searching for a connection, both of them ridiculously innocent. They knew what to do from what television and books and adults had told them, but nothing compared to the true moment when Michiru opened her lips and allowed the tall sandy-blonde in. There had been the taste of the wine in each other's spit, the salt tang of the medium rare steaks they had consumed, the sharp edge of the toothpaste they had both brushed their teeth with prior to their meal. Kami-sama, they had both prepared in case such an event occurred.

The lights had been set to low for atmosphere, and Michiru remembered pulling back, seeing nothing of Haruka except for the very lightest swatches of skin, like an impressionist painting of his face. Stormy grey had darkened to turbulence; Haruka had licked his lips unconsciously, and they were already swollen with the force of their exchange. "Michiru…"

Her hands slid down Haruka's arms – she had been atop, side straddle as though riding a horse, because the black dress she'd worn would allow no vulgar parting of the hips – feeling the subtle muscles flex beneath the fabric of the silk. The tall sandy-blonde had worn a casual, if expensive, slate grey suit and royal blue shirt, though the jacket had been neatly hung in the closet hours before. It was obviously new; the buttonholes were still tight, unused to being stretched, and it took some work and nimble fingers to open the first few.

"Michiru," Haruka had moaned, slightly more forceful.

And she had ignored it, continuing on down her lover's torso, careful to keep it all from falling open too quickly; this was a moment to be savoured. The softer angles were apparent, it was hard not to see them, but she thought nothing of them until the very last button was released, and she spread the cloth. And uttered a startled, undignified squeak.

Perhaps it had merely been her own inability to puzzle out the obvious that had been the true surprise. Because she should have seen it. Why else would her partner become a long-legged, perfectly female sailor soldier when they spoke the words?

But the Haruka she had known, the tall sandy-blonde who caused whispering and turning of heads when passing through the hallways, was never referred to as anything but a male. Even in Japan, where tomboys used the masculine to refer to themselves and other people, it was still obvious they were female when someone spoke back to them. Not so with Haruka; the girls considered him handsome and utterly dateable; the tabloids spoke of his trophies and victories as lustily as they would any man.

Had it simply been a matter of blindness? Had she not wanted to admit why such a change occurred? Or perhaps it had been that she had simply assumed that the spirit of Uranus had been reborn in the wrong body. The magic merely corrected that oversight.

Whatever the particular problem, she stared then at two perfectly normal, full breasts, not unlike her own, perhaps slightly smaller but just as firm. Nipples erect with obvious anticipation, they were also flushed with red that she followed up with her eyes, seeing Haruka's face so blushed with consternation and embarrassment. "Michiru, I…this isn't what…no, no!" she suddenly screamed, shocking the aqua-haired beauty with her volume. "I can see it in your eyes, Kaiou Michiru; repulsive as I am."

"Haruka, you're not in the least –" Michiru hedged, reaching out her hands.

"Get away from me!" Haruka screamed again, shoving her partner completely away. In a very uncharacteristic move, she seemed not to care that Michiru was all but thrown onto the carpet – a nice soft plush, she remembered, but not soft enough to keep her from banging an elbow. She pushed herself up to see Haruka on her feet, buttoning up her shirt with sharp jerks, covering up everything she wanted to hide. Her – his – eyes had gone almost granite grey cold, and they all but stared through Michiru as the shirt disappeared into the waist of his slacks. "Arigatou gozaimasu, Kaiou-san. The meal was excellent. But, I believe it would be best from here on in for us to maintain a strictly business relationship."

The aqua-haired beauty had gaped at Haruka in her own uncharacteristic way. Such an expression was not for a lady, her mother had always told her sternly; only uncouth girls, incapable of reigning in their base emotions, would allow such a slack-jawed reaction. Finally, she found her voice as the tall sandy-blonde unhooked her jacket from the coat hangar. "Haruka, what are you talking about? Kami-sama, allow me to explain before you so viciously close me out!"

"Is there anything to discuss, Kaiou-san?"

"Stop that! Such casual dismissal may work on the fawning girls that follow you at school, and perhaps even at the racetrack. But it will not work so well on me, Ten'ou Haruka, Sailor Uranus!" Michiru rose to her feet in a fluid motion that had Haruka pausing in the very act of sliding on his jacket. Grace was one of the simplest acts of motion that separated the women from the girls; and she wore it flawlessly, walking towards the tall sandy-blonde, knowing that with every slow swing of her hips, she had his attention. Even if she was furious.

She'd stopped within arm's reach, and reached up to settle her hair back behind her shoulders, straightening its tangled nest. "Haruka," she began, with deliberate calmness, "I apologize, simply. Nothing I can say will erase the humiliation I no doubt caused you." With the clasp of her hands in supplication, she bowed low. "As your partner, as Sailor Neptune, I beg your forgiveness."

Haruka, she had known by the weight of eyes on her head, was merely staring at her. And why not; she had been correct in her assessment of the tall sandy-blonde's life. With his poise, he gained more than his fair share of admirers, all of which he ignored almost completely outright. He had no use for gawking girls, foolish in what they no doubt considered love. And, though Michiru did not know it, but was beginning to guess, he had no need for someone who could not understand his dilemma.

And from the lengthy silence, it was indeed a large dilemma.

Several minutes passed.

Finally, she felt a hand smooth back the stray hairs on her head, sliding down her cheek to come up under her chin. Her head was tilted up, their eyes meeting; and Michiru was positive it was not her imagination that Haruka was on the verge of crying. "You should never have to bow to me, Kaiou Michiru," he murmured. "A beautiful woman should always stand tall as the men bow to her."

"Ara, but a woman is allowed to beg forgiveness when she's in the wrong," she bantered back casually, though they were both trembling with emotion. "And surely, I deserve to beg. I should have anticipated…iie, I should have known."

Just that like, the ice, instead of being broken, grew thick as the glaciers. Haruka withdrew his hand, his body pulling entirely away. "And why, Kaiou-san, should you have known? I am a mistake, and cleverly crafted. Because the kami did not place me properly in this lifetime, I am forced to create the illusion of man."

"And is what why, when we are transfigured by the magic, you are a powerful woman? Those are our true forms, Haruka; we were merely reborn into this life, to complete our mission. I, thinking you were indeed the man in this life, was under the impression that you had indeed been improperly reborn, but not as you think. And why does it matter?"

The tall sandy-blonde had turned entirely away, fists clenching at his sides. "Because it isn't right! Because I have always wished, longed, to be the man, to be rough and respected and to have the power of men in this world! And I created my illusion, and I was mollified, but I knew I could never share my sorrows or cry on the shoulders of a lover, because I go against nature! I am a freak!" He slammed his fist into the wall, neither of them flinching as a beveled mirror fell and shattered at his feet. "And then I saw you, and I longed for you, as a man longs for a beautiful woman. But I couldn't have that happiness! I could never, ever aspire to such heights!"

Another blow of his fist brought down a small framed photograph, and another would no doubt send the neighbors to the telephone. "And then, what does life do but taunt me? Sailor Uranus, a powerful soldier indeed, but a woman! A woman! Kami-sama, why did the fates curse me in such a way, to reveal to me this existence? So close to you in ever battle I can smell your skin, dream of touching it, and it can't be, it simply is not going to happen! This is the reality, Michiru, the disgusting, horrible truth!"

So close…yes, that was the decisive moment. The aqua-haired beauty had watched it all in silence, Caribbean eyes unfathomable, churning as she listened. She felt an inner ache for her partner, a distillation of sorrow and joy and fear and anticipation, marveling at how she could remain still so calm. Knowing then that she had nothing left to question, that it was never about her fears, but Haruka's; she loved him. She loved her. It didn't matter that their bodies were incompatible, that beneath the sheets, they would find similar softness and curve.

On the last word, Michiru pressed swiftly up against the tall sandy-blonde, opening her mouth to swallow the harshness of Haruka's rant, pulling them together. Back she stumbled, both of them tripping over each other's feet, and the aqua-haired beauty found herself pinned against the wall, fingers tight in the collar of Haruka's jacket. Lips seamless, tongues meeting, it was all a matter of passion in that moment.

With another jerk, they switched positions, and Haruka grunted as his back hit the wall this time. But he was quick to fumble with Michiru's hands as they dropped again, pulling at the buttons of his shirt, both of them quick to anger again. "Why are you doing this now? I told you—"

"Shut up, Haruka," Michiru snapped, slapping his hands away. With a quick yank, she had ripped the rest of the buttons apart, a few falling between their feet, and lowered her head to kiss first the right breast, and then the left. Her arms wound around Haruka's waist to keep her from fleeing as she nuzzled into the softness like a kitten, slowly tugging them both down onto the wood of the foyer.

So their first act of true passion had been on a hardwood floor, hardly the comfortable scenario she had always envisioned, but most memorable. How many times had she writhed in bliss, her thighs locking tight around her lover's head, desperate to hold her in position? And she, never imagining she would love a woman, but quick to learn and eager to please, had been in the same grip several times as well.

Now, they were entirely attuned to each other's bodies, knowing exactly where to touch and how hard, how soft. They had a small locked cabinet at Haruka's condo of embellishments, though they were hardly used; they simply shed their clothing and fell into an embrace. And for Michiru, at least, it was enough.

But she had seen immediately that, even though she had accepted Haruka despite her posing and pretending, the tall sandy-blonde still had not accepted herself. And as Uranus grew stronger in her soul, as Neptune swelled in her own, she watched Haruka become confused. Was she truly happy pretending to be a man? No, not any longer; or at least, not as much. There had come days when Haruka had primped herself, borrowing her lover's makeup and, for a time, clothes, going out as a beautiful woman. And though she seemed at first to not entirely be aware of what she did, gradually she was shedding her male clothing more and more for skirts and blouses and heels.

None of her racing sponsors knew this of course, nor their fellow students; indeed, if they ever ran into some, they thought Haruka to be someone entirely new. Her poise was so different, her features subtly changed by make up and the fit of her clothing, that Michiru had been asked by more than a few male students if ‘she' was single. It was, frankly, a disconcerting game of identity, one that the aqua-haired beauty was adept at playing, though she was beginning to grow weary. Not that she wished her lover ill by refusing to cater to her/his needs, but never knowing who would answer the door, or arrive at their dinner date, was stressful.

She watched Haruka disappear from the bedroom, no doubt searching for a late night drink, and thus free to move, she shifted to prop herself up. Her own bruises ached in response, and she flinched, touching one particularly vicious pain on her hipbone. And all of this from merely one of the enemies! Kami-sama, what would happen when they faced the next one, most likely upset and vengeful over Hanyu-san's death?

With a gesture she called forth the mirror, tilting it to catch a stray sunbeam to see her face; as expected, she looked like hell. Her lips were dry and cracked, her forehead bore a nasty cut, and her eyes seemed rather vacant, like that of a shell shock victim. And she felt like one, too, considering that this had been the worse battle of her life as a sailor soldier. Daimon were not habitually nasty, or vindictive; they simply attacked and died quickly, too stupid to run away from the force of their powers. Mimete had been intelligent enough to hurt them, and badly, and she could have quite possibly killed them if the gaigokujin hadn't intervened.

Her frown looked twice as harsh in the glass. The woman had known their names, an entirely unexpected occurrence. And when the rest of the sailor soldiers had arrived, as well as a dark-haired man in a tuxedo – most assuredly Chiba-san – they had seemed unsurprised that the woman was even there. Not even children, such as they, could be so stupid as to talk about their mission in front of an innocent bystander. Though she was hardly even that; without using magic or even a change of identity, the woman had fought Mimete without pausing to consider the risk to her life.

"Michiru, you look beautiful as always in the morning light." Haruka's voice was low and faintly tired, drifting from the open door. She looked up to see her lover standing there, legs and torso visible by the stripes of light coming through the blinds, the rest of her merely a dark shape that assumed human form. Clad only in tasteful blue silk bikini briefs, the colour brought out the bruises and marks on Haruka's body as she came fully into the light, a serving tray in her hands. Two glasses of orange juice, and some fresh strawberries – a favourite of both, though hideously expensive – sliced on a plate was their shared breakfast.

Taking a slice, Michiru ate it delicately from her fingertips, not too entirely beaten to not tease her lover with the tiniest lick at the soft fruit. "Arigatou, anata. But surely you're stalling; why I would have my mirror out, is what you want to ask me." She gestured to the elegant object, which nestled in her lap looking harmless.

Haruka paused in sitting on the edge of the bed, the tray set on its legs properly between them on the covers. She deliberately took up a glass, taking a healthy swallow of juice before saying, "I was assuming it could wait until we were finished eating."

"Why wait? After all, we are not only constrained by time, but by a lack of. We need answers and the solution, quickly." The aqua-haired beauty touched her fingers to the silvered surface of the glass. "Mimete called herself one of the Witches 5, yet that woman refuted her, saying they were now 4. Assumedly, with Mimete dead, it is now down to three of them. That also leaves their masters, and the child, all of whom still live."

"Has anything changed?"

"Iie. She still is as sickly pale and weak as ever. Many times I've seen her collapse in the hallway, complaining of headaches; but they have not gotten noticeably worse. If we work quickly, it will no longer be a problem."

They ate for a few minutes in silence, fingers nimble and reddened as they devoured the soft fruit. Haruka stared past her lover and out the window, watching the birds fly by as they sang lustily into the morning. Normally at this time, she would be alone, getting ready for school by herself, cinching up into her costume and mask, knowing Michiru was waiting for him outside. Just this once, they were being slothful and taking the day off, able to breathe easily outside of the stifling confinement of Infinity.

And no doubt, it was a jail; if it were not the undercover operation of enemies trying to overtake the world, it would be perhaps easier to breathe. To feel safe. Instead, every minute of every day, they knew they had applied to the elite academy not for grades and educational status, but to vanquish the enemy. Both of them had managed to evade the physicals the school nurse insisted on giving each student, which was no doubt the method they used to turn the innocent into monsters. Michiru was a surprisingly excellent hacker; all it had taken was a few hours at the keyboard to enter them in the school's files as ‘tested.' And it was a trial to enter each day and know that potential enemies surrounded them.

These new sailor soldiers had no idea what it meant to sacrifice so much for the mission. Promising careers and dreams come true; both of them had these. Both of them would give it all up to succeed.

"As long as our third never comes in contact with us, it will never be a problem," Haruka remarked at last, feeding Michiru the last slice. "So we need merely make our move."

"Hai; but before we can, we have to neutralize any threats. These new sailor soldiers are too innocent, too childish to fully recognize the trouble they've gotten into. But this woman…the one who called us by our ancient names…" The aqua-haired beauty held up the mirror for both of them to see, the glass showing nothing more than tousled sheets and bruised, wanting bodies. "Deep Aqua Mirror, show me…"

The glass went opaque, wiped clean of everything as though Michiru had drawn her hand across it. Then it rippled, swirled, and gave them the image they wanted; the tall red-head in an unrecognizable place, looking angry. But she was talking to someone, that much was obvious, making the situation impossible. Without bothering to ask her partner, Michiru released the image and allowed the glass to reflect them once more.

"How lucky for her," Haruka murmured, touching a hand to her lover's cheek.

"Yare yare, Haruka, surely you aren't glad we're forced to stay our hand," Michiru sighed, setting the mirror aside. "It will have to be very soon…"

"Hai, hai. But not quite yet; this gaijin, then the enemies and the completion of our mission will come in time." The tall sandy-blonde nudged her lover back, smiling devilishly as she slid her other hand lower. "After all, exercise is essential for a healing body."

"Haruka…"










"Ami, really, I'm fine! See? Nothing rattling loose in my skull, everything's still working half-ass like it should. Stop poking me with that thing!" The tall red-head squirmed as Ami attempted to listen to her heart for what seemed to be the hundredth time, wielding one of her mother's old stethoscopes.

"Is it so terrible for me to be concerned, Alex-san? From what you described, you could have suffered a concussion from the impact with the wall, and which could have been compounded by our fainting spell!"

"We did not faint, we were knocked out by the loss of equilibrium in our inner ears!"

"Hai, sailor soldiers don't faint!" Minako piped up from the corner of the yard.

Ami threw up her hands in a mild pique, removing the stethoscope from her ears. "If it's any consolation, Alex-san, you're one of the healthiest people I know. But it doesn't mean you're superhuman and impervious to injury!"

The tall red-head snorted, touching the back of her skull and the small bruise that had taken up quiet, if firm, residence. "Believe me, I know, I've gotten my ass kicked enough back in the day to be reminded. I just didn't hit nearly hard enough to warrant this much fuss."

"It can only take the smallest tap, Alex-san," Luna said at her feet.

Alex glared down at her, dropping her arm back onto her knee. "Don't you start."

Around the courtyard, the girls tittered, though their amusement was darkened by the event that had brought them to Rei's temple, all of them skipping school defiantly. They had been lucky enough to endure only the sucker punch that Uranus had given them, but the repercussions had shaken them to the core. It had been interesting, definitely, to find out that they were not the only people fighting the Death Busters; but to realize now that they were two new sailor soldiers, and that they had attacked them? Even Pluto had remained to give them a reasonable explanation for her actions.

The cats had not had the time to really tell them about their revelation, that perhaps Neptune and Uranus were awake and active in this time. Considering that, as Artemis rather flatly pointed out, their last meeting at the parlor had been spent talking more about cute boys than their mission. Minako had argued that it had been an important discussion, because it kept their minds sharp and tested their ability to be discerning about any possible undercover enemies.

None of them, amazingly, had gained any bruises; a first. But they had not wanted to spend another day in school, unable to discuss or even puzzle over this new mystery, so the tall red-head had done a quick race around the city to ‘convince' their teachers that they were in fact attending. Their parents thought them in class, though Rei's grandfather, having brought them some tea, seemed to be ambivalent about her playing hooky; finally, he seemed to decide that she was grown enough to make her own choices. And though she wouldn't admit it, or even say it, Rei looked to be much more at ease once her grandfather did so.

Dressed in their respective uniforms, even Makoto and Mamoru – they didn't have to pretend for anyone, but it was a strong habit to break – everyone sat or stood on the porch or on the scattered wooden benches sitting out for visitors. So early in the morning, they had only seen two come up the steps, ritual attendees to the shrine whom had greeted Rei with nothing more than a bow and gone on their way to ring the bell and summon the kami. With the Meiji shrine taking more foreign tourists every year, the lack of revenue and loyal worshippers was dwindling slowly. It made it an excellent place for the soldiers to meet, but a terrible burden on Rei and her grandfather.

"Uranus and Neptune," Makoto remarked quietly, after Alex's examination was finally finished. "Why would they attack us so cruelly?" She lifted a hand to her head, remembering the explosion of wind and force that had hit them, and the sudden nauseating sensation of their inner ear being shaken. "We didn't offer them violence."

"Hai; as fellow sailor soldiers, why were they so angry with us? Surely our mission is the same, no matter what! To protect the innocent and stop the enemy!" Usagi rose to her feet with the force of her statement, a soft fist clenched against her chest. It was a familiar pose to see, one that they knew meant she was getting deeply passionate about the topic. "That was our reason for accepting fate, and giving up our happy lives!"

And giving up more, though she didn't mean to imply such. Their freedom, their future, their comfortable civilian identities; perhaps that was the reason those two were so upset.

Ami, thoughtful as always, remarked, "But for new soldiers, they were remarkably excellent with their powers. Uranus used her attack to disrupt the equilibrium in our ear canals, by adjusting her wind-based power to upset the pressure around us. The slightest miscalculation could have blown us into the walls, or even caused our eardrums to explode and permanently deafen us."

"That is true, Ami," Artemis agreed, glancing towards Luna, "they could have hardly awakened, we've heard nothing of them in this time, and yet, to have such control!"

"They did call us clumsy," Minako snorted, flicking back her hair. "In the theatre. Acting all superior, as if I didn't work alone for a year as Sailor V! Longer than anyone else, I've been a sailor soldier!"

Chibi-Usa, nibbling from her box lunch, remarked, "But I've never heard of Uranus or Neptune. Mama and papa never mentioned any other sailor soldiers protecting the kingdom, except for Pu and Venus and Jupiter and Mars and Mercury."

The tall red-head frowned, bowing her head, arms lax on her knees, as the others exclaimed in astonishment at this. "Chibi-Usa, you know you shouldn't be telling us anything more about the future," Mamoru said rather sternly, folding his arms. "We know too much already."

"Gomen nasai, Mamo-chan," she lamented quietly. Next to her, Diana gently licked her hand in support, knowing how much it bothered the pink-haired child to be chastised in the least by her parents. Even if he was completely right; they knew far too much of their future to be assured that it would continue on its correct course. Though none of them ever voiced the concern, they were all constantly on edge every single day, still worrying that the bus they might've missed, or the test they passed or failed had changed the course of events. As time went on, this worry began to fade; but for now, it was still quite fresh in their minds, brought back in force by Mamoru's statement.

And was it something they had done that had awakened these two soldiers' souls?

Perhaps the very thing they had done to bring about the Silence they all dreamed of?

Diana, noting someone's thoughtful look, queried, "Alex-sama?"

"'The sea is joyless…no longer does heaven's wind blow…'" Alex murmured to herself, remembering the poem on the wall. She shook her head, running a hand back through her tangled hair. "I remember reading a poem on the palace wall, in the hallway where they had painted an effigy for all of you. It was dedicated to the fallen heroes; ‘the sea,' heaven's wind,' instead of the obvious titles: Neptune, and Uranus. You never knew of them, Chibi-Usa, because something happened to them before you were born or old enough to remember. So perhaps we didn't cause their awakening by visiting the future; it was meant to be."

"But even so," Rei interrupted coolly, gesturing with her hand, "why and how did they awaken without the help of Luna or Artemis? They had to come to us personally to give us our pens and our identities; is there another cat out there, or someone else reborn helping them?"

Alex slouched back on the bench, grimacing. "Not that I know of. I honestly don't even know how they were even reborn; I never had a chance to meet them the last time, so I didn't bring their spirits with me to Earth. Though it's also possible that they never even died."

"Never died? You mean, they're thousands of years old? Like Pluto?" Usagi gaped.

"It's possible. After all, once you truly become sailor soldiers, you'll live forever; that is, unless some evil monster kills you before then. But it doesn't make much sense. If they had lived through all these years, they should have shown up before now to try and destroy Metallia. And even more, if they claim this to be their mission solely, that means these new enemies are from outside the solar system; they should have either destroyed them or died trying."

The blue-haired genius raised her hand, as if in class, to call attention to herself. "Is it possible that they indeed died, and two new soldiers were awakened and trained without your knowledge?"

"In a crisis, a soldier would awaken entirely in a new body, accelerating growth if need be into maturity," Alex answered, palming her forehead. "Though I never witnessed such a thing; when I was at court, you girls had been born into peaceful times, and grew up rather normally. But the way they said it was their mission, that they had failed…I don't believe they were born entirely new in this time. Reborn, most likely, or still alive these years."

Alive for so many centuries…all of them unconsciously shivered at the idea, a long life they had avoided through death and rebirth, a life they would gain after an icy cataclysm. For Usagi and Mamoru, who would ascend to the throne, it could hardly be so bad; courted as royalty, living as king and queen for a millenium. But for the soldiers who faced possible eternity evading violent death and wracking injury while in the service of the kingdom, it was a terrible vision. The kami knew how Uranus and Neptune would have fared after so long.

Relaxed against a supporting post, his leg beginning to grow uncomfortably warm beneath the weight of his princess as she leaned against him, Mamoru gestured in much the same way Ami had, saying, "Even so, they call themselves sailor soldiers. The soldiers of our galaxy answered to the queen of the Silver Millennium, or their respective planetary royalty, correct?"

"Hai," Luna answered. "Even as soldiers, ranking above the armies—"

"I'm not finished, Luna." The dark-haired prince cut her off gently but firmly, holding up a finger. "So, if not any queen or king in this time, would they not respect the figures of their fellow soldiers? After all, Sailor Venus is the leader of the assembled sailor soldiers, is she not? Or am I wrong in assuming that Uranus and Neptune, being mere perimeter detail, would still be under the rank of Venus?"

In a moment of comedy, everyone turned and looked at the long-haired blonde, who seemed partially elated at this time of clarity. "Would they truly? I mean, I know I lead the five – ah, six – of us," she corrected, looking hastily at Chibi-Usa's widening mouth, "but would I really have authority over them? And, maybe, even Pluto?"

Artemis muttered something beneath his breath that must have been a doozy; he went rather one dimensional under his loving and attentive ward's fist.

Eyeing the flat feline, the tall red-head said, "In times of crisis where the three outer system soldiers would have to be called to defend the kingdom, yes, I would place them under your authority. Separate and while working on their own mission, they have no actual leader; they answer to no one unless an enemy evades them and enters the galaxy proper."

"But this is a crisis, and we must make them realize this," Luna interrupted smoothly, as she did so well. "A crisis in which all of you must work together."

"Exactly," Alex agreed, taking back the reins just as easily. "It ceased being their solitary mission once the enemy became engaged on Earth. Now, it lands under our jurisdiction, which means everyone will be involved to stop them."

The comfortable silence that fell in the lull was broken by the loud crunch of a cookie. Usagi was merrily scavenging breakfast out of her own bento box as well, as she had gotten up too late – again! – to grab some toast on the way out. Next to her, Chibi-Usa had long since demolished her own, and was stealing some cucumber as stealthily as possible with her Hello Kitty chopsticks. The resulting squabble as Usagi caught her was becoming familiar; the pink-haired child seemed convinced of her own maturity and mocked her future mother, whilst the odango-haired blonde argued the point and her future daughter's lack of respect.

Everyone left them to it. Ami pulled out the architectural blueprints she had been asked to find for the Mugen Gakuen building, a veritable sheaf of schematics. She unfolded them amidst the clacking of chopsticks in deadly battle, placing small rocks as Rei handed them to her to pin the edges. "The building is a complete educational complex, containing grades kindergarten through graduate. It also houses a rooftop garden and greenhouse, as well as a telescope and observatory." With a rather comical gesture she whipped out a pointer, extending it with far too much ease – and putting a bit of fear in Makoto and Minako as she wielded it – and pointed to the appropriate areas.

"Though it is such a complete educational system, it is exclusive and expensive, and class sizes are appropriately small to compensate. In times of fire or earthquake, the building is also adequately prepared, and can be evacuated quickly." Gesturing to the various doors and pulling out a second diagram to show them the fairly wide stairways that ran the entire height of the building, as well as its flexibility overall, it was obvious that if it came down to a pitched battle within the school, the students would be safe. Not only was it made overall for safety, but the small class sizes would ensure less time wasted evacuating the student body in a hurry.

"Entry into the school, even if you happen to be a registered, paying student, requires an ID badge and a solid reason for being there. Such IDs are usually given out to non-students if they have been approached with an application for the school. Almost no other reason exists for any non-student to receive such a badge."

"They don't want anyone poking around in their business that won't be harvested for their insidious plans," Alex muttered under her breath.

Ami touched her pointer to the basement diagram, pulling out her reading glasses with another practiced flick of her wrist and sliding them on. Squinting was bad on her eyes. "The basement is, on paper, mostly storage facilities. Entry in and out solely through the building corridors itself. Chairs, desks, equipment, and various other extras are stored down there, though, according to the building plans I've uncovered, the mass of the building, as well as the amount of dirt unearthed for the foundation, leaves the area of almost an entire floor unaccounted in public records." Not that it was required for proof, but she picked up the notebook pages on which she had scribbled her equations and shook them.

"An entire floor? Kami-sama, they could hide anything beneath the school, and no one would know." Minako sounded horrified, no doubt envisioning the sleeping babes of the daimon they had encountered, waiting to be placed within an innocent student. And with so many questions left unanswered, it was hard for the rest of them not to imagine the same.

Rolling up the top few layers of blueprints, Ami discarded them neatly to the side to reveal an entirely different building schematic; the veritable mansion that resided next door to the school. Once again pinning them down with the rocks, she waited the span of a minute as a sheepish pair of odango appeared in their huddle, as well as their dark-haired prince. "This is the blueprint for the Tomoe Research Labs, home of the professor Tomoe Souichi; by land grants and funding, he owns Mugen Gakuen. Again, as with Mugen, the mass of the building and the dirt unearthed for the foundation leaves almost an entire floor unaccounted on paper."

"Possibly a tunnel connecting the two buildings underground?" Makoto queried.

"That would be almost a certainty. They would need ways to exit and enter without being seen if the floor beneath Mugen contains their secrets. And for easy access to a laboratory that they no doubt cooked up their little monsters in." The tall red-head frowned, cupping her chin. "What about the labs, Ami? Any civilians to worry about?"

Another blueprint hit the dust, and a rather glossy poster of three faces was unrolled; obviously, Ami took pride in her work. The damn thing looked professional. "Only three people reside in the labs, as the front half of the building contains living quarters. Tomoe Souichi, the owner and scientist, widowed, workaholic; his assistant and acting principal of Mugen Gakuen, Kuromine Kaoli, an unfinished major in genetic science; and Tomoe Hotaru, the daughter, who attends the school in the sixth grade."

Next to Usagi, Chibi-Usa straightened suddenly as she heard a name she had heard twice before; but now, seeing her face on the glossy paper, recognizing the two who shared her world, and that hideous single eye and peculiar smile…she knew. She covered her mouth with a hand as though she would be sick as she realized that the lonely girl she had so casually, easily befriended, was the daughter of their possible enemy; also, perhaps, an enemy herself?

"Iie!"

It was several minutes before she noticed everyone was staring at her in surprise, considering her sudden cry. Ami had a look of visible annoyance, like the proper scholar she was, at being interrupted. "Chibi-Usa, what is it?" Rei asked, breaking her rather contemplative silence at last. The pink-haired child pushed through the ranks to pick up the glossy poster, as though to confirm close up what she had already discovered.

"Hotaru-chan…Kaoli-kun…sou yo, the one-eyed man…" she chanted softly, pointing them out in turn. "Usagi, I told you about this girl, I met her at the gallery that day. The one who fainted."

"You met Tomoe Hotaru? All the way down in bloody Ise? What the hell would she have been doing there?" Alex asked above her.

"I don't know…but they were all there, this Kaoli woman, and her father, too, with his terrible eye."

They could see what eye she meant so clearly, for even in polite company Souichi never seemed to bother concealing it. And that alone was surely a mark of madness, for no one would walk around with such a disturbing embellishment plain as day on their face. There was no public documentation to explain why he even had such an eyepiece, for every medical record they had uncovered listed his vision as a perfect 20/20, which created an even worse puzzle.

"She was so nice, and sad," Chibi-Usa explained as she handed the poster back to Ami, "not at all evil. We could be friends. Surely, she can't be the enemy!"

"No one is calling her an enemy yet, Chibi-Usa-chan," the tall brunette soothed, reaching out a hand to pat the child on the shoulder. "The fault lies almost certainly with her father, if any of that family. Ne, minna?"

"It would explain why Mugen Gakuen is so heavily involved," Mamoru mused. "After all, how easy it would be to use the students as experiments when you own the entire building, able to come and go as you please, trusted by them all."

"Which is why we need to go undercover and investigate as soon as possible!" The long-haired blonde made a fist, punching the air furiously. "We'll discover the secrets of the Death Busters, and the Witches 5!"

Rei, on her right side, coughed delicately. "Ano, I believe it's the Witches 3 now, Minako."

Shrugging, Minako pulled forth her crescent compact, doing a rather interesting trick of rolling it up and down her forearm as she said, "Numbers don't count until the enemy is vanquished, Rei." Flipping her hand, she transferred it to her other arm as she did a quick little dance to keep her balance, inadvertently stepping on Ami's blueprints. Apologetically smiling, she added, "maybe we should go today, sensei, I can then secure a date with Ten'ou-san while we're there! Then it'll give me incentive to fight the enemy harder, and spend my summer in bliss."

The girls gave up a mixed reaction of laughter and sighs – that sounded like Minako – though Alex began to chuckle, and then slowly stopped, her face drawing into a frown. Even though the girls had not taken any serious injury, they were most definitely not ready to encounter any more sneak attacks. "Tomorrow, Minako, we'll go," she said thoughtfully, holding up a hand to stave off any arguments. "Tomorrow. Today is a day for rest, especially after the shock you've all had. If we encounter the enemy, we'll need to be prepared."

Minako sighed loudly, though she knew the tall red-head was right, and spun around to capture Makoto's arm. With a grin of pure glee, she pulled the hapless brunette away with her, saying loudly, "So, then, Mako-chan, tell me more about this Sommers-san! He sounds so handsome, I'm almost tempted to sign up for classes myself!"

"Minako, you never have enough allowance left to even pay for such a thing!" Artemis protested.

"Ignore the wet towel, he doesn't know what he's talking about! Details, Mako-chan, everything juicy! Doesn't he train you personally, in private, all alone with no one to hear you scream?"

"D-demo sa-a, Minako…!"

"Me too, I want to hear everything!" Usagi cajoled, latching onto the tall brunette's left arm, Chibi-Usa her hand.

They dragged her off towards the shrine building proper, followed at length by an exasperated Rei, yelling at them to not disturb the serenity and peace of the shrine, and Ami carrying her blueprints, intrigued by Makoto's projected love life, but unwilling to admit it. She was muttering something about preventing Rei from uttering a curse on the two blondes – she had done it before, triggering an even louder argument – and sped to catch up. "It always amazes me how they manage to turn a simple meeting into a nonstop gossip contest," Luna sighed, her whiskers drooping.

"Minako does have some amazing talents," Artemis said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

The tall red-head slouched down onto a nearby bench, laughing underneath her breath. "You two are worse than their parents. At least they aren't fighting tooth and nail, trying to kill one another." She stretched her arms above her head, ignoring both felines giving her a rather annoyed set of glares. "Besides, they're just kids. Let them have their fun while they can." A shadow passed over her face, and she sighed. "Just for this time."

Mamoru looked slowly away from her to watch his princess and their radiant child, laughing as they egged Minako on to new heights of craziness. It was incredible in how they acted like twins, even doing the same adorable little dance from foot to foot. And yet, centuries spanned between them, their lives so radically different. "Are you afraid that we'll never have the time to enjoy our lives?" he asked quietly, having long ago calculated himself how many years they had until they took the throne. Not so many, considering how long they would reign afterwards.

"I don't know," was the answer, after about a minute. "No; I do know, and that doesn't inspire confidence. I lived that life, I played the hero, and I watched people die. I lost…I saw my friends die, and I couldn't save them. I watched the world end, and rebuild itself minutes later, and my father comatose at my feet." Alex clenched her fist atop the back of the bench, obviously remembering that particular event. "Anything can happen. Already they've sacrificed themselves, and even though they were given a third chance, it can happen again."

A particularly loud laugh had them all glancing back towards the building, where it looked as though Minako and Makoto were mock sparring, the long-haired blonde flat on her face; and Luna whispered, "I don't ever want to lose her again."

"None of them, Luna. Not a single one."










The pain was wretched, spinning her body airborne, twisting in the agony it sought to avoid. Centered in her forehead, like a migraine gone horribly wrong, it felt as though something were trying to free itself from skin and bone; an alien birth. Sometimes she thought she could even feel her flesh moving beneath her hand as she touched it.

This time the attack had caught her just outside of the bathroom, damp from the shower; though not always, the intense heat she preferred while bathing seemed to bring forth the pain. She couldn't understand it – her prosthetics were waterproof and virtually heatproof to nearly incalculable levels – and her father had no ready answers. So she finally just gave up and screamed.

She felt the footsteps coming rather than heard, her arms so tight around her head that it effectively deafened her. Lying on the wood floor, her body twisted, she looked nearly dead, and she wished at the moment she were. It would stop the pain forever, and she would be free of her shell. She wondered, briefly, if reincarnation was possible for someone like her, who had cheated death unfairly instead of staying at her mother's side.

"Hotaru…? I thought I heard a noise, and I came to see – Hotaru! Professor, she's having another attack!" Soft, cool hands came down around her shoulders, lifting her up; she kicked, flailing, only partially fighting the pain now. She could always tell Kaoli-kun was touching her by the feel of her palms, so dry and bloodless, much like her own skin. Not at all warm and gentle and living like she remembered of her mother's hands.

Her father had a moist, unpleasant touch, but then, he hardly ever handled her except during examinations, and in a clinical manner she disliked.

Against her will, her head was levered up, her mouth pried open by two powdery fingers; she gagged, inhaling convulsively and felt the rush of relief flow through her body. The fingers withdrew, allowing her to breathe again – no doubt they worried about her biting her tongue or choking, which had happened multiple times – and she opened her eyes. Her father, as strangely amused as always, patted her on the head. "There now, Hotaru, are you feeling better? Much better."

"Hai, papa," she murmured in partial disbelief, compacting her body like a turtle into its shell. Kaoli-kun got the hint, quickly for once, and released her from her suffocating hold, standing up. "But papa, what did you do? I wasn't given any medicine."

It was then that she realized that something hung heavy around her neck; puzzled, she looked down to find a strange, finned seed pendant half the size of her fist. She fancied she could see it glowing, a pulsation of light that ebbed and beat in time with her heart. It was beautiful in a way, but entirely not of her liking; she wore no jewelry, and was not allowed to anyway within Infinity. "Papa, what is this?"

"It's an amulet, Hotaru; a special amulet. Hold it, and feel comfort from your pain, and perhaps you will need no more medicine. You'll be whole and well again," her father explained calmly, touching the amulet's point with his finger, as if bestowing it with power. And he was right; she did feel comforted and calm, her forehead no longer aching to burst. But what kind of magic could ease her pain by mere touch? Perhaps magnets and copper, as folk healers had prescribed for ages? Though magnets always acted strange around her; she could not even touch a computer, or its hard drive would erase.

She hefted its weight in her hand, standing solidly on her feet; yes, she did indeed feel better. "Arigatou, papa," she whispered, rubbing its strange ridges against her cheek. "I'll carry this amulet with me wherever I go."

So saying she retreated back to her bedroom, shoulders hunching against Kaoli-kun's whispering, as if she couldn't hear her! "Professor, perhaps I'm too sudden with her; does her mistrust of me make it worse?"

"Iie, I believe it makes the body strong, for the coming challenge," her father replied just as she closed her door, his strange, careless laughter cut off in mid-exhale. She frowned, wondering what he could possibly mean; did he think her attacks would get worse before he could sufficiently work up a cure? She hoped not, she couldn't take any more of the pain of living like a monster.

Within her room, however, she felt safe, perpetual twilight hiding her infirmities, softening her body. She could look into her mirror and not be repulsed by her shocking skin, her abnormal body, the scars, the web of tracery beneath the flesh. But as she looked now, she saw only a robe askew on her limbs, baring the deceiving softness of her breast and hip, covered by the cloth of her underclothes. She pulled it shut and tied it properly, grimacing at the thought of Kaoli-kun seeing her in such a state – though the red-haired woman had seen her in far worse. A sight her mother should have been privileged to see.

Nimble fingers turned on a few more lamps, and she luxuriated in the sight of so many tiny lights surrounding her, like fireflies in the night; like her name. Soft white incandescent bulbs within lamps of every description – Tiffany, Art Deco, cheap glass – small enough for her to lift with a hand. When her father had rebuilt after the fire, she had asked him to accommodate her treasures, and so the room did not even have a conventional overhead light. No single switch flooded the room with luminescence; she chose which to turn on herself. It was a tiny bit of power, and she wielded it with grace.

When she had the proper lighting, she shed her robe, avoiding the mirror, and pulled out clothing; all black, all long and concealing. She never showed her scars in public, hardly even in private, and her wardrobe reflected it. And what else could she wear but such somber shades? She had no joy in life, nothing to make her appreciate it. So she pulled on her opaque tights, noting idly that a small run had started near her hip, and smoothed them. Over that she pulled a plain dress with long sleeves, light enough for the weather, if still uncomfortably hot in the sun. Nothing could make black tolerable outside of proper shade.

Brushing out her hair, she let it air dry as usual, hardly concerned with its style. It had been kept in the same shoulder-length cut ever since her childhood, and always managed to arrange itself properly out of her face. No doubt she looked like some shade of Death, walking down the street searching for a victim. She made a face in the mirror, and nodded slowly; yes, Death walked among them.

What small allowance she had – for her father usually just gave her a few handfuls of yen when the urge struck him before entering his lab – went into her pocket, a pair of somewhat large sunglasses over her eyes. The sun still hurt her delicate cornea, making them burn as though they were in fire; it, too, would pass, her father said. Transition. She exited her room properly prepared and hurried for the front door, in no mood to encounter that red-haired harpy again. She didn't even bother leaving a note, her father would never read it. If he were finished in the lab before she returned, it would be a miracle.

In the genkan, she slipped on a pair of walking boots, wriggling her toes to ensure their fit before walking into the outside world. Like entering a different world in a fun house, the world of her father's lab and school was entirely separate from the rest of society. She so rarely left the one for the other that she experienced a bit of culture shock every time. Even now she marveled at how unusual people looked. Though she supposed they would look unusual to anyone; Tokyo was a city of transition. Fashion changed by the hour, and radically, ignoring all concepts of morality or even taste.

As it was after school hours, the bus was crammed with students going home, and she was forced to share a seat. Even with people she didn't know, who didn't know who she was, she effected them; they inched away from her touch, stared relentlessly at her body. She imagined they could read her every trauma emblazoned on her forehead, even as she stared resolutely ahead. Even as new passengers came on, old passengers exited, she was the center of their prying eyes. Even when her seatmate left, his forced touch lingered.

She had no set particulars, only a reason to get out of the stifling house and allow the stress of her attack to lift from her shoulders, so she continued to watch the stops go by. Perhaps she would switch buses and visit HMV; perhaps the CD she had been waiting for was in. Or she could find herself a quiet noodle shop and indulge in some dinner, a rarity in her house; her father was not what anyone could call a culinary master. He ate enough for five people, and often joked – though she was almost certain he wasn't joking at all – that he was in fact eating for two. And Kaoli-kun…she grimaced at the window in remembrance of her latest attempt at cooking…it had started out life as instant curry, but somewhere, turned into what had tasted like sewer mold.

How anyone could destroy instant curry was beyond the raven-haired girl, but it was apparently possible. She herself was a frequent take-out connoiseur, preferring even the gummy, lukewarm meals that they often arrived as instead of one of her father's strange attempts that resembled a living organism. But when she could muster up the mood to mingle out among the living, she went to a restaurant, and the more she thought about it now, the better it sounded. Though she needed to eat soon; the pressing of another headache began to grow behind her eyes. Not all of her attacks were violent, but still painful.

The bus stopped, accepting two more passengers; and she was aware of a warm, wonderful feeling suddenly, like joy; amethyst eyes lifted, and she was stunned to see the girl from Ise. But surely this was the sun come down from the sky, the radiance she and her companion all but exuded, an older girl with golden hair in much the same bunny-ear style; Hotaru realized dimly that she was cupping her heart, to capture the sensation. It was so intense!

"Hotaru-chan!" the pink-haired child said happily, sounding just as surprised. And just as surprised were the several passengers rude enough to watch her and her blonde companion walk up the aisle, though some of those roving eyes lingered a bit too long. "Hotaru-chan, I can't believe it! You really do live in Tokyo?"

Hotaru didn't answer immediately; as Chibi-Usa came closer, she could feel that radiance creeping into her own bones, giving her something close to pleasure as it sank in. Her head no longer hurt, her aches and pains vanished, and she felt…she felt…content? Appeased. She was able to concentrate again on her new friend, who was looking at her with puzzlement. "In the Delta," she answered, smiling. "Papa and I were in Ise to escort a new student to Mugen Gakuen; it's an exclusive school, also in the Delta, that papa owns."

Usagi made a choking noise, her attempt to cover it up not quite a cough, or a sneeze. Hotaru eyed her oddly as Chibi-Usa replied, "Your papa owns a school? Hotaru-chan, you must be rich! Can we share your seat?"

The girl was an angel.

Hotaru was dumbstruck now; surely, this was a dream. Meeting the pink-haired child in Ise had been like a momentary gasp of air above the water, leaving her to quickly submerge again once they had left. How coincidental was it that Chibi-Usa lived in Tokyo, that she would run into her on a bus, and now, that she would still want to talk to her? Even share her seat? No one in Hotaru's memory had ever been so kind to her, save for her mother. Her papa was simply always too busy, Kaoli-kun an intruder, the children at school cruel and abusive.

"…hai," she finally whispered, sliding across the worn vinyl. Both girls were so slender and small that they fit with room to spare, which left Usagi, with her growing hips, partially off of the edge. She sulked, folding her arms, her shopping bags rustling and banging in an annoying staccato against her leg.

"Oh, yeah. That's Usagi." Chibi-Usa glowered at the odango-haired blonde, irritated at her childish attitude; both of them stuck out their tongues.

"Is she your sister? You look so much alike," Hotaru remarked, amethyst darting markedly between their heads, noting their similar hairstyles and facial features. Something like a shadow seemed to pass over both of their faces; to strangers they said they were cousins, since telling them they were mother and daughter was obviously out of the question. But many had also made mention of their faces, so alike as to be uncanny, and it was true; Usagi saw herself, not even five years ago, in Chibi-Usa's face.

"We're cousins," Usagi said finally, giving Hotaru a subtle once-over of her own. Though the girl could be an enemy, she seemed so forlorn and sad that Usagi's heart still went out to her. It did seem entirely possible that she could be innocent of her father's treachery, just a young girl wounded and never recovered. There was no reason at all she had to be mean or cruel to her. "I'm Tsukino Usagi. Chibi-Usa is visiting my family, and she needs lots of new friends to keep her company." She laughed, smiling, as Hotaru blinked. "You're Hotaru, ne? The pretty girl Chibi-Usa met in Ise. She was so sad, she thought she would never see you again."

The pink-haired child gaped at Usagi; she had assumed that everyone would be on guard against the enemy, even turning a cold shoulder towards Hotaru if they ever met her. This open acceptance was something of a surprise, though the kami knew it shouldn't have been. Neo Queen Serenity could be so heartfelt and unconditional as well, but a queen also had a bit of freedom in that respect, whereas a soldier did not.

She felt her nudge against her hip, and she turned back to smile at Hotaru. "Hai; I thought you lived somewhere so far away! I'm so glad you live here in Tokyo, we can be best friends now!"

"A-ano…" The raven-haired girl flushed, unsure of what to say.

Of course, tender moments are always broken by something completely different.

A girl in the very last row of seats screamed, drowned out just as suddenly by the obvious rip of vinyl. Everyone turned to stare back at what was a rather amazing sight; a daimon, rising fully formed, shucking its human body like a snakeskin. No longer was it attached and hobbled, but perfect, and hungry, its rows of teeth gleaming like knives before they buried deeply into the girl's chest.

The bus stopped so violently half of the passengers were thrown over the seats, tumbling into piles of painfully bent limbs. Hotaru had the breath knocked out of her as she slammed into the front seat, her stomach and torso taking the blow; Chibi-Usa, smaller than her, buried her face in her arms, but the sound of her forehead hitting the metal beneath the vinyl was loud. Usagi was flung into the aisle and half into the seat across, her brooch aglow like a star. Again, a loud noise; the daimon had found another victim.

People were screaming, stampeding out of the exit, running despite fractures and injuries, bodies dragged. Hotaru watched them run with a dim fascination; they were sheep. Soon enough, she too would be one of the perfect, able to scare them with a smile. Even now, she had no reason to be afraid, and she pulled herself upright to look around at the daimon.

Metabolizing souls had not yet been properly accomplished by the daimon, as they had not even been properly utilized yet, and while this one seemed to have reached the first step, the second was beyond its reach. She watched it worry this second victim with its teeth, its multiple appendages twitching, as it tried to draw out the soul, and succeeded only in giving the body mortal death.

The boy had not needed to die…what was she doing, taking pleasure in his pain? Horrified, she stared as the daimon reared up; smiling, she reached out a hand. Terrified, she snatched it back, realizing how close she had been to losing it; frowning, she crooked a finger, and the daimon turned towards her.

Chibi-Usa was conscious of a scream right in her ear, and she blinked away the stars and fog to sit up. Hotaru collapsed just as she stood, huddling on the vinyl seat with her arms wrapped around her head, soles kicking the metal frame of the bus. The daimon's roar followed in the wake of her scream dying into whimpering, its body landing on all its appendages shaking the entire vehicle. "Usagi! Usagi, wake up!"

"Mmaah, my head…nani!?" Unprepared, the odango-haired blonde rolled off the seat, landing hard on the floor. She gaped at the sight. "Daimon? Another one?"

"Moon Prism Power, Make Up!" Chibi-Usa cried, lifting her brooch high; it didn't matter to her at that moment if Hotaru witnessed her transformation. The pink energy lifted her, spun her in its hold, wrapped her up in her sailor soldier suit.

"Moon Cosmic Power! Make Up!" The sight of Usagi standing, translucent almost within her own energy, shifting in the span of seconds to Sailor Moon, was an awesome vision. Both of them smiled ruefully at each other; the pain of impact was gone, leaving them refreshed, and ready to do battle. A heady addiction indeed.

The daimon seemed to flinch in the wake of their power, maw opening wide for them to see down its gullet; gobbets of flesh clung to its teeth. "How terrible," Chibi-Usa whimpered, taking an unconscious step backward. However, seeing Hotaru still curled up tight on the seat, completely vulnerable, stayed her motion.

Sailor Moon reached out, grasping the heart moon rod in her hand as it simply appeared out of the air. "Hai; to punish such evil creatures…even they must have hearts that know what evil they inflict. The Death Busters are terrible people for causing such suffering!" She held up the weapon as the daimon roared, or made a noise approximating it, rearing up. But before her lips formed the first word, it dropped its large body back down, shaking the bus again, throwing both girls down.

And then it charged them.

Both of them screamed, performing a rapid backwards roll to their feet they never could have done in gym class when pressed, scrambling onto the closest seats. The daimon ripped down the aisle, missing them by inches as it lunged. Skidding, it slammed right into the dashboard with its jaws wide open, prepared to chomp down on a tender leg; instead, it closed on metal and live wires. They watched dumbly as it began to writhe, jerking its large body as electricity juiced through its limbs. Smoke and rancid smells began to waft towards them.

Unable to watch even a daimon electrocute itself, the odango-haired blonde raised her heart moon rod again, closing her eyes as she murmured, "Moon Spiral Heart Attack," feeling her arms jerk as the power spun out to obliterate the creature. Nothing remained; when she opened her eyes, only the snapped wires and teeth marks showed that it had even existed there. She lowered her arms, feeling so suddenly tired; how amazing was the power of the Ginzuishou that it could still destroy even these new enemies?

She turned to see Chibi-Usa shaking Hotaru, begging her to wake up; it was past her that Sailor Moon walked, stopping just at the edge of the carnage. A shed human skin looked not unlike a cartoon mask, something not quite real, and she was almost unsure that it was in fact real. But she couldn't bring herself to touch it – she felt sick at the very idea – and so she just stared at it, feeling disgust and loathing and a growing anger towards the Death Busters. Such dangerous, unforgiving enemies; would it even be safe, knowing that these creatures were fully formed where once they had been incomplete, for Minako and Alex to infiltrate?

Behind her, the pink-haired soldier was succeeding at her task, as Hotaru moaned, rolling on the vinyl. "Chibi…Chibi-U…"

"Sailor Moon, she's waking up! Hotaru-chan is waking up!"

"…Chibi…Moon…Sailor Moon?" Amethyst eyes rolled up, unfocused as they stared. Her hands reached up, gripping at the brooch and bow on Chibi-Usa's suit for leverage to pull herself upwards.

"Hai, Sailor Moon," the odango-haired blonde said softly, coming into view. "And perhaps, Chibi Moon as well."

"I am not Chibi!" the pink-haired soldier groused under her breath.

"We're glad you're all right, Hotaru-chan," Moon said, undaunted, smiling as Hotaru seemed to focus and recognize her surroundings. An unusual smile graced her lips as she pulled back, settling on the seat; abruptly, then, it vanished, drawing down as she said, "Chibi-Usa-chan? Usagi-san!"

"Everyone escaped, except for you," ‘Chibi' Moon answered quickly, "and you should be resting until the police arrive. Your papa will be very worried about you."

The police; ambulances and nurses and doctors! Hotaru surged up, suddenly frantic to escape. The fact that the mysterious soldier had correctly pegged her as being motherless was missed entirely in her fear. "Iie, I can't! I have to get home, I have to tell papa I've been hurt! My head…" She pushed Chibi Moon away sharply, a dark scowl crossing her face as she ran down the aisle. Her body jerked; for a moment, she had to all but throw herself forward to escape.

"Hotaru-chan!"

Oh, Kami-sama, would the pain never leave her? Even as she exited the ruined bus, aware of the two soldiers following her, the migraine surged, and she felt anger. The light of their power had been so remarkable, and yet she ran away! Cowardly! But she had to escape before she was caught, before the ambulances arrived, and she ran full tilt into a nearby pet store, ducking behind the racks of glass aquariums to cower and writhe. The pain was splitting her forehead apart, growing worse as she thought – iie, she knew – that the two soldiers and their beautiful light were moving further away.

Sometimes, she didn't believe her father was joking.

Sometimes, she wondered if she herself wasn't hiding another person inside.










Smoothing down the fullness of her hair, Michiru wondered if finally their mission would end. Surely tonight, they would have answers.

It had been a week since Hanyu-san had died, and their scheduled concert had been hastily re-organized as a solo event at Infinity's own Commemorative Dome, touted more than ever as a fundraising social event. After the attack and mutilation of another Infinity student on the crowded city bus – as well as the skinning of a second, of which a body had not been found – the school seemed desperate to alleviate the fears of their parents. There was no reason to leave; the school was still prestigious and accepting applications, and the students hurt and killed so far could be counted on two hands. Barely a drop in the pond. And wasn't the academy doing its best to pay the families back for their suffering?

Michiru felt nauseated. She was about to go out and perform musical acrobatics so their enemy could keep up pretense, harvesting souls and bodies without a hitch. But what could she do to unveil their plans? Go on stage, take the microphone, and describe the Death Busters and their familiars? She would be laughed into the insane asylum.

Leaving the dressing room, she wandered onto the curtained stage where the accompanying orchestra – all graduate students, and thankfully talented – was fine-tuning their instruments. Many of them bowed in respect, though she could see more than a little disgust and anger in their eyes; she, a first-year high school student had achieved what they still dreamed of. But she was used to their attitude, and merely bowed in return as though she had no idea of their hatred.

A white-gloved finger parted the curtains in the middle, thick folds of velvet and damask unfurling so she could see the thickening crowd. Though it was a fundraising event, and outside had the atmosphere of a small carnival with booths set up to sell all matter of baked goods, the people taking their seats wore nothing but their finest European. Suits, ties, evening gowns, and expensive jewels were everywhere, even on the youngest child. And what they had paid for the pleasure to see Kaiou Michiru in concert demanded it.

Of course, the group she was looking for wore not exactly expensive finery, but what looked to be their best; even the blue-haired genius Michiru recognized as Mizuno Ami wore something tasteful but hardly Hollywood set. Though her mother could afford affluent clothing, Ami had picked out her soft blue dress herself, and disliked useless spending.

The other girls wore pretty dresses as well, with the dark-haired shrine girl finding a second occasion for her white birthday dress, though she had removed the somewhat gaudy flower decoration. All of them seemed excited about the concert, except for the dark-haired prince; she smiled; he seemed thoughtful, unsure of what the night would bring. Watching them find their seats, she noted that the image of their queen was going back to the lobby, all alone; she waved away what were presumably offers to go with her.

Outside the doors, the tall sandy-blonde stood at ease, watching the crowds mill around before the performance. He had already done his courtly duty and wished his lover well, knowing she would make it a memorable evening as always. Now, he waited, flirting with every young pretty thing that crossed his path, noting the time by the ornate clock over the doors. That is, until he saw Usagi emerge into the lobby, a lovely vision in pale pink and white, her shoulders scandalously bare. Everything receded in his sight as he watched her walk through the crowd, heading for the outside booths.

Truthfully, though food and erstwhile snacking was her ultimate goal, Usagi's mind was as far away from Tokyo as it could be. She walked right past Haruka, even though he had carefully paced right over to the front doors to put himself within sight, a careful frown on her face as she considered what her prince had told her. Because he had avoided the ax the day he had been given the tickets, she had casually asked him who his friends were who had given him so many before they left his apartment; and his pause, his obvious consideration, put her ill at ease immediately. "Kaiou-san," he said finally. "I spoke to her outside at the Crown, that day that Ten'ou-san was inside racing Minako. And we met again on the bus before I came to the Parlor, when she gave me the tickets."

She had felt jealousy first, though she mentally chastised herself for even considering his roving eye; after all, they were destined. So what if he had spoken to such a beautiful girl, accepting such gifts? He was her prince. He was being a gentleman.

But then she really thought about what their destiny had done to them, bringing them together without so much as a by your leave, really, giving her – a hopeless romantic with more dreams than reality – almost more than she bargained for. And though she did love her Mamo-chan for his entire studious manner, his cute habits, and mature sensibilities, she had almost hated him enough to push him in front of a bus before he revealed himself to be her mysterious phantom. She had crushed hard on a masked rescuer before she had even considered the possibility of romance with Chiba Mamoru.

Had she loved the dream more than the man? Was that her worry? After all, they had been given so little time together before their past lives had dictated their star-crossed love be given a second chance without even bothering to ask Mamoru and Usagi what they thought. And sure, it had been wonderful afterwards, after defeating Metallia and being awakened by a prince's kiss, to be held in his arms and be told he loved her. And the future, where their love was true and stronger than ever, was a marvelous fortune.

But for the love of the kami, she was a clumsy, hardly intelligent teenage girl who pigged out far too much and wasted her allowance on junk and couldn't cook or clean or even read a novel without feeling sleepy. And her prince, her handsome eternal love, was a self-sufficient boy on the cusp of manhood, about to enter college, smart as a whip, efficient and mature. What kind of wife would she even make for him? Saving the world in a short skirt, while her husband cooked and cleaned in an apron? Fighting evil with her newest weapon as her husband worked a steady job to pay for their house or apartment? And she didn't even want to imagine how their future as king and queen would begin. No doubt she was given a brain operation and a dose of intelligence before then.

And here was a beautiful, talented girl, this Kaiou Michiru, who no doubt possessed the maturity and intelligence to match wits with Mamoru any time she chose. Minako had deluged the table with information on Ten'ou Haruka's girlfriend – though the popular media also admitted that neither of them had even firmly stated their relationship in such terms, preferring to remain rather mysterious about it – and there seemed to be nothing Kaiou-san couldn't do. Usagi couldn't hope to compete with that. And while Mamoru said he loved her, even though Kaiou-san was as firmly attached to Ten'ou Haruka as a true lover, the odango-haired blonde couldn't help but feel inadequate and concerned. Even though Ten'ou Haruka was hardly a man to let go…

"Ah, odango-chan, we meet again."

"…ne?" Crystal blue lifted as she saw the shadow blocking her path; up, and the shadow turned into a Mugen Gakuen suit of burgundy and green plaid, and a devil's smiling face; Ten'ou Haruka. "Ten'ou-san! Gomen nasai, I didn't see you!" She bowed properly, so low in an act of forgiveness that she teetered on her feet. "That is your name? Ten'ou Haruka? The famous racer?"

"The unforgettable." He gave her a smart European bow, arm across his waist, and smiled at the pink staining her cheeks. "And I must have your name, unless, of course, you prefer odango-chan? Or perhaps koneko, for you are just as adorable."

"A-ano, I'm not so adorable!" she laughed, tugging at a ponytail. "I'm Tsukino Usagi. I'm so surprised you remember me, Ten'ou-san; after all, we've met only once!"

Would it be too much for him to tell her that he practically dreamed of her every night? The image of their queen, or their princess, with her innocence and smiling face. Aware that he was staring a bit too long for propriety, he said, "How could I forget such a hairstyle? Not many girls wear odango on their head, instead of properly eating them."

Not these jokes again. She pinked even further, shuffling on her feet; she wanted to move on, to buy her snacks, but was not rude enough to simply walk away. Surprisingly, the tall sandy-blonde moved for her, walking towards the booths, obviously meaning for her to follow. His longer legs moved at a quicker pace than hers, and she was forced to practically jog to keep up. "Why, Ten'ou-san, are you outside, may I ask?" she huffed, lifting up her skirts a bit.

Noticing her problem, Haruka slowed down, attempting to match her pace. "Why am I not inside with my lover, is that what you mean, Tsukino-san?"

"I didn't mean…not in such a way…."

"No, you would never be so bold, nor so rude. Innocent, really. You're a true innocent," he murmured, storm grey drifting away. "She is my lover, Michiru, but we have a free relationship in regards to our restrictions. I've given her luck and best wishes, and now, I'm simply standing outside to watch the crowd and perhaps find myself a pretty girl to console myself with." He leaned closer, near enough to kiss her face. "Tsukino-san, you walk with a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"You would never do such a thing!" Usagi said admonishingly, though she seemed frozen momentarily in the gaze of his eyes. "If you love Kaiou-san, you would never be so bold."

Haruka smiled, though it was darkened by the shadow of his hair as he all but kissed her mouth, her head turned just so. "I'm the wind, Tsukino-san. Nothing binds me but the sky."

They stood on the path in such a manner for what seemed like hours, separated by a hair's breadth between them; crystal blue had widened, soulful, almost daring Haruka to cleave to her simply by her innocent assurance he would not. He lifted his hand instead, cupping the baby softness of her cheek, amazed as such a simple touch set his nerve endings to tingling. By the look in her eyes, Usagi felt it as well; and though it was intense and new, it reminded her of the warm comfort of her prince's arms, shielding her against the Arctic winds. Mamoru…

She stepped back sharply, gathering up her skirts and fleeing back down the path, forgetting her snacks. Haruka watched her go, a range of emotions warring on his face; plainly, whatever he felt in the strange madness of passion for the girl, she felt some of as well. Or perhaps she was just so fresh and virginal she would have felt it for any man. He clenched his fist, savoring her lingering warmth, and looked at his watch for the time. The concert had begun fifteen minutes ago, his lover no doubt launching into her first solo.

At the thought of Michiru, he felt slightly ashamed – they both knew they were free, tethered only by their mission, but he knew that he was doubly chained by his need for acceptance of his dual nature. No one else would be as understanding as she, even, he assumed, his transitory queen. Even if she was as beautiful as a goddess.

He hustled around the building, looking around intently for any stragglers copping a quick smoke – the Dome was smoke-free – or simply bumming around. With the coast clear, he pulled open his coat, pulling out the antique hand mirror and wiping a fingerprint from its silvered glass surface. He wasn't entirely sure he could even use it; it wasn't the talisman of Uranus, but Neptune. But she had explained that there seemed to be no reason at all for any soldier not to be able to focus their thoughts through it. It was a passive instrument for the most part, a scrying mirror to predict future calamities and to sense their enemies.

Like now.

Holding it in both hands like a baseball bat, Haruka demanded, "Deep Aqua Mirror! Take me to the woman I seek!"

The glass rippled, forming the face of the tall red-head, distractedly staring off into space. Though the mirror couldn't show it, she was actually in the process of tuning a guitar, her step-father's old acoustic, though she had stopped to watch CNN. She'd hated America for its predictable greed, two-faced lying, and all-around bullshit, but she'd been born there, lived much of her first life near New York, and was unfortunately pigeonholed into admitting it. So despite herself, she took interest in what happened in the country, though today seemed thankfully quiet of any major trauma.

She thumbed the remote, allowing the screen to go blank. Giving the guitar one last strum, she set it aside on the couch; then she stared curiously at the TV, which, being something of a distorted reflective surface, was now showing her something out of place. A person, accurately, who wore a sailor suit of royal blue, and slouching boots of the same hue, arms folded aggressively across her chest. "Uranus…?"

"Wrong answer." The tall red-head turned, only to bend nearly double as the wind slammed into her, throwing her backwards into a hasty tumble over the glass coffee table and back onto her feet. "Please, allow me to give you the correct question," the blue-suited soldier snapped, striding across the carpet.









Only blocks away, Michiru poured her soul into her music, ripping her bow across the strings in a controlled tempest of sound, the audience nearly swooning, crying with emotion. The odango-haired blonde, she could see, was indeed quietly sobbing, though she was racked with genuine anguish and needed no real trigger. No doubt Haruka had intercepted her, and, if she knew her lover and his sometimes forcefully charismatic ways, had sent her into that spiral.

Haruka…no doubt he was now interrogating the foreigner, gaining the answers they required. They took no pleasure in the need for violence, but sometimes, it was necessary; and they had no room for treachery. If the woman knew their identities, she was a risk, which was why they had planned this all ahead of time. She seemed to be allied with the other sailor soldiers, but not a soldier herself, and even so, they were so naïve and thoughtless they would no doubt leap to defend her. The time to strike had been now, with them all safely far away, entranced by her music.

She plunged her bow up into the last chords, relishing the echo as they lingered in the air even after she lowered her arms. The audience applauded with passion nearly a full minute after she'd finished, still stunned by her performance, and knowing they had yet more to look forward to after the intermission. It had not been a very long first half, but the school had scheduled this with her as a sort of…tempting morsel, as the director had explained, driving the people who had already paid exorbitant amounts to see her outside, hungry and impassioned. Then they would buy sweets and all manner of food from the vendors, who were students themselves; essentially, donating more money.

Whatever the means, it gave her a refreshing fifteen minutes of relaxation, and she hurried to her dressing room to set her violin in its case. Primping quickly, fluffing her drooping waves, and dotting the sweat from her upper lip and brow, she exited down towards the lobby, though she was deluged almost immediately by classmates and gentleman fans. A great many of the students of Infinity were planning musical careers, and those who dreamed of conducting an orchestra someday came up to her regularly in the hallways to beg her to work with them. She always brushed them off as gently as possible, though this time, she was virtually surrounded.

So many autograph boards were thrust at her that she lost count. The school had wanted her to charge a fee for signing anything, giving a portion to them of course, but she flatly refused. Why in the world would she charge them more money when they'd already paid to see her in the first place? Besides, knowing that she had such fans was wonderful; they deserved recognition. Some of them took it a bit too personally – one man had taken out a full-page article in the national papers proclaiming their upcoming marriage – but for the most part, they were simply ecstatic to have her signature.

She chuckled at the memory of that particular man as she wrote on an elementary student's Hello Kitty board; Haruka had sought him out and personally cold-cocked him in his 23rd floor office building – he'd been a prominent lawyer – because of ‘principal.' That had been in the early days of their relationship, and his actions had started the rumours of their true love. A day later, an American tabloid had trumpeted her pregnancy and his upcoming fatherhood. She'd laughed herself sick.

As the crowd finally began to thin, allowing her to walk again, she spotted the prominent blonde odango near the front doors, along with those of her friends. But as she got closer, she saw another person she recognized, talking to Mizuno Ami; and she scowled. It was no surprise to her that the school would entice the ‘Genius Girl' of Tokyo, but that they hadn't attempted sooner. Of course, the country was full of intelligent, bright, easily malleable children. A reputed genius was like a raindrop in the ocean.

"…it truly is ideal, Mizuno-san. As a genius girl, surely you can appreciate such an advanced, unique curriculum, specific to the needs of the intelligent." The girl pressed closer to Ami, smiling coldly, though it was obvious she meant it to be entirely inviting. "Our prep school can give you a sample of our excellence."

Around them, the other girls looked wary, which Michiru found surprising. Obviously, they had surmised that Infinity was indeed the threat, and to treat the students and faculty with kid gloves; there was no other reason for the long-haired blonde to look suspicious, or the dark-haired shrine girl to be staring daggers. Very interesting indeed. Even Mamoru, standing close with his princess and their daughter, seemed on edge. Yet he had accepted her gift, not knowing if she were an enemy as well.

Inwardly laughing, she came close enough to speak comfortably, and said, "Bidou Yui-san, what a surprise!" thoroughly startling the girl, and the others. Yui, a sweet-faced girl with long hair the colour of the winter sky, was just as cold in demeanor, and nothing could thaw it. They disliked one another intensely, though Yui took it as a personal problem stemming from a class experiment; Michiru wanted to kill her badly, because a single Death Buster left breathing was a threat. So perhaps it was personal for her as well. "But isn't the science convention tonight as well? I thought for sure your model of the star system was entered."

Twist the knife a little deeper; she smiled pleasantly as Yui seethed. The creation of the model had encountered several problems, not the least of which was the fact that it was not a recorded system at all, and the teacher – who miraculously was not a Death Buster – had argued that it was not a legitimate experiment. When he had gone missing, not even a daimon could be blamed. "Kaiou Michiru-san. Yes, it was. Tonight."

Not an excellent answer, and rather vague; Michiru's eyes narrowed slightly, giving Yui a once-over; the ice-haired student was dressed in her school uniform, perhaps to work a booth. In contrast, the aqua-haired beauty wore a sea green sheathe to match her hair, and full-length white gloves to accent, a picture of elegance. Was something planned for tonight? Most of the attendees were not even students or parents, but civilians. The daimon had been implanted in the unfortunates chosen, but they had all attended the school proper; was it something else? Perhaps an experiment to test a new creature? "Mm. Well, Bidou-san, why are you here instead of with your…creation? Surely it can't be to watch me play."

"To work at the information booth," Yui said flatly, which answered why she was trying to entice Ami; no doubt she'd been given a wad of pamphlets to give away. "The staff is slightly short at the moment, with Hanyu-san's…dismissal."

The aqua-haired beauty watched with interest as the group visibly seemed shocked to hear the name of the recently departed witch. Perhaps they had not even known her name, but it was actually a bit unnerving to hear an enemy's name mentioned in what was everyday life; it gave them personality, a void to fill, instead of thinking them as vanquished nothings. "Ah, a shame; her class has been postponed until another teacher is hired," Michiru sighed, putting the appropriate amount of sadness into her voice.

"Indeed. Another time." Yui's cold dismissal hung in the air long after she'd walked away, though she looked back once to shoot Michiru a glare of utter loathing. Smiling back sweetly, the aqua-haired beauty blew a kiss, and turned away.

"Gomen nasai; the intrusion seemed necessary. Once Bidou-san begins to speak, all else fades in comparison, like a slow freeze in the middle of winter," she explained, bowing properly. The girls paused a beat; then, they seemed to get the joke, and giggled, though Usagi hesitated to show her appreciation. She was staring at Michiru as though she was an exotic creature, amazed someone could be so proper and elegant. On impulse, she grabbed her prince's hand and squeezed tight.

"Ara ara, Kaiou-san, we should thank you! She seemed ready to talk all night!" Makoto replied blithely, and Michiru was slightly startled as she turned towards her properly; kami-sama, the girl was tall, nearly Haruka's height. "And your performance was wonderful; you play beautifully!"

"Hai, Kaiou-san, you're a marvelous musician," Rei agreed, sighing. "Classical music performed with devotion. I have one of your live albums, your show in Vienna."

Michiru smiled, touched; though these girls were perhaps just as dangerous to the mission as any idiot civilian, the fact that one of them was a fan warmed her heart. "Arigatou gozaimasu; it happens to be one of my favourites."

Someone called her name across the lobby; turning, she could see one of the attendants waving his hand at her, pointing at his watch. The intermission was nearly over, and she had to be prepared to begin before everyone re-seated. Sighing, she turned back, and bowed again, smiling as she stood up. "My fans await. Please, enjoy the rest of the performance. Perhaps I'll be able to discuss with you again afterward."

They parted ways, and as she walked back to open the ‘Private: Employees Only' door, she noted Yui disappearing into the control booth. So the enemy truly was planning something insidious; on this, of all nights, when her partner was already engaged. It would be Sailor Neptune alone tonight, and she would have to move quickly to make sure the children didn't interfere.

If only they could have met under pleasant circumstances, they could be friends. It would have made this so much easier.











Prepared for a fight, Uranus gathered power to her hand as she stepped forward, remembering how bravely the foreigner had taken on Mimete. It would be disastrous to even release the energy as it stood, accumulated to the strength of perhaps a small bomb; but killing the woman would be just as effective at keeping their mission secret as interrogation and intimidation. Not entirely a humane thought, but she of all people understood what dangers could lurk beneath the easy guise of a human.

But, Alex remained crouched near the television, seemingly in no undue alarm. Her relaxed pose and sleepy, calm stare reminded Uranus of a housecat her neighbors had owned, nearly a decade before. It was the look of a predator that knew it ruled supreme, and didn't have to rush to get what it wanted out of life. The damn thing had been pampered and spoiled, and merely had to wag a paw to be the center of attention, but she'd seen it stalk mice. No amount of fat and leisure had destroyed its instinct; it waited like the Sphinx, letting the poor things creep so close it could smell their cheese breath, and then snapped.

Remembering those sharp teeth made Uranus pause, considering her options. Though she was a sailor soldier, possessing the power of a planet, it was never good to become cocky. And the woman had managed to stop Mimete, where they had entirely failed; indeed, she had saved their lives, and the mission. That in itself could have been a perfectly orchestrated trap, luring them into trust and relaxation.

The slow, deliberate movement of the tall red-head had Uranus tensing, arm pulling back in preparation to strike. But all she looked to be accomplishing was standing straight, reminding Uranus that the woman was in fact nearly half a foot taller than her. "I wouldn't do anything silly, gaijin," she said coolly, lifting her hand to prove her point. "In fact, all you have to do is answer my question."

"Only if you answer mine first," Alex demurred, and the tall sandy-blonde, lips parted to respond strongly in the negative, paused. A slight dip appeared between her eyebrows as Alex continued, "because too much useless chatter gets us nowhere, right? Just talk, and talk, and most broken furniture, such a shame, really, cost me a bit."

Stepping closer and closer as she talked, hands held up in a gesture of peace, she merely smiled serenely. Uranus, strangely, made no move to stop her, or even to order her to do so; she simply stood, her posture slowly slacking, the power dissipating from her hand. "And I know you girl are more action than talk, far too assured of yourselves and your powers. Always ready to make with the magic and whip the lesser into submission for the good of the solar system, neh?" By now, close enough to embrace, her words died on the air as she watched Uranus slowly lean forward, as if desperate to hear her talk some more. She cupped the tall sandy-blonde's cheek, tilting her head up gently to look into her eyes. "Ah, chere, you don't understand it at all, do you?" Alex murmured. "I'm not the enemy. And I could be your friend."

Releasing her cheek, she took some steps back and waited, watched, as the knowledge flooded those stormy eyes of what had happened, and Uranus shuddered. "M-masaka…how did you do that? I couldn't…I couldn't look away…." She shook, unsure of herself for the first time since she'd felt the magic change her, give her the truest confidence in her body. The enemy thus far, save for the nearly-fatal encounter with Mimete, had never entranced her so thoroughly, nor even spoken to her; not a danger at all, merely a vicious animal. Not a thinking, creative, canny human that even her power as Sailor Uranus fell victim to.

"It's nice to know I haven't totally lost my touch." Alex smiled wryly, leaning back to rest her thighs against the top of the couch, reaching up to pull a strand of copper out of her eyes. "Makes a girl feel useful."

"Lost your touch…? You can do more than charm a person into submission? Then you had better be a friend, as you claim to be," Uranus said angrily, tightening her fists. "I still have no reason to trust you, after all."

"Well, yes. I could, if I wanted to, destroy you several different ways before you took a step. But I merely have more training in my powers than you; if you learned to focus yourself, and take those successive steps, you'd give me a horrible time. Maybe." The tall red-head shrugged infuriatingly, resting her chin on her fisted hand, elbow secure atop her folded arm. "I can train you. You've barely even tapped into your potential as a sailor soldier."

Uranus frowned, glancing rather pointedly at Alex's comfortable attire, then down at her own soldier's uniform. "I hardly think a normal human could train a sailor soldier," she said finally, turning her head away. "As it is, you're most likely a liability to those young girls."

"Mm, yes. Of course."

"And those girls are themselves a problem! They have no idea how to properly fight the Death Busters or their daimon creations, no concept of the risks such a mission entails! That is why it is our mission solely, to destroy the invaders." Uranus slapped fist to hand, closing her eyes for a brief second to recall the horrific sight of the younger classman's arm being violently torn from her body. They couldn't begin to understand what it meant to risk such innocent blood in the face of the enemy.

She turned around to face the tall red-head, who was staring at her with an odd expression of nonchalance, one eyebrow raised on high. "Of course. Because Neptune and Uranus operated alone, the sole line of defense against outside invaders who would attempt to destroy the Silver Millennium. And duly protected from inside attack by jealous kingdoms by rumours of your destruction."

The tall sandy-blonde paled. To hear the kingdom of her dreams given a name, to hear it described in such a manner by a stranger; there was no mistaking now that the woman told the truth. Impulsively, she whispered, "Iie. Not rumours. Truth. But still, we survived, braving our solitary worlds alone, and then, when our planets grew too turbulent, watching it all through the windows of our lonely castles." Like a sudden recollection of a colour or a shape, came the images of that life. But it was scattered, like the pages of a story ripped into pieces and thrown into the wind. Had she been mad, alone in that place?

"Not surprising; Serenity would never tell me the truth. I believed she might not have known herself what had happened to Uranus and Neptune's soldiers, but proof of no invasions, no external enemies; well. Why bother telling anyone you two lived?" Alex replied, sounding bitter.

"Serenity! Was she…. was she the queen? Silver hair, like the beams of the moon, and lovely eyes to match…a regal presence."

"Queen Serenity, yes. With silver hair and eyes, yes. And so very beautiful, no matter what the time of the day…" The tall red-head stared off as her voice trailed, though they drifted right back to Uranus. "You remember her?" She stressed ‘remember' strongly.

Frowning, Uranus shook her head slowly after a long minute. "Iie. I don't remember her from that life. But she came to us in our dreams, telling us the sacred words. That was how we became the sailor soldiers again, on our holy mission."

Now, Alex was the one frowning. "You don't remember her from that life…? But if you were reincarnated, how the hell did you come forward in such a way? You weren't on the Moon that last day, I didn't bring your souls with me. This shouldn't have happened."

"What do you mean, being on the Moon—" Uranus started tersely, only to pause, somewhat fascinated, as a watch fob hanging from the tall red-head's belt began to beep frantically. She glanced carelessly over to where she'd seen a clock sitting atop a speaker; it wasn't ringing in a new hour, but something else. "You have such communication devices?" she asked carefully.

"Of course. Not everyone can be a multi-talented psionic." Alex didn't even bother to check the watch, knowing where the girls had gone. She simply looked across to Uranus, jerking her head towards the stairs. "Well? Going my way, chere? Or would you prefer to sit this one out?"






The beautiful music had gone on forever, though it had a dreamy, insubstantial quality to it. Like a solo violinist, and she, the only witness, it had been for her ears alone, a sad melody that simultaneously rushed the blood to her temples, quickened her pulse; but of course, she'd then opened her eyes. "Setsuna," she muttered at the ceiling, "you always spoil the climax."

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