Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Past Lives ❯ Daughters ( Chapter 7 )

Past Lives - By Kirika

 

******

 

The seventh chapter.

 

- Kirika

 

******

 

Chapter 7 - Daughters

 

 

Avishul flowed through the darkness; lightly, silently. Many would liken it to how a fish swims through an ocean--they would learn the difference with blades and blood. Avishul was a living, breathing branch of the dark. She was everywhere a shadow was thrown and nowhere. To everyone else in this pit she wasn't here. Never seen, never heard--for so long now that no other youma remembered her. No other youma but those Avishul wanted to remember. It was a parallel to death; the same as being on the other side, a spectre looking in. Indeed, what other death could be as complete as to be forgotten? This pit, this dank and decrepit Chamista called a camp; it was Avishul's and her order's true home, not these other youma squatters. The youma may have lurked in the shadows, knew that they could be the fear behind them that haunted lesser beings' imaginations, but they did not fully understand. They did not fully embrace it. There was fear... and then there was *terror*.

 

Avishul tiptoed along rusted, sagging pipes, darted across broken, irregular bits of brickwork of former human splendour reduced to rumble. The walls, the ceiling, the ground; wherever the swiftest, quietest route was, Avishul unerringly visualised it. Where there was nothing left to climb; a smooth wall, a bare ceiling; she found a way--barbs on her thick skin lodging into masonry, carving handholds and footholds tailored to her. Others of Avishul's order relied too much on the gift, on shadow diving, that they neglected these basics. Once blessed they forgot what they had learned to earn it, diminishing themselves. Avishul didn't need the gift to be one with the dark. But that she had its blessing regardless raised her above her peers. None could use shadow diving as she could.

 

The assassin flowed past gorging youma before crude fires tearing into the night's rations as those rations screamed and whimpered. Avishul had already eaten; her meal snatched with her own two hands, slain to be silent with her own blades. She took pleasure in the pained cries of a worthy adversary, not her food. Perhaps the humans she captured considered her to be merciful before their butchering, if their minds managed to fathom what was happening before the youma's knives bit.

 

Moisture shook loose from above, together with hunks of cement, as the underground pit rumbled, jolting everything for as long as the thunder lasted. Avishul flowed still, evading drips and stone alike, her footing never in question despite the tremors. Even skirting this close to the campfires, the flames' light did not lick her in the slightest. She simply knew where to move, how to move, her sinewy body seeming to possess independent thought. However it was the third eye on Avishul's forehead, peeking through the dyed-black cloth wrappings of her specialised cult, which saw the way. The eye was larger than her two others below, deep red and crisscrossed with pulsating veins, circled with thick lashes. Whenever opened it always seemed to be staring--*glaring*--intense in its scrutiny. There was nothing it missed. Places, people, secrets, lies, flesh and arteries; it knew where to look, where Avishul should strike.

 

This night it focused on Shuthiru winding through the camp. The mage was none-the-wiser to her voyeur, to her stalker, too intent on keeping to herself that she was unaware of her shadow. None, maybe not even the mad ilk of the demon Lord Khairephon, would dare torment her, not with her sharing Chamista's ear and being of the same youma clan and species. Yet Shuthiru hunched and cringed, watching everywhere but where it mattered. But how does one see a shadow in the dark?

 

To the centre of the camp Shuthiru walked, where the garden grew. It had matured into a colossal phenomenon, taking up a good part of the pit that youma were more and more forced to reside in the fringes of the subterranean chamber, lest they rest in the garden itself. Bad magic. Avishul could sense it, could feel it. The garden was not of her dimension, not of this one either she suspected. Chamista's pet had brought its traces with him through the portal they had discovered; a mistake Avishul feared. What she had felt then she felt now but a thousand times over. Some places were sealed for good reason. Places not even the darkness touched.

 

Chamista could be found here--where she could always be found. The garden had enthralled the would-be commander. But why not. It *was* enthralling. The crystals were a beauty Avishul had not laid eyes on before. Their black-purple, polished shadow.... Truly it had to be another living entity of the dark. Bad magic, yet kin to Avishul and her assassins. And without a doubt just as dangerous.

 

Nevertheless, Avishul ventured close as Shuthiru did, though favoured the ground over perching atop the dark crystals. She dared not touch them. Even in the profound dark the crystals reflected her image, an unnerving mockery of her abilities.

 

Chamista had no such sense. She was there, in the garden as predicted, petting a monolithic crystal that erupted from the ground at an oblique angle, looming over her head. Her tail waved back and forth in hypnotic rhythm as she stroked and presumably studied, as if mimicking its owner's mind. Mages and their magic. No weapon compared to the blade. Strong, reliable. Did as it was told.

 

Avishul watched her `leader'. If Chamista believed she led Avishul and her brothers and sisters she was a bigger fool than first decided. *Avishul* ran the Silent Blades in this dimension. It had been the demon Lord Makareus that had invoked her order, and he was dead. The contract was void. Avishul and her assassins owed Chamista none of their respect, none of their loyalty, none of their skill; throwing their lot in with the mage was simply a matter of course. The way home was with Chamista... if such a feat was truly within her power... *and* if this curious but ultimately irrelevant crystalline diversion of hers didn't see her forever strand every youma here on this too-bright planet.

 

Shuthiru shuffled up to her mistress like the subjugated weakling she was, seeming hesitant to engage the other mage in discussion. Assassination was all about patience, however. Avishul did not weary before the otherwise irritating spectacle, sticking to the dark.

 

“Our numbers aren't what they should be,” Shuthiru eventually spoke to Chamista's back.

 

“Hmm?” the other mage murmured absently, smiling slightly at her mirrored self in the smooth murky monolith.

 

“They have... fallen. We... found another camp, a short distance from this one,” Shuthiru explained, warily eyeing the crystal tower Chamista showed such affection for. Some smarts in this little mage. “I believe a certain number among us were keeping rations for themselves.”

 

“Stealing?!” Chamista snarled, spinning around with sudden fury. It shocked Shuthiru, frightening the other mage enough to emit a gasp and step back. “How...?! How *dare* they! *Every*one gets enough! They have taken from the garden! How will the flowers bloom?! How?! Bring these traitors to me! They will repay their theft on their *knees* before me!” Her tail thrashed like a snatched serpent, though her hand remained on the crystal.

 

“As I... as I said, they are gone. Vanished into the tunnels.”

 

“Deserted?! Then they are *right* to fear! Find them! Use any means! They will know my wrath when it rains--!”

 

“They are dead,” Avishul said, a disembodied voice from nowhere.

 

“Who...?!” Chamista snapped, looking with an ineffectual gaze around the gem spires before realisation calmed the wild orbs. “Avishul.”

 

The assassin offered no explanation. She owed Chamista none. Either the mage believed her or she didn't. If she was truly wise, she would. Being a knife in the dark often meant being a spy, and the Silent Blades served in that capacity just as expertly. Avishul had been informed of the greedy youmas' side activities many nights ago by her comrades and had been keeping the plucky if sloppy gang in her shadow ever since. In a camp of this size it paid to know everything that was going on, especially while deep in hostile lands. Too greedy, the youma had grown. Too greedy by far.

 

“The Sailor Senshi.”

 

The human. He too loitered in the crystal maze, whenever he was actually present in the underground. Avishul kept a record of his comings and goings and activities also. The human named Jadeite was still an enigma, a seeming willing pet to Chamista. But he disappeared as he pleased, apparently under the guise of performing his youma mistress's wishes; her thirst for more power, the purported `Ginzuishou'. Jadeite's method of teleportation rivalled that of the Silent Blades; thus far none of the assassins, even Avishul, had been able to track his outside movements--there was nothing to track but empty air. He would always come back, however... until the time he didn't. Avishul suspected that for as long as Jadeite desired to be here in the company of youma and darkness he wouldn't pose a problem. Afterwards.... Avishul did not underestimate him. She had been taught firsthand what humans were capable of.

 

“The Sailor Senshi have struck,” Jadeite continued, lounging on an array of muddled crystal growths jutting every which way. He sat there, chin resting on a fist and legs crossed, as if it were his throne and the gemstone garden his realm. King in all but name. Avishul's third eye wondered who really held the leash, Chamista or Jadeite.

 

The Sailor Senshi. Avishul's spies had reported them too. They and their male cohort had clashed with the entrepreneurial youma offshoot, emerging victorious while not sustaining a single casualty themselves. A small quantity of youma escaped as some typically did in any large conflict--mostly the clever cowards before the fighting became too thick--yet it was still a huge disparity in losses. It was not unexpected. The Silent Blades, including a grandmaster assassin, had engaged the Sailor Senshi before, the final culmination fought in a lofty human structure of steel and glass seized by their demon client. Now only Avishul and a small contingent were left to dance in the dark. Theirs were a mix of talent and skills, not all the greatest killers of their cult but *survivors*. Clever cowards they were not. Avishul and the other fortunates had endured where dozens had succumbed to death and rot.

 

The Sailor Senshi were worthy adversaries. Killing even one would be an accomplishment to flaunt and remember.

 

“Again they pester!” Chamista snarled, her tail slapping viciously against the ground, kicking up dust and the crackle of stones. “What excuses have you this time, Jadeite? What grand token to make up for the fangs and claws that should be at my disposal this very second?!” She overlooked that they were fangs and claws of betrayers. Maybe the mage had meant the remark in a different manner--the crystal monolith glowed ethereally behind Chamista, as if seething in unison at the loss of what should have belonged to it and its hunger. “*You* said you would deal with them! *You* said they would have `other concerns'! It is only through sheer chance they have not stumbled upon this camp!”

 

Jadeite held his tongue for several long moments, Chamista fuming as the silence prolonged, gradually baring more and more of her teeth. Then, at the point it seemed the youma would tolerate no more, he spoke. “No excuses. No tokens.” The human talked into his clenched fist supporting his head, eyes boring into Chamista above the tight knuckles. “You failed to control your underlings. You brought the attention on yourself.”

 

“You forget your--!” Chamista began in a low hiss.

 

“It doesn't matter,” Jadeite continued quickly over the youma. “The Sailor Senshi are still in the dark. Still believing in their charmed lives. If anything, this `triumph' of theirs makes it all the more perfect.” He smiled behind his fist; a sinister thing, more sneer than grin. “No tokens, my Mistress,” the blonde said, skirting very near to mocking. “Just my vow to you and to myself. Just the old memories....” Jadeite outstretched his other hand, and above it, floating over the open palm, a smaller version of one of the murky crystals he sat upon slowly revolved. A solitary prism, narrowed to points on either end, possessing several faces.

 

He stared at it. Avishul, Chamista, and Shuthiru stared at it. Somehow it was impossible not to be captivated.

 

“They think they know what's coming,” Jadeite whispered, for once solemn rather than his usual arrogance or feigned deference. “They think they know what their fates will be. They have forgotten me. They have forgotten everything.” The crystal descended into his hand and he closed his fingers around it. “I will make them *remember*. I will make *her* remember....”

 

Chamista sniffed contemptuously and returned to her worship of the monolith, apparently disinterested in Jadeite's mutterings but satisfied with what he had said all the same--or maybe she had reached her limit of distraction, lured back to her tactile analysis of the garden.

 

Shuthiru took the opportunity to creep away whilst her mistress's gaze was no longer on her, but Avishul elected to sink back into the shadows and observe a while. Observe Jadeite. Like the Sailor Senshi, she did not underestimate him.

 

******

 

Rei slid open the front shoji door at the Hikawa Jinja's main building to the gentle chirping of birds and distant crooning of Tokyo traffic; a serenity cocooned by the dense trees surrounding her home. She took a step outside into the quiet Monday morning, onto the wooden veranda--then immediately winced, the grimace for the morning sun's glare overhead. The `hero's' hangover. The miko was pleased the missing persons mystery had been solved and the youma behind it eradicated, but her body and school grades would be glad the late nights were done with. It would probably take a while and some endurance in Rei's case for Usagi to get out of party mode and part with their clubbing night life however; the raven-haired girl predicted her blonde Princess would want to hang onto the glitz and the glam, the energy and the atmosphere. But eventually everything would go back to normal. Normal girls with normal lives... until the next crisis.

 

It hadn't been too tricky to escape the deep sewers following the youma battle; Minako and Mamoru had known their way about the tunnels, such that Rei had mused over how long the pair had been investigating independently. Once topside the Guardian Senshi and Tuxedo Kamen returned to how they had began the evening; parting company and walking their own roads, fading into the night towards their respective homes. Usagi had crashed at the Hikawa Jinja beside Rei, parental consequences set aside until rest and the morning.

 

The miko had been forced to wake up prematurely after only snatching two or three hours of sleep to kick Usagi out of bed and ensure she went home to her uniform and bag to prepare for school--though not before breakfast, which Rei's early-bird Grandpa happily had ready and warm in the kitchen for the groggy girls. Thank goodness for dawn prayers and Jinja duties. The hot meal had helped, doing all it could to revive the teenagers, but it was no substitute for honest slumber, with Rei and Usagi both still feeling the weight of fatigue piggybacking on their shoulders. Usagi had plodded home half-awake and half-dreaming, prey for inattentive motorists Rei had worried. Even now the Fire Senshi wondered if her Princess was snoring in a bus shelter or on a park bench somewhere. Or if the odango atama had made it to her own bedroom and decided she was too `sick' for school today, a comatose lump on her bed while her mother or Luna ineffectually nagged.

 

The thought brought a wry smile to Rei's face and she wiped at her watery eyes with the edge of a finger. A normal life was alright with her.

 

Rei heard her grandfather striking flint behind her, the sparks falling upon her meant to ward evil spirits and keep her safe while journeying from home. Rei had believed her injuries--minor scratches and bruises really compared to what she had been through in the past--had been mostly hidden by her school uniform and makeup. Maybe she hadn't been diligent enough in front of the mirror. The miko hoped the gesture wasn't his idea of a message; that he was anxious about whether she was `fighting' again. How her Grandpa and Yuuichirou explained away her wounds during particular trying times in Tokyo and beyond boiled down to Rei being labelled a `yankee'. Oh, they sugar coated it, suggesting she was `defending' people; hapless souls that were victims of bag snatchers or flashers or some nonsense; but Rei was aware they pretty much thought she turned into some High School hooligan every so often, for whatever reason the two could rationalise the `acting out' with--Rei's temper, the stuffiness of attending a private academy, residual anger at her father, built up stress--whatever reason. At least neither her Grandpa nor Yuuichirou tried to intervene.

 

“Go safely,” Rei's Grandpa intoned.

 

“I'm going,” Rei answered semi-formally, resuming her walk across the veranda and down the few stairs into the Jinja's courtyard all the while under her Grandpa's watch. Phobos and Deimos swooped by, and with a final flutter of wings took roost in the main building's eaves above the girl's head as she passed, watching over her as well in their own beady-eyed manner. The Fire Senshi resisted the desire to sigh, breaking out into a yawn instead.

 

Rei traversed the courtyard, meeting Yuuichirou near the middle as he brushed the paving stones clear with a straw broom. He wore the traditional white gi and indigo hakama as he did whenever he was at the Jinja--which was almost every hour of every day. The Hikawa Jinja was his home as much as it was Rei's, and would remain so as long as the miko did. Yuuichirou Kumada was in love with her. `Love at first sight' he had proclaimed, years ago now. How he could see anything through his shaggy bangs was astonishing, but an earnest honesty was one of Yuuichirou's admirable traits. It hurt Rei to look at him sometimes, familiar with the pain he must feel whenever she was near, or in his thoughts, or in his dreams.... Love could save or it could damn.

 

“Make sure you do it properly for once,” Rei ordered as she walked by, the smirk at the side of her mouth showing that she was teasing, “I don't want to have to do it over when I get back.”

 

“Aww, Rei!” Yuuichirou whined, clutching the broomstick to his chest, the kicked puppy.

 

Rei grinned. She remembered the days an unkempt Yuuichirou used to sleep in until midday and was hopeless at chores. He was still kind of unkempt and hopeless, however he had come a long way since then. It might be selfish of her, but Rei was glad he was still with her. He was family.

 

Rei walked through the vermilion torii positioned at the height of the Hikawa Jinja's stone stairway, the gateway between the Jinja's holy ground and the outside world, and began the long descent to street level. She saw them before she finished, waiting for her at the sidewalk. Government warriors, their dark chariots parked at the side of the road. Men in black. Rei sighed this time.

 

“Ms. Hino, can I offer you a ride to school this morning?” one spoke as soon as Rei's feet hit the pavement. His words were all eloquence, silky political sleaze at its finest. She saw her father in every man standing there.

 

“No,” Rei flatly responded, turning and walking down the street towards the bus stop.

 

“Ms. Hino, please. At the request of your--”

 

Rei stopped as the stooge forced the invitation, her head rolling back and her shoulders slumping in exasperation briefly before she turned back around. “Do you really want to do this *now*?” she said, every word dripping rancour and the intimation that she was not in the mood. It was too early in the morning and she'd had too little sleep to be accosted in the street like this, right in front of her home. What, did they--or rather, the girl's father--have a choice comment to make on her nocturnal activities in Roppongi yesterday? Or maybe this was just a long time coming. Whatever. Rei was not exhausted enough to accept a ride from the devil's chauffeurs. “Whatever it is he wants, my answer is *no*.”

 

“It concerns one `Usagi Tsukino'.”

 

Rei frowned. They had her attention. She wondered if they were conscious of the button they had pushed, of the Achilles heel they had stabbed. Of *course* they were. They were government lapdogs with leashes extending all the way back to her father.

 

One of the men in the trademark black business suits and sunglasses nearest the middle sedan opened the rear passenger door. “Ms. Hino,” he bid, bowing as he held the handle.

 

“Make it quick,” Rei muttered, mainly for the sake of saying *something* rebellious. She would not go quietly. But she *did* go, walking over and ducking into the black leather backseat of the luxury car.

 

The man at the door closed it after her as the other rear passenger door opened, and the government representative that had addressed her before climbed inside. He leaned forward, towards the driver and other agent in the front seat. “T*A Private Girls' School.”

 

There was a crackle of static, the driver mumbling the destination into a microphone in his cuff, and the three car motorcade set off. The door locks snapped shut in unison. It sounded like a sprung trap.

 

Rei sat with her knees together and her school satchel on her lap, uncomfortable despite the expensive plush leather seating. She felt closer to her father in this car, with these men present. She didn't like being reminded of him, of her family before. “So talk.” It came out harsh. The men were mere employees, doing their jobs, yet it was hard to think like that and excuse them, to not consider them extensions of `Mr.' Takashi Hino. This was the dance they performed, Rei and these men, at the behest of her father. They probably thought her the biggest brat ever, unaware of the true Hino family history; fooled by whatever childhood falsehoods her father preferred to relate in her absence. It was a regrettable situation. But both sides would play their roles to a tee.

 

“Mr. Hino--,” the lackey cleared his throat, “--your father--wished me to convey that he misses you and regrets not seeing his only child on a more regular basis. He expressed disappointment that you have turned down his many invitations to socialise. Please understand that Mr. Hino is a busy and important man, whose time is highly prized by his peers and supporters, and that these... squandered... opportunities were not arranged without a great deal of effort.” The man reached inside his suit jacket, producing a crisp white envelope with Rei's name written on it in a hand she bitterly recognised. He opened it, an equally crisp white folded card within. “Once again, Mr. Hino requests your presence and the chance to show off his beautiful daughter at dinner this evening. He would delight to--”

 

Rei tuned out. He was good, this envoy of her father's. Very polite, with pauses and inflections in just the right places and on just the right words to communicate the true mood of `Mr. Hino'. Same old dance.

 

“You mentioned a name,” the Senshi of Fire interrupted, deliberately looking away outside the passenger window at the scenery whizzing by--a model of apathy. She could play games too.

 

The envoy snorted ever so slightly and slipped the card and envelope back inside his jacket. He appreciated it was futile. “Mr. Hino has... concerns... about your....” He trailed off a moment, pretending to be in a struggle to find the right words. But he knew the words alright. These guys were always good with words. “...`friends'. Specifically one `friend'. A Ms. `Usagi Tsukino'.”

 

Rei casually rested her elbow on the edge of the car door, where the bottom of the window met the frame. Still gazing elsewhere. “I don't see what my choice of friends *or* my private life has to do with him.”

 

“You carry the Hino name. You are Mr. Hino's treasured daughter and only child. Naturally he has parental concern for you.”

 

“And what is his `parental concern' about Usagi?” Rei said, managing to keep to the dance, to the game, and not let her temper do the talking.

 

The envoy paused a second to take a slow breath in and then out. Still with the decorum, exercising at least the show of delicacy a `touchy' subject deserved. “Mr. Hino has... worries... that Ms. Usagi Tsukino is not the... `right sort' for you to associate with. It is no reflection on the girl herself, but he feels you would be better suited to seek your friendships elsewhere.”

 

“I've been friends with Usagi for a long time,” Rei said, measuring her words. It was difficult. “Why does he feel she's not the `right sort' for me now?” The Fire Senshi turned her head to look the government bully square in the eye. Was he ever going to say it outright?

 

There was a change in the man's gaze, understanding rippling between Rei and him. The dance continued, but the steps quickened. “Mr. Hino can overlook your midnight `clubbing' binges, your deteriorating grades, your constant disrespect towards him and his office, but *not* this. All he wants is what is best for you, Ms. Hino.”

 

Not so polite anymore. “How would he know?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“How would he know what's `best' for me? Has he met her? Has he met Usagi?” Rei ground her teeth, shaking her head. “This isn't about me. It's not even about her. It's *always* about *him*. My `father's' only concern is his own reputation. His position. His name. How this could damage *him*. He can't even come and face me himself!”

 

“As I said, Mr. Hino is a considerably busy man. If you would just accept his inv--”

 

“*No*! I said *no*!” Rei exclaimed, heat in her amethyst glare. She was losing it. No, she *had* lost it. *Damn* him and his *concern*! “What I do, who I spend time with, how I live my *life*, is none of his business! That ended the *instant* he stopped caring for... for us!” The Senshi of Passion ground her teeth harder, forcing back the memories, focusing on the present instead--and the anger. “Who my friends--no, you know what, `Ms. Usagi Tsukino' is *not* just my friend. Usagi is my *girlfriend*! He can't even say it!” None of the hate was for the man next to her. The man Rei raged at wasn't even in the car. But to serve as her father's proxy was to be burned the same.

 

“Mr. Hino, if you would just calm--” the government aide started to sweat, no longer Mr. Cool.

 

Rei had had enough of politics. “Does he think I'd just break up with her at his command?! Usagi's more of a family than he has *ever* been! *No*, I will *not* `seek my friendships elsewhere'! You can tell him *that*!”

 

“Ms. Hino...” the envoy spoke hurriedly in the temporary lull as Rei sucked in rapid breaths of air, “if he decides, he can make life very difficult for you. Please. It's a High School romance. Transient infatuation brought on by a momentary phase. It's not worth....”

 

He ceased talking when he saw the girl's disgusted expression, realising his mistake. Threats never worked on Rei. And demeaning her relationship with her Princess? “Don't you ever come to me with this again,” the Senshi of Passion hissed, low and cold, threatening right back. She thumped the bottom of her fist against the passenger window. “Let me out. *Now*!”

 

The driver and government tool in the front beside him exchanged uncertain looks, before the former glanced in the rear view mirror for confirmation from the shaken spokesman in the back. Wisely the spokesman nodded.

 

The sedan pulled over to the curb, the rest of the motorcade imitating. The aide in the front passenger seat opened his door to act as Rei's doorman, but the raven-haired girl wasn't about to wait around. She opened her door herself, slamming it behind her before anyone could say another word.

 

Straight away Rei stormed down the street in the direction of her school, not looking back. There was still a distance to go to arrive at T*A Private Girls' School, however the Senshi of Fire welcomed it. Fury still howled within her, pumping her veins with heat and adrenaline. She'd make short work of the deficit.

 

The motorcade drove past Rei. Her grandfather's warding hadn't performed well. She hadn't either. He could still get to her. Even after all Rei had been through, with all of the power she had at her beck and call; the creatures she'd fought and the catastrophes she'd helped avert; her father could *still* affect her in ways nothing else in this universe could; still inflict a brand of hurt and spawn of emotion of no other like.

 

Tears clustered to emerge, whether wrought of pain and sadness or rage and frustration, it didn't matter. Rei willed them to dry up with everything she was. She would not be that girl again; the girl before she had known and loved Usagi and reawakened as a Sailor Senshi. That girl had grown up. *This* girl didn't care. *This* girl didn't have another tear for her father. Not. One. More.

 

Rei inwardly cursed as she wiped her damp eyes.

 

******

 

Minako smiled a bit too cheerfully at the stone-faced police officers outside the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters, the men in blue standing stiffly at attention at their posts immediately outside the main entrance, legs spaced apart and white-gloved hands braced atop propped shinai, at the ready. The blonde guessed it wasn't the smartest move in the world to waltz on over into the authorities' clutches when she was outright skipping school, but she wasn't a stranger to the dominating wedge-shaped building or the dedicated people bustling around inside it. Plus she had left her Juuban High uniform at home in favour of much less conspicuous and much more stylish threads. Minako wasn't stupid. Wasn't there some saying that being close to your enemy was the best place to be? The police would be clueless with her sauntering *right* under their noses! Sometimes being gung-ho without a thought spared for failure was what kept you the safest.

 

Class hadn't been an option today. After last night's work out Minako had gone straight home with Artemis to drench herself in the shower and then plant herself face first on her bed. Alarms were ignored or taken out with well-aimed pillows or plush toys, and consequences were forgotten in the muddle exhaustion had blanketed her senses with. The Senshi of Beauty's mother would have normally stepped in to pull her into uniform and push her out the front door by then, however the girl's new `glamorous' profession granted latitude any teenager would have wept to have. How had Minako functioned for so many years without the freedom to drop school whenever she wanted and take a personal day? Modelling was worth the resentful looks, tart attitudes, various indignities and rampant egotism just for that. Well.... Nah, it was worth it. Still beat being in school.

 

The blonde's mother *had* probably assumed her daughter had had a modelling commitment late this morning though... but that wasn't Minako's fault. Minako hadn't lied. It was just... truth that hadn't been said. Like when you kept it to yourself when someone's hair looked as if rat's had been gnawing on it, or that outfit did make them look twenty kilos overweight. Okay, so she had run out of the house before she could be mired in parental conversation--still wasn't lying! Artemis would have disapproved, but he had been snoring soundly when the Guardian Senshi had closed her bedroom door and left him. Any other day Minako would have made up her slumber shortfall face down on her desk in Juuban High, however she really did have stuff to do. It just wasn't her new job that needed her but her old one. Her real one.

 

Minako had maintained enough wits about her in the small hours the subsequent night to dial a police tip line anonymously before she got home and imply through some fancy subterfuge and wordplay that the old sewer tunnels were where the authorities should be looking to for answers to their missing persons case. There hadn't been a peep about it however. No special newsbreak interrupting her favourite programme on television, no front page headline plastered on any of the local newspapers she'd seen. Maybe it was too early. Had the tip loggers taken Minako seriously? She hadn't been *that* vague. The Senshi of Love and Beauty had even offered directions to the youma's sick picnic ground to the best of her tired recollection. You could lead a horse to water but you couldn't always drown it, the blonde supposed. Minako would have to drown this horse herself.

 

The officers on duty didn't break their stoic demeanour, not even for the Senshi of Beauty's bright smile. It might have been a symbolic guard posting in some sense, but the men were still disciplined police officers, serving the role with their entire hearts. Minako nodded her approval as she past by, the Metro Police building's automatic glass doors gliding smoothly open to admit her into the landmark municipal fortress. She'd soon find out what's what; if the police were aware of her tip and whether they intended to act on it with the haste it was due. If the answer was no to any of those inquiries, Minako would see to it that was remedied. She still had some pull in the department from her stretch wearing the well-known mask of Sailor V--mainly a friend in a very high place.

 

Inside, the Tokyo MPD Headquarters was similar to any run-of-the-mill corporate lobby; lounge areas, large frontal reception desk, elevator banks---except it had a lot more men and women dressed in law enforcement getups; pistol holsters and stab vests marking the officers heading out onto the streets. There were heaps of plain clothes inspectors and the like coming and going as well; the classic suit, tie, and sometimes overcoat all the rage. Minako assumed the latter were members of the force anyway; there were civilian staff on hand in the building, but generally citizens in need went to local precincts or police boxes for aid instead of straight to HQ. It was more control and coordination here; a multitude of different bureaus from the terrorist and espionage thwarting Public Security Bureau to the less stirring Traffic Bureau working independently or in collaboration to ensure Tokyo--and in the PSB's case, all of Japan--didn't erupt into anarchy... if the Sailor Senshi hadn't already beaten them to it. There was even a training academy around here somewhere. Security was tight as you'd expect for those that dealt with it; keycards were brandished and slapped against scanners to get anywhere, opening mysterious doors to mysterious hallways and activating privileged elevators to rise to one of the building's eighteen storeys. Minako had lost her card in some cluttered drawer or dusty nook in her bedroom--at least she *thought* it was someplace in her bedroom; it had been a long while since Sailor V had paid the MPD a visit--but it was a small hiccup a simple namedrop would cure.

 

Minako walked over to the reception desk, weaving around the sporadic officer or inspector that crossed her path. They didn't pay her any mind, no doubt too absorbed in more important public safety affairs to bother with a solitary truant high school aged girl wandering in. All according to plan. Who needed a Disguise Pen?

 

Three policewomen worked the desk, clad in full police garb sans the cute hats. The Senshi of Beauty smiled pleasantly at the nearest officer. “Hello, I'd like to see the Superintendent-General please.”

 

The policewoman raised an eyebrow. She glanced for a second at one of her colleagues, and then purposefully cleared her throat. “Unfortunately the Superintendent-General is very busy. Do you have an appointment?” the officer said in a somewhat sickly-sweet patronising tone of voice.

 

Minako shook her head, however her smile endured. “No, but we go way back. I'm Minako Aino.”

 

The policewoman smiled back at the blonde, though it was more pitying than pleasant. “I'm sorry Minako. She's very busy. Maybe if you told us your problem we could help.” The woman looked to her fellow officers next to her who chimed in with agreements and pitying smiles of their own on cue.

 

Well, it *was* a big building. And it had been a few years. Not everybody could remember the blonde teenage girl that had dropped in now and then to confer with the big cheese. “I don't have a problem, really... I just need to see Natsuna.”

 

“If you have a message for the Superintendent-General, we can try to pass it along.”

 

“No... I just.... We're like old friends.” The girl laughed weakly.

 

“Minako, I'm afrai--Hold on, how old are you? It's the middle of the afternoon! Why aren't you in school?”

 

Okay, it wasn't going totally according to plan. Minako guessed there was such a thing as being *too* incognito. She had to think fast. Roll with it. Go with the flow. “Uhh...” the Inner Senshi temporised. “I graduated early. I'm a genius.”

 

The trio of policewomen squinted suspiciously at the girl in unison. Minako's smile deformed halfway towards a wince. The Senshi of Beauty *knew* she should have said she had an aging disease instead. Could you be arrested for blowing off school? How far was it at a sprint back to the entrance? Did those police officers guarding the front know how to use those shinai?

 

“You again. This doesn't seem like the place you'd find someone who claims to be *retired*.”

 

A hopeful Minako looked in the direction of the brusque remark, actually relieved to hear it. Sure enough, Toshio was there by the reception desk, hands stuffed in his pants pockets, displeasure souring his features--not exactly an uncanny portrait of a dashing saviour, but he'd do. “Toshio!” the Senshi of Love squealed, nearly jumping up and down. She waved an eager pointed finger at her old friend. “He knows me! He knows me!”

 

The policewomen regarded the gloomy white-haired man and the bubbly teenager with equal dubiousness. “Special Officer Wakagi? Do you....” The woman looked back at Minako and wrinkled her nose while her fellow officers did much the same, as if they questioned that the blonde could be linked to anybody of merit, especially within these walls. The Senshi of Beauty did her best not to pout. After everything she'd done for these people! Granted, the Tokyo MPD hadn't really wanted Sailor V's help, but still! “...know this girl?”

 

Toshio stayed silent, seeming to consider the query a while.

 

“Um, Toshio? Toshio...?” Minako said nervously, staring at him with mounting disbelief and panic.

 

“I've never seen her before. Seems like a troublemaker though. I know the type. Have her thrown out.”

 

“*What*?!” came Minako's high-pitched squeak.

 

The policewomen signalled nearby officers on HQ security detail, and they promptly jogged over, flanking the flabbergasted Senshi of Love and Beauty on both sides. “Miss, if you could...” one of the fully equipped policemen ushered, indicating the exit with a sweep of his hand. It was not a request.

 

“No way! You can't be serious!” Minako vocally exclaimed at the traitorous Toshio, gaping.

 

“Miss, I need you to lower your voice,” the would-be police escorts ordered.

 

Minako swallowed, appearing to calm as she primly sized up the policemen surrounding her; first those on the right, then those on her left. Then her gaze arrived back on Toshio. “I'll never go quietly~!” the blonde abruptly wailed.

 

An officer interlaced his arm with Minako's right and another did likewise with the girl's left, effectively restraining her. Minako thrashed like a fish out of water; however she was still hauled away on the backs of her heels towards the building's front doors, a spectacle for everyone in the lobby. “I better go down for *life*, Toshio! You better have me locked up forever! I'll get you back for this! I'll get you~!” the expletives flew. “Just wait until Big Sis hears about this~!”

 

“Wait, wait,” Toshio called, holding up his hand. “I think I remember this girl now. My apologies for the confusion.”

 

The escorting officers loosed the wrestling Inner Senshi from their iron bonds, though they gave her wary looks--as if *she* was a common criminal! That Toshio--!

 

Minako hurriedly ran over to Toshio in case any of the police officers changed their minds about her and decided to toss her out onto the street or outright arrest her just to be safe. She scowled at her `old friend' intensely, cheeks flushed. She thought she saw Toshio smile.

 

“I'll look after her,” Toshio said to the reception desk officers.

 

Toshio led Minako to the elevators, walking into the nearest vacant open one with the teenager a pace behind. The Special Officer brushed his identification keycard against the flat scanner below the array of floor buttons, authorising their operation, and pressed the button for the Administration Bureau located on the highest floor. As soon as the doors shut Minako crossly turned to him.

 

“That wasn't funny,” the Senshi grumbled. “I'm still going to tell Sis. She'll have you writing parking tickets. Or patrolling the restrooms. Or maybe she'll send you to Siberia again!”

 

“I thought you were through with meddling,” Toshio said, ignoring everything else--though his mouth did twitch at the mention of Siberia.

 

“I *am* finished with... that,” Minako answered uncomfortably. It wasn't really lying. Just truth that hadn't been said. Sailor V was no more, but.... “With *helping*.”

 

“Leave police work to the police,” the officer persisted, unconvinced.

 

“I would if they were any good at it...” Minako muttered under her breath.

 

“What was that?!”

 

“Nothing! I'm just here to see Sis, that's all. After bumping into you the other week and everything, I got to thinking about the old days... about her....” It was a half-truth, but at least there *was* truth there. Minako was looking forward to catching up with Natsuna. Just seeing the woman again would be something special.

 

Toshio was quiet then, although the silence wasn't strained. This was *Toshio* next to Minako; an old, *old* friend, no matter what she said or thought. They'd always be friends. There would always be a connection. With Natsuna as well. They were all veterans of the same war.

 

“Um, how's the official investigation going?” Minako carefully asked as the elevator slowed. “The missing persons case?”

 

“Why aren't you in school?” Toshio countered, pushing on ahead as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

 

So much for pumping him for information.

 

Toshio stopped a few steps from the elevator banks. “There's been some remodelling... do you remember the way?”

 

Minako let her crystal blue eyes soak in the rows and rows of desks with computers and documents and of course police officers, every one of them engrossed in their work. The computers were more modern than she remembered, bulky beige boxes upgraded to streamlined black towers; the desks more numerous; the faces belonging to strangers. But piles of paperwork were a constant, and the blue uniforms were essentially the same as in her thirteen year old girl memory. The spirit here could never change; buried deep in every officer's gaze in front of the Guardian Senshi was a quiet but unmistakable sense of duty.

 

“Yes. I remember.”

 

Toshio dipped his head, understanding, and returned to the elevator, leaving Minako to tour through nostalgia alone.

 

The Senshi of Love and Beauty walked along the lines of desks, where the Senshi of Justice had walked. Her feet seemed to know independent of her mind, taking her without conscious thought where she needed to go--beyond the supervisor's lone desk at the head of the others, to the hallways behind the workroom, to the office at their end.

 

Minako stood outside the office's door. She hesitated. The nameplate was the same. The title was the same. It was like walking in a memory. The blonde shook her head, exhaling. She was making herself nervous with her romanticising. The girl could feel her stomach in jumbles and a quake in her chest. This wasn't the old days. This was the here and now, and it was best to treat it as such. Be gung-ho without a thought spared.

 

Minako knocked on the door briefly and straight away invited herself in. Slowly a smile blossomed on her pretty face. It *was* like the old days. The office was practically a match for the memory. The carpet was a different colour--grey instead of teal--and the walls had been ministered to with a new lick of pearl-white paint over the former tan. The desk was the same old varnished teak, in the same spot except with a new top-of-the-line computer, and behind it a map of the city hanged, pulled down from an overhead roller. The map looked glossy and new--though had coloured pins and labels spread all over it--no doubt as up-to-date as it possibly could be; however it was in the place Minako remembered a map should be. Most critical of all was the woman sitting at the desk. Superintendent-General Natsuna Sakurada was there. The same Natsuna Sakurada. The redhead didn't even have to open her mouth--in her gut; at first sight; Minako recognised nothing was different about her Sis. Some people never changed.

 

“They changed the carpet,” Minako noted.

 

Natsuna looked up from her keyboard-tapping and document-signing. For a moment she simply did that--looked. “Minako,” she uttered slowly and precisely, as though her tongue had become unused to the name. Then the Superintendent-General smiled.

 

Minako smiled too.

 

“Minako!”

 

Natsuna bounced up from her chair and across the office to meet the just as eager blonde, enveloping Minako in a hug. “Wow, look at you!” The redhead stepped back, releasing her old friend. “You're all grown up!”

 

“Not really,” Minako chuckled somewhat guiltily. No way was she a grown up. “I'm still in High School.”

 

“To me you're all grown up,” the woman laughed, motioning the Senshi of Love over to the office's sitting area. Minako plopped herself on the couch, Natsuna beside her a few inches away. “How long has it *been*?!”

 

“Long, Sis,” Minako understated. “Long.”

 

Natsuna Sakurada *hadn't* changed. It was almost like Minako had hardly been gone a day, their natural accord to one another untouched, both of them rediscovering it immediately. There was no awkwardness, no disconnection brought on by time. Like Toshio before, Minako felt belonging in Natsuna's presence.

 

Natsuna was the same woman--slender, taller than Minako but not by that much, and young in appearance though she probably had to be around Setsuna's physical age. Long, straight, orangey-red hair down her back; sparkling amber eyes full of life and love; light makeup and jewellery and painted, manicured nails; and wearing a flashy pink dress more appropriate for a night out on the town rather than desk-shackled crime-fighting, she was as much a beauty and fashionista as Minako. Most would be amazed to learn of her job--the Superintendent-General of the Tokyo Police Department. Natsuna oversaw *everything*; every department, every case, right down to which officers patrolled where in which squad car every morning, afternoon, and night. She was *it*; the leader, the head-honcho, the brains behind the lot--everything Minako had once aspired to be. Looking at Natsuna again, beholding once more the older echo of herself, maybe the Senshi of Love and Beauty still felt those aspirations.

 

“What happened? What have you been up to? Did you see Toshio? He was here not ten minutes ago.”

 

“Yeah, I saw him,” Minako said, sniffing sourly as she remembered. “You know, we bumped into each other last week.”

 

Natsuna's brow furrowed. “Oh. You did? Strange he didn't mention it....”

 

“He's not exactly Sherlock Holmes,” Minako remarked, fondly recalling the old days of hapless Toshio ineffectually chasing her masked alter ego. “He probably forgot.”

 

“Just wait until I see him...” the redhead promised, frown deepening, a trace of the respected and authoritative woman she had to be underneath the exuberance and glam casting her normally cute features in a very different light.

 

Minako smirked to herself. It hadn't been intentional on her part to drop the Special Officer in it, but she couldn't say she was sorry for Toshio.

 

“*Well*?” Natsuna pressed, instantly back to her usual buoyant self. “Where have you been? You didn't return my calls, you just... disappeared....”

 

The Senshi of Love and Beauty shrugged. “My mission was finished. The Dark Agency had been destroyed. Sailor V wasn't needed any more. That part of my life was over. It was time to move on.”

 

“But there were still *crimes* in this city. Still criminals out there,” Natsuna passionately reminded. Sailor V had been more than just a Sailor Senshi; she had been a true force of justice--a righter of wrongs and punisher of the wicked, youma and otherwise. Finding and protecting the Moon Princess had taken precedent however, and once Sailor V had succeeded there had been no more Sailor V, only Sailor Venus. “Still people that could have used your help.”

 

Minako smiled at the woman. “I knew they'd be in good hands with you,” she said; an evasion, yet no less sincere.

 

“It was those other Sailors, wasn't it,” Natsuna deduced. “They became at large in Tokyo at precisely the time when you retired.”

 

Minako nodded, going along with the semi-truth. “It was my cue to step down and let the new generation take the stage.” She grinned faintly. “They do alright.”

 

“I'm not sure about *them*,” the Superintendent-General huffed. “They keep to themselves too much. They haven't even attempted to contact me! And your costume was *so* much cooler! They don't have your flare; your... your... pizzazz!” She shook her head. “*And* they cause widespread city damage! *No* regard for the cost of repair and cleanup! Did you know Tokyo Tower has only *now* reopened to visitors after those Sailor Senshi *wrecked* it earlier this year? *The* capitol--*country*!--landmark! The Public Safety Commission really chewed me out for that one.” Natsuna shook her head again, sobering slightly. “I lost some good officers in that tower.”

 

Minako was rolling her eyes as her friend ranted. It wasn't as if Sailor V hadn't levelled a building or two in her prime. And Minako and the other Sailor Senshi weren't to blame for Tokyo Tower's dings--a legion of invading interdimensional youma were kind of like a rowdy block party that you needed to call the cops on, except with more claws and death and less booze. Minako tried to remember what tale for the media Natsuna had spun by way of explanation for the landmark's condition--keeping the world in its orderly, defined box for the public's sanity was one of her duties. Something about gang violence or teenage delinquents, was it? Maybe the latter wasn't that far from the truth, the blonde thought with a lopsided grin.

 

“Do you... have a favourite?” the blonde asked--provoked.

 

“*Please*,” the woman scoffed, readjusting her bottom on the couch and crossing her arms irritably. “I would trade *any* of those Sailors--*all* of them!--for one Sailor V.” Natsuna eyed Minako suspiciously. “Why? Do you know them?”

 

“We've... brushed shoulders now and then,” Minako admitted cryptically. “...Not even the orange Sailor Senshi?”

 

Natsuna scowled in distaste some more under the teenager's mischievous grinning.

 

Minako glanced at the Superintendent-General's desk laden with paperwork, and at the adorned map of Tokyo. She'd gab about the good old days with Natsuna until daybreak tomorrow if she let herself. As much as the girl adored reconnecting with her erstwhile supporter, that wasn't her motivation for being here in the woman's office. Sailor V was gone, but Sailor Venus still lived on.

 

“What are you working on?” Minako prodded, getting up to wander over to the desk and snoop.

 

Quickly Natsuna scurried past the Senshi of Love and Beauty and positioned herself in the way. “Nothing! Boring stuff. Signing department budget authorisations, departmental reviews....” She shuffled some folders over a pile of magazines. Minako thought she recognised some of the titles--style rags, mostly. Sis was definitely still the fashionista--and the procrastinator.

 

“Oh yeah? What's all this here then?” Minako pushed, moseying on to the map, peering at it with exaggerated closeness; hands on her hips and bent forwards, her nose practically brushing the pins and labels.

 

At the silence behind her, Minako looked back over her shoulder. Natsuna was gazing at her peculiarly.

 

“Why are you here now?” the woman questioned. Damn, Minako had taken it too far! Sis *was* a detective at heart after all, despite the desk. “Are you...?” Natsuna's eyes brightened, seeming to draw her own happy conclusion. “Is Sailor V...?”

 

“No,” Minako said hurriedly, before the woman's hopes could rise any further. “I just... heard about those people going missing. I was curious. Any leads?”

 

“I see,” the redhead said. She couldn't hide her disappointment.

 

Minako looked aside, feeling bad. Sailor Venus wasn't the Superintendent-General's friend and ally. In her role as commander-in-chief, Natsuna had been Sailor V's staunch confidant and comrade against the covert machinations of the Dark Agency, vanguard to Queen Beryl and the Dark Kingdom. Minako had been grateful for the Superintendent-General's support. But the relationship had dissolved when the Dark Agency had, and the subsequent struggle against the nefarious subversive group--and ultimate threat to the world--that had been behind Saijou Ace--the man otherwise known as the Shittenou soldier Danburite--and his agents had been something Natsuna hadn't been a part of, or even aware of. It hadn't been her battle. The fight against the Dark Agency hadn't been either. It had been a *Sailor Senshi's* duty, no one else's. Natsuna had stumbled upon Sailor V's secret identity due to the ineptitude of a blonde in her youth--it hadn't been Minako's choice. Sailor Venus would not make that mistake again, nor would she ever place that burden on her friend again, whether the woman was willing or not.

 

“I receive daily reports from the Criminal Investigation Bureau, but they have nothing solid,” Natsuna said.

 

Minako pursed her lips, unsettled. Her tipoff hadn't gotten through then, or in the best case scenario, hadn't been processed yet. She could wait and hope for the best, but... no. Those people down there, forgotten and alone in the dirty sewer tunnels, deserved the best Minako could do *now*. “I heard something from a... a... a source.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Natsuna replied expressionlessly, clearly unimpressed with the blonde's artifice. That made two of them.

 

“Y-Yeah,” Minako laboured on anyway, turning back to the map. “From... some guys I `brush shoulders with'.” She peeked one blue eye back over her shoulder. *That* seemed to have sparked some interest in the Superintendent-General. Whether it was her new generation Sailor Senshi prejudice again or actual interest remained to be seen. “Umm.... Here.” Minako tapped a spot on the map where she, Rei, Usagi, and Mamoru had surfaced last night from the Tokyo sewer systems. “Search underground, in the old sewer tunnels. About....” The Guardian Senshi trailed her finger downwards a distance, trying to recall her footsteps in the dark and dank caverns. Eventually she drew a circle with her finger around the exit instead. “...Let's say a four hundred metre radius from there. Deep down, at least two hundred metres or so, in the tunnels they don't use any more.”

 

Natsuna had come to stand beside her, observing Minako's directions. “The sewers...” she repeated softly, thoughtfully. “The investigation team considered this. Apparently they were looking in the wrong locations, too close to the scenes of the abductions. And certainly not deep enough.” She nodded to herself and marked the area of interest on the map with a pencil. “I'll see to it that this information finds its way to the right people.” There was no skepticism, no doubting. She didn't ask what her officers would find down there. She didn't pressure Minako further on why she was so certain. Minako was a teenager, a girl in High School, and Natsuna was a grown woman in charge of the capitol's entire police force. Yet Natsuna trusted Minako utterly. The Senshi of Love and Beauty had come to the right place.

 

Natsuna put the pencil back down on her desk and turned to the blonde teen, looking her over a moment. “I missed you,” she confessed with a melancholy smile, fingering Minako's trademark red bow that kept her flaxen locks back, poking out from behind the girl's head. The woman blinked, her fingers dropping to Minako's jaw to gently ease the Inner Senshi's head to one side, exposing her neck.

 

Minako kept quiet, but she was conscious of the scabbed-over scratches there. And the bruise. The youma yesterday had gotten some good shots in, but you tended to forget about injuries after you suffered them so often--something learned way back when Minako had been Sailor V. The wounds were nothing to worry about, barring the fact that they would make Mr. Kats sweat and photographers yell when next she modelled.

 

Natsuna didn't say anything in the face of Minako's silence, retrieving her hand. Minako could imagine her thoughts; could see them in her poignant amber gaze. That the fight had never ended years ago with the Dark Agency and Sailor V's vanishing, that the blonde hadn't ever stopped. That Minako still put her life on the line without hesitation or need for recognition. That she was still a righter of wrongs and a punisher of the wicked, just exclusively the wrongs and the wicked that ordinary humans couldn't wrap their minds around, let alone hope to contest themselves. That Minako hadn't told her.

 

It was all left unsaid.

 

“Can you stay? We should do lunch! Do a proper catch up!” Natsuna enthused.

 

“Don't you have work?” Minako asked, watching the woman as she moved around the office to hover over her desk, sorting papers and wiggling her computer's mouse.

 

“A few calls to make,” Natsuna said. “One important one.” She winked at the Inner Senshi, and the girl nodded her appreciation. The missing persons case might not ever be solved in the official files, but its victims and their families would get their peace.

 

The Superintendent-General sat in her chair and picked up her phone, her other hand pressing a couple of buttons with swift familiarity. “I know this great Korean barb--” She stopped suddenly, covering the mouthpiece of the phone as she swivelled her chair to face Minako, who loitered still by the map. “Uh, Minako?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Why aren't you in school?”

 

Luckily Natsuna had always had a soft spot for Minako's antics, and a short admonishing and a couple of sheepish expressions later, the old friends had left their respective duties behind, shedding their baggage and becoming simply two people who hadn't seen one another in a long time. They spent the afternoon reminiscing; reliving past adventures, remembering departed friends, and retelling the lives they had lived up until now that the other hadn't been included in. Minako told Natsuna about her break into the modelling industry and its every high and low, about getting into Juuban High School with the majority of her new friends, and about those new friends themselves; from Makoto's scrumptious cooking to Michiru's command of the violin. Natsuna recounted her persevering spinster status and the disastrous series of omiai that maintained the latter, the annoyances of her top-tier job and interesting former cases, and her sister Haruna's similar relationship woes, who was a teacher in Juuban Middle School.

 

The food and drink flowed, as did the smiles and laughs, before nostalgia brought its sobering wistfulness. Then came more food and drink, more stories, and the smiles and laughs began anew. Minako felt more comfortable than she had been in a long while, living the past again but with someone who knew it like she did--knew her. She and Natsuna talked far longer than lunch, far longer than either of them should have given their responsibilities.

 

But the present could wait.

 

******

 

Usagi walked along the quiet streets of her neighbourhood, through small alleys slotted between houses wide enough for only a solitary car to squeeze by, and even smaller lanes that allowed only one or two people to pass shoulder-to-shoulder, not counting assorted trash piles and other discarded junk that might be in the way. The girl was a master of all the shortcuts, alternative routes, and dead ends of this particular area of Juuban. It was home turf and always had been since she'd been old enough to wander. Even under moonlight in the dead of night Usagi was sure of her footing on these roads. Even while youma chased her, assailing her at every turn, she was sure. That had happened plenty of times in the past to prove that the girl was.

 

Fifty-one weeks out of the rest of the year however nothing lurked in the narrow lanes and lonely street corners, apart from the occasional cat, collared and otherwise. You never could tell though. Usagi wasn't about to dwell on it, at least when she could help it. If weirdness jumped out at her she would freak and scream, maybe run, but then turn right back around and deal with it. But why work herself up before she knew for sure? The blonde had tons of other stuff in her normal life to stress her out without heaping on imaginary monsters prowling behind every wall and in every shadow. And under every manhole.

 

Rei's suspicions had been spot on. Usagi had had her own theories too about the missing Tokyo citizens, of course. Of course youma had been the culprits. Of course they had targeted Roppongi's clubs. Good thing Usagi--and Rei--had been in a Roppongi club last night! Everything had gone to plan. Mamoru and Minako hadn't been a part of that plan, but an extra pair or two of fighting hands weren't something you nitpicked about. Or maybe... they *had* been part of the plan. Maybe Rei had arranged for backup in spite of her resistance. The creeping notion climbing through to the height of the blonde's thoughts brought the Moon Princess a sense of comfort while at the same time left her ticked off. After all the fretting Usagi had done, and after all of Rei's stubborn bluster in the face of it, her sly Senshi of Fire had been prepared the whole time. Hopefully Rei was finally learning that being unnecessarily reckless wasn't cool, especially when you almost came close to killing yourself in nearly every instance. Usagi would be glad to have one less worry regarding her hot-blooded girlfriend--though there were plenty others left that would keep the girl busy.

 

All too often it was simple to tell what Rei was feeling; her emotions bubbling just below the surface of a barely held facade--whenever they didn't boil over completely, all fire and heat. But those obvious flames veiled a depth behind them that no one knew. Buried things that smouldered, burning secretly deep at the raven-haired girl's core with long-felt, quiet passion--but passion to rival any of her overt thoughts and feelings, if not dwarf them utterly. Not even Usagi understood all of those depths. Just as Rei had hidden her love for the blonde flawlessly for years without the feeling ever dimming in its isolation, there were more old passions, more old fires that drove her without wane. Rei hadn't lived her life like Usagi, with the `perfect' family and a `perfect' upbringing. Living had been harder for the miko and had shaped her differently. It had scalded her, blistered and scarred her on the inside, where people couldn't see. Not every passion Rei held secret was as pure as selfless love. But Usagi, with patience, and love, would unveil them. And snuff them out before they scarred her Fire Senshi more.

 

What Usagi was certain hadn't gone to plan was the parental fallout. Most teenagers would be ecstatic right now to be going home, free from school for another day, but that Usagi hadn't a *choice* in going home was what stripped that joy from her. She had been grounded. She had been sentenced to two weeks of afterschool social exile--she wasn't even allowed to keep her phone!--and all thanks to saving the city, or at least its sewers, with the tiny niggle of doing it past her curfew. It didn't seem fair. The blonde was *supposed* to be meeting up with Rei and the rest of their friends before heading to the Hikawa Jinja to hang out, not be *missing* out! Usagi would have gone AWOL regardless of the imposed punishment or the inevitable compounded later one; however Rei had been firm this morning about working on regaining her mother and father's favour. You would think the Princess's *girlfriend* would be more sympathetic! Didn't Rei *want* to see her? Shouldn't she *approve* of Usagi sneaking out? Of course, if she was sneaking out to fight youma and save the day it was okay, but to spend a couple of hours with the person she loved *and* hadn't seen since early this morning? Oh no, *that* was unthinkable.

 

Usagi forlornly booted a semi-squashed juice carton down the street, kicking it again and again whenever she caught up to it, before hitting it a final time into the closest gathering of garbage for pickup. It wasn't Rei's fault. She knew she shouldn't get cross at her. Sometimes things just happened, and Usagi was aware that Rei just wanted to stay on her parents' good side so that they would like her. Usagi guessed it was kind of cute. Her mother and father already liked Rei, yet the miko still worried. Above all Rei simply didn't want Usagi needlessly getting into more trouble. Usagi got it, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow when all you had to look forward to after school was doing homework. Alone. *That* was the reward for helping save the day?!

 

Perhaps if Usagi looked depressed enough her mother would feel sorry for her and cave. Normally the blonde's Mama was perfectly content with her daughter's relationship with her best friend together with all its quirks and demands, but this morning even she had been against the girl's unauthorised overnight `date'--if beating up youma was comparable to dinner and a movie and a sleepover these days. Naturally Usagi's parents didn't know the truth, or the Moon Princess would have gotten more than eleven missed calls on her mobile phone and maybe a little leeway for the `irresponsibility'. Usagi wondered occasionally--and usually on occasions like this--whether it would be easier if her parents were clued in about her alter ego and the detours it obliged her to make in her life... then she remembered who her parents were. Usagi would probably end up being grounded forever, locked inside her bedroom while youma pigged out on everybody in town.

 

It was that stupid maths test result from a week or two ago that had clinched the teenager's incarceration and her Mama's censure, Usagi was positive. She had tried putting off uttering her terrible score for as long as she could, but that had only made it worse when her mother had ultimately pried her failing grade out of her. And with her father unjustly saying in the background that it was because of violated curfews and seeing too much of a `very distracting' girlfriend, a grounding was bound to follow. Rei said that sometimes you just had to smile and bear it and do what you had to do, no matter how much what you had to do sucked, but Usagi didn't think she was a person right for that sort of mentality. She just wasn't the type to throw herself on the mercy of the court, or on her own sword, or whatever; not when there was still a way she could wriggle out of it. Maybe if Usagi looked sad and mopey whenever anybody in her house looked at her, they would see how much she was suffering and how sorry she was, and let her go... *maybe*.... then she could run straight to Rei's place!

 

Her mood much improved, Usagi happily trotted the remainder of the distance along the street to her house, and through the gate and up to the front door. Unlocking it hurriedly with her key, the energetic blonde burst in and quickly kicked off her shoes. “I'm home~!” Usagi cheerfully greeted whoever of her family was within earshot, before cringing when she recalled she was supposed to be sad and mopey. Oh well, maybe she was putting on a brave face?

 

“Welcome back!” the girl's mother shouted with mirrored cheer from somewhere in the kitchen, over the bubbling and whistling of dinner cooking.

 

“You still remember where you live,” Usagi's father called from the living room afterwards, sounding like someone trying too hard to be stern. His tone--such that is was--wasn't what bothered the teenager however, rather that he had already used that stupid line when Usagi had popped in earlier today before school to change into her uniform!

 

“Oh, stop that Kenji,” the blonde's mother chided in the nick of time before a slighted Usagi involuntarily broke her sad and mopey cover to yell at her Papa.

 

“Just remember you're grounded!” Usagi's father huffed.

 

“Ye~ess~!” Usagi drawled cheekily despite herself as she stomped up the stairs to her room. Depressed people still got angry sometimes. “Can I at *least* have my phone back?!” she shouted from the top of the landing, turning around to hurl her frustration back downstairs.

 

“Not if you're not going to use it!” her father replied.

 

The Moon Princess burst into her room and shut the door behind her a bit too hard, jolting the black cat snoozing on her bed into full wakefulness. “Sorry Luna,” Usagi said as she tossed her schoolbag into her desk chair and started tugging her sailor fuku over her head. “It's been a long day. And it started out as a long *night*.”

 

Luna's furry brow knitted as she seemed to puzzle over what the blonde had just uttered.

 

“It wasn't like I planned it or anything. All I did was stay over at Rei's,” Usagi harped on as she undid the clasp on her blue skirt. “Well... as far as Mama and Papa know.” She threw the skirt onto the bed next to Luna along with her top. “It's kind of hard to send a text when monsters are trying to rip you to pieces. It doesn't really cross your mind, you know?”

 

“Monsters?” Luna parroted, latching onto that one part of her charge's rant. The feline perked up, whiskers twitching, suddenly appearing to take genuine interest in what the blonde was saying.

 

“Yeah. There was a monster mash underneath Roppongi's nightclubs,” Usagi said, pulling out some casual clothes from her wardrobe to wear. She frowned, pausing in what she was doing for a second and cocking her head to a contemplative angle. “You know, it could have been *anywhere* under Tokyo after how far we walked.” The girl shrugged, stepping into her shorts. “Hasn't Artemis given you a full report or whatever it is you two do?”

 

“He hasn't...” Luna answered, looking somewhat hurt to be out of the loop.

 

“Don't worry about it, Luna,” Usagi reassured her friend, nuzzling the cat behind her ears before donning her t-shirt. “He's probably still sleeping it off. It was quite a fight! It doesn't matter anymore anyhow. The youma are just more grime clogging the sewer tunnels now.”

 

“I'm glad everyone is safe...” Luna remarked, settling her chin down on her front paws again, albeit uneasily. She blinked and lifted her head once more. “Artemis was *there*?” she asked before shaking her head. “Nevermind, I suppose it's not important. But Usagi, these youma could only be part of a more serious problem. Are they a new type?”

 

“No, everyone was in agreement that they were leftovers from Tokyo Tower.”

 

“Are you certain you and... `everyone'... destroyed *all* the youma?” the black cat questioned.

 

“We got rid of a *lot*,” Usagi half-boasted, half-marvelled, turning around briefly from her mirror where she was checking her pigtails, running her hands along the dual tresses in turn to smooth them out. “Forget about it Luna. They're history.”

 

Usagi smiled resolutely at her reflection, ignoring Luna's restless expression in the mirror. It was time to go back downstairs and put on a good performance. It shouldn't be too hard--she wasn't exactly super-duper happy. The blonde lightly and simultaneously slapped her cheeks a couple of times each and adopted a pout. What soul could refuse this heartbroken girl in the mirror?

 

“See you when I see you, Luna!” Usagi farewelled, heading for the bedroom door.

 

“I thought you were grounded?” Luna said, her ruby eyes pursuing the teenager. She had probably overheard the argument this morning--Usagi's Mama could get pretty loud.

 

Usagi lingered at the door. “I am, but I...” she bobbed her head from side to side, struggling to find the words. “...We're still in negotiations,” she went with, her head bobs becoming self-assured nods.

 

Luna sighed and looked away. “Rei...” she murmured, as if the raven-haired girl was the source of every hiccup ever encountered.

 

“Awww Luna, don't start,” Usagi whined. It was an old argument, and the blonde did mean *old*. It was worn out, a dead horse, over and done with for everybody *except* the feline. Even Mamoru was over it! Well, maybe not in *every* way for him... but certainly in the way Luna continued to nag about.

 

“I'm not saying anything,” Luna insisted, in a particular tone Usagi had heard many, many times over the course of her teen years from her parents that said a great deal for not saying anything.

 

“Luna...” Usagi sighed. After a moment she walked over to the bed and sat down beside the cat that had been her advisor. The Princess still tried to regard her as one, however it was difficult when the thing Luna advised against was the one thing the blonde could not and would not ever back down on. “Nothing bad's happened,” Usagi endeavoured to parley one last time. “The world hasn't ended. The universe didn't implode. Time and space didn't throw up. Nothing bad's *going* to happen. We--Rei and I--we *made* it.” Luna didn't look at the Moon Princess as the girl reached out to stroke her fur. “I miss you,” Usagi said softly. “I miss how it was. I miss how you and Rei got along so well together. I know, deep down, she misses how it used to be between you too.... Just as you do.”

 

“She's... not the same person,” Luna said, her voice straining just a little. “She's different.”

 

“No. She's the same,” Usagi smiled, and there were tears in her eyes, pushed into her vision by her expression. “Rei's the person she's always really been. She's as true to herself as she's ever been. If you just... *looked*... looked at her... you'd see it. You'd see *her*.” Usagi's petting hand ceased, simply resting on Luna's back. “I love her, Luna,” the girl said quietly, staring through her tears. It was so easy to say. “I love her. I'm happy... and it's because of Rei. The world, the universe, time and space has accepted us. Please... if not for anything else, even if you don't really believe in us, please... for *me*... for whatever fondness you have for me... please... j-just....”

 

“Usagi....”

 

Usagi turned her head to look Luna, and was surprised to feel her cheeks were wet. The blonde was more surprised by Luna's consoling paw on her leg.

 

“I'm sorry, Usagi,” Luna said solemnly. “I haven't... been there for you... like I should have. I've failed. I've failed in my duty. If Queen Serenity was here....” She started to shake her head, but then looked up and smiled. There was understanding sparkling in her eyes. “If Queen Serenity was here, I know what she would say to me. I know what she would desire. And in her wisdom, she would be correct. Neither you or Rei are wrong. Love... real love... is never wrong. If Queen Serenity was here, she'd feel no different. In her heart she would be happy for her daughter... like I should be happy for you. And for Rei. I'm sorry, Usagi. For too long I was thinking too hard on what *might* happen and not what was before my eyes. You're happy. You're in love.” Luna's body relaxed, as though it had been tense for a long time. “I know what that's like. I *know* it's *right*.”

 

“Luna...!”

 

Usagi grabbed her old friend up into a fierce hug, all but squashing the cat against her body. Luna seized up, then thrashed, and then seemed to accept the long overdue affection. “Thank you, Luna! Thank you!” Usagi gushed, shaking the cat from side-to-side. “I'm going to see Rei! Are you coming?”

 

“Yefh, um comming!” Luna's smothered voice readily agreed much to Usagi's joy... although after releasing the feline from her tight embrace the blonde wondered if Luna had just said that so she'd let her go.

 

Usagi held Luna in a bundle in her arms as she raced out of her bedroom, entirely too exultant for what she'd intended to unleash on her parents. Yet the blonde didn't care. She'd muddle through and somehow everything would be alright.

 

Usagi bounded down the stairs, before being slowed by the strange sight of her mother standing at their bottom, waiting for her.

 

“Usagi! I was about to call you! Some people are here to see you!” the woman whispered teetering somewhere between excitement and anxiousness. Her gaze upon her sometimes `undisciplined' daughter seemed to hunt for a cue as to which emotion to go with.

 

Feeling more anxious than excited herself, Usagi took the steps she had left slowly, buying the time to wrack her brain and maybe come up with a reason why she might be in trouble to the degree `people' would come calling. Was it her teachers from Juuban High to lament her poor performance? No, no, her Mama would have recognised *that* sighing and head-shaking crowd right away and would be giving her an earful this instant. Who, then? Had the authorities traced her to her doorstep at last? Maybe they were after her to pay for property damage. Or it could be the media! Usagi had always flirted with the idea of fame and fortune, but not at the expense of her secret identity!

 

“People? Umm... they aren't from the city council or something, are they? Or guys that work in the sewers?” Usagi asked nervously. “Did you see any press passes?”

 

“I don't think so,” the girl's mother said, keeping her voice low as she glanced into the living room. She turned her head abruptly back to Usagi as if just hearing what the flighty teenager had said, flashing her a perplexed expression before dismissing the blonde's odd ramble. “They asked for you by name, and only said that it was a matter for you and you alone.”

 

“And you just let them in?” Usagi said. What if they were con artist burglars? Or members of a psycho cult looking to recruit? ...Or looking for their latest sacrifices?! Or... what if they were *youma*?!

 

“They looked important, well-dressed types like businessmen. Anyway, your father is with them. Maybe they're from a university! Maybe they want to discuss giving you a scholarship!” The woman looked delighted at the prospect, before suddenly seeming to remember just who her daughter was.

 

Usagi swallowed uneasily, clearing the stairs and walking past her Mama into the living room--and into whatever snare awaited her.

 

“Usagi!” The blonde's Papa welcomed her a little too eagerly as he saw the girl come into the room. He was sitting in his usual lounge chair but was bolt upright, gripping the armrests in both hands. Adjacent to him seated on the L-shaped sectional sofa were two men Usagi recognised. It wasn't their faces she knew however, but their black suits and ties. “These gentlemen work for Mr. Takashi Hino, Rei's father.”

 

Through the living room window Usagi saw more government spooks hanging around the front gate of her house, and a little further past them a dark sedan was parked at the curb. They had found her. The blonde didn't know what that meant exactly, however the heavy stone in the pit of her stomach told her it wasn't good. Plus it was never good on TV and in the movies when the government tracked you down. It typically ended up with a lot of running down streets and helicopters with big searchlights, and not being able to use a phone ever again. The joke would be on the suits though since Usagi's had been confiscated.

 

“I'll... give you some privacy,” Usagi's father said clumsily, quickly rising from his chair as though he couldn't wait to get out of there. He stopped in front of the girl for a moment though, hunching over to reach her ear. “You didn't tell me Rei's father was a member of the Diet! I thought she was a miko!” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

 

“She *is* a miko!” Usagi hissed back.

 

“She must think we're so common!” the teenager's Papa bemoaned, before turning back around to smile obsequiously at the men in black. “I'll, eh, be just outside....” He slinked off, a salaryman before government executives. Usagi couldn't blame him--the men were intimidating up close. Any figures of authority were when you were forced to face them head on.

 

Luna hopped out of her grasp as Usagi walked around the coffee table near the middle of the room and gingerly sat on the angled sofa, on the side the men weren't. Usagi had deliberately avoided looking the agents in the eye until now to not challenge her already rocky nerve, but unless she wanted to be rude or come over as a weirdo there was no delaying it any further. The blonde still took a long moment though, lifting her gaze to Rei's father's employees... whatever they really were. Spooks, men in black, agents... they could all be secretaries, for everything Usagi knew about them--Rei was tight-lipped on the topic of her father. It could be that Usagi was overreacting. Maybe this was nothing. It probably had to do with Rei.... She wasn't hurt, was she? It wasn't one of *those* types of visits, was it?

 

“Is... Is Rei okay?” Usagi hesitantly inquired, suddenly worried. Her voice sounded small and very girl-like to her ears before these impassive adults.

 

“Ms. Hino is in relatively good health,” the man nearest Usagi spoke. He took off his sunglasses, slipping them inside his suit. The other man did not and simply sat without either a twitch of movement or emotion--it was rather unsettling. Usagi tried not to look at him but discovered that she couldn't control herself from shooting him glances. “We apologise if we caused you concern. We are here on her father's behalf.”

 

“Oh,” Usagi replied, her dry throat swallowing. Right. Of course it had to do with Rei's father. “Does he want me to talk to her for him? I... don't know if I feel comfortable with that.... I mean, I'd love to help, but Rei doesn't--”

 

“No, Ms. Tsukino,” the man without the sunglasses said. He scooted forwards, leant towards the teenager and clasped his hands together, elbows on his knees. Usagi sat a bit more upright at the slightly increased intimacy of their conversation. “But I can tell you understand the friction between parent and child.”

 

Usagi tentatively nodded.

 

“See?” the government employee remarked to his aloof colleague. “I knew we had an intelligent, reasonable young woman before us.” He smiled at Usagi. The blonde saw flashes of politicians and door-to-door salesmen in her mind.

 

The man's smile fell and he sighed. “Ms. Hino has had a... tumultuous childhood. A difficult life, as I'm sure you're aware. In her adolescence years and into adulthood, she deserves--*needs*--the support, the direction, the *love* that only a parent--her sadly sole living parent--can give.” He paused, looking square at Usagi. “Yes?”

 

The blonde bobbed her head gingerly again, not feeling very clued in about what was going on, but certain of the fact that she would like Rei to be happy and safe, and to have as much of a loving family as she could just as Usagi had. The raven-haired girl seemed fine living with her Grandpa at the Hikawa Jinja, but having her father back in the picture, their past reconciled, could only improve on the miko's home life.

 

“A kind young woman as well,” the man remarked again, the smile--somewhat lopsided Usagi noticed--back. “So you see it too then. Ms. Hino has been wayward for too long. Year after year her errant behaviour grows worse; behaviour that does not reflect the noble young woman she is at heart. Mr. Hino is troubled by her sliding school marks and mounting absences--”

 

“That's because...!” Usagi began to defend her girlfriend, before quickly shutting up. She couldn't very well speak of Rei's other life; that girl that slung fire and fists; of cities saved and monsters slain--and of homework neglected and schooldays missed.

 

“--And the caustic attitude that is being reinforced by the negative influences around her,” the government official continued without rest. “Yes?” he prompted again.

 

The girl opened her mouth to respond, to stand up for her love... but could only nod once more. What could Usagi say? That it wasn't Rei's fault? That Rei was *more* than what Takashi Hino saw, that Rei was *good* and *noble*, everything a father would weep to have in a daughter and then some? Usagi could feel the words inside her, stirring her, yet in her head they sounded hollow. Out loud, to these men, they would sound even emptier. So Usagi nodded, twisted up inside, feeling that she was failing Rei.

 

“Excellent,” the man approved.

 

The other government official suddenly moved, his hand going inside his suit. He brought out a crisp piece of paper and passed it to the first man.

 

“Then please accept this token,” the first man said, placing the piece of paper on the coffee table. With two fingertips he slid it over and in front of Usagi.

 

It was a cheque.

 

“Mr. Hino will be delighted that you understood. He is... appreciative... for the `friendship' you have provided for his daughter up until now, and wishes you good fortune on your future endeavours elsewhere, wherever your life takes you.”

 

It was a *cheque*. It was made out to her, signed and sealed by Takashi Hino. It had a lot of zeros. More than Usagi had ever had herself, maybe more than even her whole family had ever had, but far, *far* less than deserved for what it was trying to buy. Usagi couldn't count them. She couldn't see them. She couldn't hear anything else the government spook was saying. Usagi understood clearly at last. This visit had been about *her* after all--about getting rid of her. Just for that the men had come and no other reason. Just for that.

 

“I'm sorry to interrupt, but I thought you'd all like some refreshments.” The girl's mother's voice and the rattle of cups of coffee and plates of cookies on a serving tray cut through the fog, however she could do nothing but stare at the cheque. The Princess didn't know what she was feeling. She had an urge to giggle at the incredulity of it. And to throw up. “Usagi? What's wrong? Kenji--”

 

“You have to leave.” It was Usagi's father's voice, unlike she had heard it before.

 

“Our business is finished,” the government agent said, putting his dark glasses back on. He stood up together with his colleague and moved towards the front door, the blonde's father at their heels. She heard the front door open and then slam.

 

“Wow, Usagi's rich!” Shingo exclaimed, popping over his sister's shoulder to ogle the cheque--the bribe, the buyout, the payoff--whatever you wanted to call it, no term better than the last.

 

“Shingo,” their mother scolded sharply, quieting the boy.

 

Usagi's Papa came back into the room and sat down next to the blonde. He put his arm around her shoulders.

 

“They tried to buy me,” the teenager whispered, as if not completely believing it had happened. “Mr. Hino gave me money to stay away from Rei.”

 

Her father just hugged her.

 

Usagi hadn't empathised with Rei regarding her father--she just hadn't been able to grasp it. The blonde had recognised the touchy subject, been aware of her Fire Senshi's virtual abandonment, but they had been mere facts to the Princess, facets of her best friend and love, not a bitter reality. Not the reality Rei had known. Usagi hadn't been able to pin down why the miko had loathed her own flesh and blood so much. Usagi hadn't been sure anybody, let alone a parent--your only parent--deserved that kind of hate. Nobody was wicked at heart. No human being, at least. Inside the worst of them, *somewhere*, there was good waiting to shine through. The Moon Princess had always believed that. She had been brought up that way in this life and the last to see the world as a place of wonders and compassion--it, and the people in it, worth saving. Suddenly the world was raw and real, as though the paint was flaking off of the picturesque, fantastical canvas to reveal the ugly, grey truth. It had lurked there always, masked beneath the surface of the blonde's own optimism and spirit, but Usagi had never glimpsed it until now. And it hadn't been the monsters behind the walls and in the shadows--it had been a man, a father, who had forced her to look.

 

Takashi Hino had watched Usagi and Rei for days or maybe weeks, had known that the girls were together, had to have known they were in love and happy--that his own daughter was happy despite everything she had suffered. Then he had dismissed his daughter's happiness. He had dismissed Usagi as unacceptable; crossed her out like an item on his timetable. Takashi Hino had tossed money at the teenager like it was scraps of food and she the starving, desperate and degenerate dog, eager to gobble up his favours. In one act he had marginalised everything that Usagi and Rei had fought and agonised to build. Usagi had never been discriminated against before; not like this. Were Ami and Makoto--Rei's other `negative influences'--getting similar visits? Usagi had held this fear inside ever since sharing that first breathtaking kiss with Rei--to be judged, to be thought of as sordid and damaged because of her choices and who brought her happiness. Usagi had assumed it would eventually come from a random stranger instead of from someone who had the same genes as the person who made her feel so wonderful every day. But maybe that was who Takashi Hino was--a stranger. A stranger that thought himself a parent. To call him Rei's father was a sham--he may have given the raven-haired teen life, but he was *not* her father. No father would do this. No father that knew and loved his daughter would rule her existence to fit his own agenda. Not the fathers Usagi knew.

 

“...Can I go see Rei?”

 

“Of course you can,” the blonde's Papa said gently.

 

Usagi walked out of the house to her Mama's outraged parting comment that she would certify that their family and their relatives, however distant, would never ever vote for Takashi Hino after this. She walked further, along the paving stone path to the small gate and onto the empty street. The sedan was gone, taking with them Takashi Hino's henchmen. She walked further still, down her street, through the narrow alleyways and shortcuts, across her neighbourhood. And then further, until the sun was melting into the horizon. It was several miles to the Hikawa Jinja, yet it was as if Usagi had blinked one second and then the Jinja's steps had materialised in front of her.

 

Usagi climbed the stairs. Luna padded and leapt through the forest's undergrowth closeby, but the black cat left her charge to her space. This half of the Moon Princess's life wasn't to do with world-threatening youma and an ancient destiny; however Luna was here not as guide, but as the loyal and supportive friend the blonde had forever had in her. Usagi sensed Luna near, taking from her presence what she could. But there was only one person that could truly heal what she was feeling right now.

 

Usagi reached the top as she had done a hundred times before in the past and through the torii her blue eyes saw what they had needed to see. A vision framed by the sacred red wood, standing in the Jinja's courtyard--the one Usagi had given her heart to.

 

In spite of everything before, Usagi was smiling.

 

The blonde walked over to Rei where the other girl was sweeping the grounds. Rei was in full miko garb; baggy white gi neatly tucked into the equally roomy red hakama. Rei took the role seriously--it was a family tradition.

 

Rei looked up, her broom no longer so diligent. “Usagi... I thought I felt....” The miko then smirked faintly and went back to brushing. “I thought we had decided you would stay home today,” she remarked, though there wasn't a lot of edge to it; more mirth. “It's late. Everybody's left. Everyone being Makoto. I think Minako is milking the modelling just to get out of homework. She wasn't even taking calls.” She raised her head from her chore to share another smirk with Usagi; however behind it the Princess could detect the hint of uncertainty. Minako hadn't been in class with Usagi today either. Usagi hoped her fellow blonde was okay and hadn't been hurt more seriously than she'd put on last night--a worry Rei no doubt felt too.

 

“It was fun, just Makoto and I,” the raven-haired girl continued, resuming her cleaning. “We can talk about our girlfriends, share stories. Makoto doesn't have much to complain about with Ami though....”

 

Rei glanced up after a moment of letting the comment sink in. She looked again then frowned, brush stopping outright. “Usagi, what's wrong? What's happened?”

 

Without a word, knowing none that felt right, Usagi took the cheque from her short's pocket. She presented it to Rei.

 

Rei, nonplussed and more than a little concerned, took the cheque and looked at it. It was her eyes that changed first as they read the signature. Then her face. The girl's hand closed into a fist, crushing the slip of paper. Her other hand squeezed her broom's handle, the bamboo creaking. Usagi thought for a second her Senshi of Fire was going to break it over her knee or hurl it across the courtyard. Somehow everything Rei must have felt was contained.

 

“I have to change.”

 

Abruptly Rei turned, storming towards the Hikawa Jinja's main building. As she stepped onto the veranda she banged the broom against the wall beside building's entrance, leaving it propped there, and flung open the sliding door with her other hand in the same motion; a second bang.

 

Slippers forsaken at the threshold, down the hall she marched and towards her bedroom, Usagi scuttling behind, that shoji screen door thrown out of her path as well with as much ceremony and care. Rei pulled out the bottom of her gi once inside, tearing it off and letting it drop on the floor. The hakama was followed, the ties undone until it slipped over hips and down her legs. She stepped out of it and moved to her dresser, ripping off her tabi socks before she got there.

 

“What....?” Usagi swallowed, the dry throat back. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I can only apologise, Usagi,” Rei said. Very evenly, very controlled--very at odds with her angry movements. The raven-haired teenager yanked open a drawer and starting shimmying into a pair of black jeans. “It's not about you.” Rei buttoned the jeans and grabbed what seemed to be the first top that came to hand. “It's never about anyone else...” she whispered, her gemstone eyes ablaze. She was still for a moment, just staring with those eyes. “I need to see him,” she then said, quickly pulling on the dark fitted t-shirt.

 

“I'll go with you,” Usagi said, stepping closer to hover around Rei.

 

“No,” Rei bluntly answered, walking past the blonde and back to her bedroom's entrance. “If my Grandpa asks, tell him I'll be back soon.”

 

With that she was gone. Usagi watched her Senshi of Fire and Passion go, stomach knotting, once again feeling that she was failing her love... and no longer caring how Takashi Hino had treated her, if only it would bring Rei back.

 

******

 

Ami rode the descending escalator, a Juuban High uniform squashed amid a mass of other sailor fukus and gakuran, shirts, ties and blazers representing a dozen or so other academies. Time had pushed well into the evening, but the sight of High School uniforms deep in the city of Tokyo wasn't an oddity. It had been a bright afternoon when Ami had attended cram school, and that it was night when she and the rest of her extracurricular classmates re-emerged into society was nearly a daily sight for them, and testament to their dedication. And sacrifice.

 

The Senshi of Wisdom still carried her school satchel like a salaryman carried a suitcase; like every other teenager beside her clutched theirs. The bags were heavier than most belonging to their peers at home or out having fun, stretching the pockets and testing the seams, full of additional textbooks and homework, stuffed with preparation for quizzes and exams that only mattered in a single high-rise afterschool classroom and nowhere else. Lifelines or burdens, it depended on who was asked. Some balked at anything less; balked at those peers at home or having fun, at those that didn't take their future and academics as seriously. Others, a smaller few, were conscious of the hours flittered away in yet another classroom in front of yet another board and teacher; hours that could have been spent with friends and family. They were painfully aware that this was a time of their life they would never relive, that youth was fleeting and needed to be savoured, and that perhaps the future should not overshadow the present. Which group was the wiser, Ami often found herself musing. Which was the richer?

 

The students surrounding Ami jostled for position on the escalator; impatient, intolerant, superior in thought to their neighbour. Ami knew their faces, but she didn't know their names and they didn't know hers. The brown-haired boy on the step below her, the lanky freckled-faced girl pressed against her shoulder; they and everyone else pouring out of the workshop were here for themselves. No one was here to talk. No one was here to make friends. Now that the cram session was over everyone was eager to leave, to devote their night to further worthwhile pursuits--home and immediate study. The Senshi of Wisdom recognised the looks on their faces. She had seen them before in the mirror... long ago.

 

The blue-haired girl smiled, the escalator guiding her into the high-rise building's bustling foyer. Education was the building's business, embedded in Tokyo like any other corporation's headquarters. Instead of offices there were classrooms, instead of salespersons there were lecturers. Once it had been a welcome retreat for Ami, the continuing equations and questions hypnotic stability, a place for thought yet not her thoughts. No talk had been a boon, no friends had been a relief--study at home a natural progression. Ami smiled because she was not like those around her. She smiled because she was different; that she was part of the smaller few. Ami smiled because the escalator was bringing her into the arms of Makoto.

 

Makoto hugged her; kissed her. Ami's classmates mostly ignored the exchange--or tried to appear to ignore it. They had seen it before every other evening after cram school these past months, yet still they glanced, they observed. Ami had noticed their astonishment the first time Makoto had been there to meet her--their shock that she, perhaps the best of them, was no longer one of them. Their reactions had been controlled of course, the change and spectacle beneath them, outside of their scholarly concerns. But they were still human, still teenagers somewhere in their hearts. No one waited for them. Life did not wait and they knew it. Ami and Makoto were a glimpse of something that wasn't calculable by an equation, wasn't something that could be earned through constant disciplined study. They knew it. Ami was proud to remind them, to tempt them with life, to show them that the present could be savoured just a little bit.

 

Makoto proposed dinner in the city and before long Ami was seated across from the tall brunette in a quaint booth in a quaint family restaurant, somewhere off the street in between the department stores and office skyscrapers. There was a dinner for the blue-haired girl at home, and a mother who waited to share it with her. But Ami chose not to go back home. Ami chose Makoto. She chose the street, the night. She chose the home away from home, which was a quaint booth in a quaint restaurant in the company of the person that loved her and her alone.

 

The girls talked; they smiled and laughed; they held hands and shared looks for only each other across the table. They talked of what was expected to come from teenage girls' lips; the minutia of school and their young lives, of their friend Minako's absence from Ami's class and yet another lament that Makoto was not part of that class; and they talked of the aberrant, the bizarre to a casual listener; of monsters underneath the city and their comrades-in-arms that had fought and bested them. Usagi had babbled her version of last night's adventures piecemeal at lunch, in lulls between classes, and sometimes in excited whispers *during* class--and with no Senshi of Beauty to contradict her Ami and Makoto had been subjected to a lengthy, yet somehow still sketchy, saga featuring a legion of youma, an underground earthquake that had toppled half of Tokyo above, and the brave four plus a cat that had beaten all the odds to snatch victory from certain, world-ending, defeat. Perhaps the inclusion of equally blonde Minako's retelling wouldn't have changed much in the story, however. Rei had ironed out the bubbly hyperbole with cold fact a little bit when she'd had Makoto's ear and prompting after school at the Hikawa Jinja, but from what the brunette had passed on to Ami it seemed the Senshi of Fire had been sketchy in her own way about the confrontation, so far as to appear reluctant with her blasé recount.

 

Epic struggle or not, Ami was simply relieved that her friends were alright. Yet the Senshi of Wisdom suspected it couldn't have been *that* dire if she and Makoto hadn't been summoned to throw themselves into the fracas. Although... handling a legion of youma with an earthquake bringing down buildings on their heads might have been an alternative to give pause when balanced against yesterday's dinner with Ami's girlfriend, Ami's mother, and Ami's mother's... whatever that man was.

 

The girls spoke of safe topics. Even the talk of the battle and youma was safe. It was Ami's doing; claws and carnage were preferable to home and family right now.

 

“I think the tart's all gone.”

 

“Hmm?” Ami looked up from her dessert plate and the small fork in her hand scraping at the pattern and wisps of cream. The conversation had faded as last night had intruded on her thoughts. She wished she had another dessert, that tonight's dinner wasn't winding down.

 

Makoto was looking at her sympathetically. The other girl knew what plagued her thoughts. “It wasn't that bad.”

 

For a second Ami wondered if Makoto had been present at the same `family' dinner she had been at yesterday. But thinking back, recalling every excruciating moment spent in the company of her mother and... `Takeru', perhaps it hadn't been *that* bad. The food had been appetising, and the banter civil if a tad stiff. Moreover Makoto had been a guest, a more-than-friendly face, despite the awkward discussion the brunette had the potential of provoking. And Takeru had been... nice.

 

Yet... there had always been an undercurrent of... *something*. In the beginning Ami had attributed it to the tension of the whole dynamic between everyone at the dining table; daughter and her secret girlfriend, mother and her not-so-secret... friend. There was a tinge of something else however, in the apartment and in the air; beneath every look from the stranger at the table, under every smile from the man who was suddenly there in their lives. Makoto hadn't seemed to pick up on it, and neither had the Senshi of Water's mother, but....

 

Takeru Sakai's tone had been genial, his handsome countenance free with hospitable grins. The young man had talked, complimented Ami... but those grins... had they reached his eyes? Were his compliments a touch snide; were his comments about Makoto and her association with Ami intentional innuendo or purely coincidence? Who was this person? What did Ami or her mother know about him?

 

Ami closed her eyes, carefully putting the dessert fork down. She was being irrational. She was allowing her uneasiness about the situation to control her. The Senshi of Wisdom debated whether she was hunting for faults and conspiracies where there were none; where there was only a man who happened to care for a woman. Logically Ami knew this, yet she couldn't rid herself of the feeling. After all, the woman was her mother.

 

The short-haired teenager picked up the fork, tasting the creamy residue that still clung to its prongs. “What did you think of him?”

 

“Takeru?” Makoto shrugged a shoulder ambivalently while taking a contemplative sip of her juice through its straw. “He's a guy,” she remarked, as if Takeru was indistinguishable from any other adult. “He's alright looking. Your mother seems to like him.” The Senshi of Courage's right eyebrow lifted slightly, her green gaze on Ami across the table. “No alarm bells, if that's what you're asking me. Why? Did you get a vibe?”

 

Ami wearily exhaled, putting the fork down again. “No. Not really.” She sighed again and sat back into her seat, turning her head aside. “I'm not sure. I *know* I'm being unfair, but...” The Senshi of Water and Wisdom met her girlfriend's eyes. “I don't like him.”

 

Surprisingly, Makoto smiled. “In your shoes, I don't think anybody would.” She took a moment to study Ami, her smile indulgent and faintly sad. “Let me ask--is there anyone you *would* be happy to see your mother with?”

 

“It's not that,” Ami started to argue, quickly piecing together where her girlfriend was going with this. Underneath the taller girl's knowing look however, Ami felt her back to the wall. “My father,” she softly confessed. Ami didn't know him. He was a faceless figure, a paragon of everything she imagined a father to be--a fantasy. Not real.

 

The melancholy in Makoto's tender smile pushed to the surface and an understanding passed between the two girls. Of course. Makoto could appreciate Ami's sentiment. The brunette was strong and independent, a role model for every other high schooler. Some envied her, wished for her freedoms, while the wiser had sympathy for her. Makoto had no father too--but also didn't have a mother. She'd never known either of her parents.

 

There was understanding between the pair of girls, but Ami soon felt ashamed. There was hope for a whole family for her--there would never be for Makoto. Ami had a mother that loved her, and to build on so to speak with the prospect of a step-father one day, and perhaps even siblings. Makoto would always be alone.

 

Ami reached for the brunette's hand, taking it in hers. No, not alone.

 

“I know what it's like to be lonely,” Makoto said, before squeezing the Senshi of Water's hand. “And I know what it's like not to be.” Her green eyes spoke, grateful and adoring, accepting and devoted; dozens of emotions that made up a single one; the one Ami felt in return.... And one that maybe her mother felt too.

 

“I'm being selfish...” Ami breathed, casting her gaze away from Makoto's and down at the table underneath the weight of the disgraceful truth.

 

“Your mother just wants what we have. I know you wouldn't deny anyone, least of all her, this feeling.”

 

Ami hadn't thought to calculate that her mother could be in love with Takeru. That her mother's feelings weren't flippant and something to be disregarded; that it wasn't about *Ami* and how the teenager felt. Her mother was a person--Ami had to face that fact. She couldn't hide from it anymore, couldn't pretend that Saeko Mizuno was born a parent--not if she claimed to really care about her mother.

 

“The guy is probably having a tough time worrying about you too, you know,” Makoto continued. “His girlfriend has a daughter not that younger than him. Suddenly he's part of your life and thrust into the role of a surrogate parent. He probably doesn't know how to treat you, or how you'll react, or if you'll hate him. And that if you hate him, if it means your mother is forced to hate him as well no matter how she really feels.” The Senshi of Thunder and Courage shrugged dismissively once more, although her smile for the smaller girl was meaningful. “I don't know, maybe you could give him a chance.”

 

Ami looked up and smiled with the brunette, rather ruefully. “You're smart, Makoto,” she noted, appreciative for the sage advice.

 

“No,” Makoto replied, shaking her head, ponytail wagging. “*You're* smart. I'm just saying what you already know in your heart.”

 

They kept their grins, and each other's gazes, until the bill arrived.

 

Ami walked home by herself. She didn't have to; Makoto was seldom an unwilling escort; but she made the choice. It would not be the last of the night. Ami would choose to look her mother's boyfriend in the eye when she got back to the apartment and saw him there. She would choose to utter Takeru's name aloud, to his face and in her mother's presence. She would choose to acknowledge Takeru's existence, to talk about him when her mother did, to not pretend that he wasn't in their lives. She would choose for Takeru to not be a stranger. She would choose for her mother to be a person. Ami would choose for her mother to be happy.

 

Makoto had done her part and had her own home to go back to. Ami had to do her part now--there was no one who could do it for her. The Senshi of Wisdom would extend the olive branch, be the good daughter, and accept change like she'd been taught how. Ami walked alone to sort her thoughts and prepare herself, to confront a challenge that only she could overcome, yet she didn't feel alone. Nearby in this city Makoto walked towards her own apartment, thinking of Ami as Ami thought of her. Their paths weren't always shared, but they were always together.

 

The blue-haired teenager's mobile phone chimed. She smiled. She smiled again when she read the good luck message from Makoto.

 

Ami lingered a moment outside her apartment door, fingertips on the handle. She knew what she had to do, however that did not mean she wasn't nervous to do it. The Senshi of Water had faced down demons and dangers of the like few scarcely dared invent, with valour any storybook hero would be proud of, but *this*--*life*--was a trial like none other. Youma were a straightforward challenge, to be attacked and attacked until the evil was vanquished. Schoolwork was the same; simple; facts and figures succumbing to rote and repetition. Yet life was something else.

 

Ami unlocked the door and entered, the metal door swinging closed with announcing racket at her back. She took off her shoes and walked down the hall. It could be that Takeru wasn't here this evening. It could be that it was only her mother waiting for her. It was getting on in hours, and--

 

“Ami! I have fantastic news!”

 

The teen was immobilised two steps past the threshold into the living area, pinned suddenly like game caught in a snare. Takeru *was* here. He held Ami's mother's hands, the pair facing each other near the dining table. They gazed at one another, the slight glaze to their eyes disturbingly reminiscent of Ami's memories of herself and Makoto and the girls' special moments together.

 

Ami swallowed with effort and willed herself to remember her girlfriend's advice, to hear Makoto speak it again in her mind. Ami would be strong not for herself but for Saeko Mizuno.

 

She managed a smile. “What news?”

 

There was an excited glance from Ami's mother to Takeru before her eyes went back to her daughter. Ami could hardly recall her mother ever being so... bubbly. “We're moving to Hokkaido!”

 

It took a moment. Several moments. Ami blinked during those moments, swallowed, then blinked some more. “What?” was all she could muster from her throat.

 

“Saeko's found a job there,” Takeru spoke up, as merry as Ami's mother it appeared. “In a small village. It's very peaceful. I grew up there.”

 

Ami's brow twisted, her head trying to process this... this... blindside. “H-How?” She shook her head to rattle some comprehension to the fore. Still the words came laboriously, pulled from mud that had become her mind. “There's a Level One Trauma Centre there?”

 

“No, Ami. I'm going into Family Practice,” the girl's mother replied. It was as if an alien spoke.

 

“`Family Practice?'” Ami repeated in amazement. And horror. She could not believe it. Simply could *not* believe it. Her mother giving up surgery in Tokyo to be a General Practitioner in the middle of nowhere? “But... but... you *love* surgery,” she said, stated, as if reciting a pure undeniable, unchangeable fact of Saeko Mizuno's life.

 

“Your mother's tired, Ami,” Takeru revealed. Ami's head swung to him mechanically at the sound of his voice, her mouth hanging open. “Being a surgeon is very demanding.”

 

Ami's head swung back to her mother. “Then... take a break. A holiday.” This was her idol. Her inspiration. Her motivation for wanting to pursue an education in medicine after High School, for a career in the operating theatre. This was Ami's role model quitting.

 

The woman that looked like her mother shook her head sadly. “I've been thinking about this for a while.” The woman smiled again. “We can spend more time together now.”

 

“So we're just... moving?” Ami stuttered. “What about... about getting a position here?”

 

“In Tokyo? Ami, you must know how competitive it is, even if I open my own practice.”

 

Takeru looked at Ami with a warm, sympathetic face. “I think she doesn't want to leave her special friend. Makoto, wasn't it?”

 

“She'll make new friends,” the woman said, still smiling that empty smile, her dead eyes for the red-haired young man.

 

Ami stared at them. She didn't have to ask if Takeru was moving with them. Had it been his idea? Did its seed lie with him? Takeru's grin... was it a sneer? Was his remark coincidental... or contrived? Were his eyes warm... or afire? Who was this stranger? Who were *these* strangers?

 

“I have homework,” Ami said, not recognising her own voice. She went for her room.

 

Door closed behind her inside her familiar sanctuary, it was as though Ami had suddenly found air to breath. She panted, deep, heavy, panicked breaths. Her schoolbag fell out of her grasp. Like a fading ghost she walked to her bed and carefully laid herself on it. Huddled on her side, the girl brought her knees to her chest. In her hand was her phone. Her lifeline. Ami was never alone.

 

The teenager dialled. She heard the phone click followed by the voice of normality. She heard Makoto say her name, ask if she was there, ask what was wrong.

 

“What do we really know about him?” Ami said softly.

 

******

 

The National Diet Building; the seat of Japan's politics. It was where the House of Representatives and House of Councillors assembled to discuss and argue, the grey, blocky building as staid as the Diet's meetings no doubt were. It was mostly European in style, a scattering of round pillars and a couple of fountains to break up the sharp-angled monotony, yet even they were severe; rigid, characterless--the building's facade seemed stuck on the dreariness of what occurred inside its walls. It was not a place of beauty, unlike the Imperial Palace not too distant from here, elsewhere in Chiyoda-ku. The Diet Building was its antithesis, each distinctive landmark allegories of figurehead romantic royal rule and the real power of blunt democratic government.

 

The National Diet Building was many things. To Rei it was none of them. To her it was a home, a house. But not her home, not her house. It was a fortress to be laid siege upon, to be conquered through force of will. Never visited by choice, it was a place that, whenever she found herself standing before it, she stood as though she faced an enemy, with steely gaze and steelier nerves. It was a stern, joyless place, cold and emotionless--like the man that dwelled within. A man that was a part of her, in name and blood, but *nothing* else. The National Diet Building was the seat of Japan's politics, of the country's power. To Rei it was the seat of Takashi Hino's power, of a father's power over his daughter.

 

Rei's throat worked down a hard swallow and she walked past the gardens of perfectly trimmed and cornered hedges--no flowers, no colour. Barely gardens really, meagre islands of dull greenery in the middle of overpowering grey asphalt, nature an afterthought at best. The miko walked up the building's stone steps and through the foreboding four pillars before the main entrance--foreboding purely on account of her long memory of them, of what was beyond them, of what they represented. This place was in Rei's memories as far back to when she'd first formed memories. This place was her father's lover, his mistress; where his heart truly rested. It was everything Takashi Hino was inside. It was everything Rei hated.

 

“I'm sorry Miss; the building's closed to the public. Tour times are nine to four.”

 

The uniformed guard just inside the foyer sized her up with a quizzical eye, probably speculating how a teenager like Rei had gotten this far into government grounds this late in the evening; specifically past his colleagues at the front gate.

 

“My name is Rei Hino. Diet member Takashi Hino is my father.” The raven-haired girl lifted the visitor's pass pinned to her jeans' pocket the guard hadn't noticed.

 

The man nodded, tipping his policeman's cap to the Senshi of Fire after a moment's consideration. Rei's lips twitched, half her face rebelling as she fought back a sneer. The front gate's guards had reacted the same. Rei wasn't well-known, but what was well-known was that prominent political figure Takashi Hino did have a teenage daughter. The girl didn't like to acknowledge the link out loud, however her family name *did* open doors. Regardless, Rei had been expected tonight--and perhaps every other night since her father's minions had begun terrorising her for her attention. There had been an ID left at security outside the National Diet Building and direction to let her through should she show. The crisp white envelope with the crisp white card, her name handwritten on both in a pen she knew, had been waiting for her as well.

 

Rei's father had known she would be coming, one way or another. His arrogant presumption for the success of his hollow father-daughter evening out had tested the careful control Rei only *just* had on her temper, despite the fact she'd likely not have gained admittance into a secure government estate otherwise. The Fire Senshi almost *wanted* it to have been difficult, to have to scream and rage at the top of her lungs and from the bottom of her soul, to have to fight her way in past guards and whatever else ran to stop her--for the opportunity to unleash *everything* that was somehow still confined inside her right now, boiling and burning, a hurricane of fire and feeling.

 

But no. Not here. Not yet. To scream and rage now would be a fatal mistake. To fight now was to lose. And Rei would not lose to him. What she felt was an explosion; ignited, ticking; but timed to detonate when she saw the whites of her father's eyes and not before. To that end she had summarily torn the envelope and card in half, swallowed every fierce emotion coursing through her down with the bile, and taken the ID. Her moment would come.

 

Rei walked to the reception desk manned by a solitary figure; a woman in a suit and skirt that seemed a little tired and ruffled, with pulled back hair that had begun to slacken from its bun, and who regarded the miko with strained eyes as she approached. The edges of the last remaining receptionist were rough from a full day of work and night creeping in outside, but she still managed a professionally polite smile for Rei. This was a government building after all.

 

“Takashi Hino. His office?”

 

Rei had an image of her father's office in her mind, but the image was old, accredited to a child. Takashi Hino was moving up in the world, and no doubt his office had moved with him, following his heights.

 

“I believe he may have left for the evening,” the receptionist said, taking a glance at the foyer's wall clock to confirm. “Committee meetings and plenary sessions have ended for the day, and most members of the Diet will have returned to their dormitories after 8pm.”

 

“He's here,” Rei declared without an ounce of uncertainty.

 

“I... can check the system to see when his keycard has last been used...” the woman replied a touch nervously under the Fire Senshi's stare, all but asking the teenager if that was something that would appease her.

 

“Just take me to his office,” Rei said. Her voice wasn't one you argued with.

 

The receptionist escorted the raven-haired girl to an elevator and down hallways, through stairwells and lounges, keeping a metre or so ahead at all times. The woman's pace was brisk, her high heels pummelling the carpeting and the fabric of her skirt swishing constantly like the lashings of a whip. It was as if she appreciated the fire at her back, sensing it throughout.

 

Rei picked out the office before they reached it--the biggest at the end of the hall, where a secretary still worked despite the dark and empty rooms everywhere else. In an instant the Senshi of Fire and Passion's emotions seethed, almost engulfing her, but she bottled the flames yet again. They would not hold, however. Her time had come.

 

Rei increased her stride, whisking past the receptionist and the secretary, the latter barking at the Fire Senshi's abrupt intrusion like the pet dog she was. Rei shut the office door on their stunned faces.

 

Her father was there, chained to his desk, a willing slave. It could have been any day in the past ten years, if not for the new office. His hair was as black as Rei's, the grey not having taken root quite yet, and his face was clean-shaven as befitting someone of his political station. He looked up from his life's work. “A t-shirt and jeans is what you wear for dinner?” he gruffly remarked, the first words out of his mouth a criticism of course.

 

Rei balled her right fist tighter. She walked into the middle of the office. With a snap of her arm she threw a wad of crushed paper from her fist onto the desk, it rolling atop her father's precious paperwork before stopping just before the table's edge.

 

Takashi Hino glared at it before picking it up and unravelling the ball. He snorted at what was revealed. His face was unchanged. No expression whatsoever, bar that stern, hard-lined frown. He was a stone, a brick akin to any other in this building.

 

“You can't buy her,” Rei growled. Her eyes would have set fire to the room if they were able. “She's not someone from your world.”

 

Rei's father gradually relaxed back in his reclining leather chair, arms slung over the armrests, leaving the wrinkled cheque laid out on his desk. He regarded Rei like only a father could regard a child. He made her small, petty, juvenile; her every word and gesture that of an infantile tantrum, beneath adult--*his*--concern, barely worth impatient indulgence. Rei despised that it was so effective in cutting her down, getting under her skin.

 

“If you want to talk about *my* life, you come to *me*,” Rei continued on, beginning to snarl, fists clenching together with her jaw. The anger kept her going, gave her momentum before his scorn. “*Face*-to-*face*, so I can tell you it *is* *my* *life*.”

 

“I have responsibilities,” Takashi Hino intoned, his voice weary with fatherly patience. Patience that did a poor job of masking a patronising undercurrent. He played the part of the generous, supportive, wounded father--but he could never keep it up for long. Rei had been here before, had this conversion a million times--he could fool his friends, his colleagues, outsiders, but not her. Rei knew the real man, knew the real father. “I have people that rely on me. You can have your `face-to-face' when I invite you. If you will not come when I say to come, *what* am I supposed to do?” His voice began to clip, more condescending, rising sharply as genuine feeling trampled the charade. Takashi Hino was an effective politician everywhere except in front of his only daughter. “My work leaves me with little time for family.”

 

“I know,” Rei acknowledged darkly.

 

“You are here now. Tell me about `your life'. Tell me about the embarrassment you're bringing on our family.”

 

“This isn't a family,” Rei shot back, venom dripping. “*You* saw to that.” She watched as her father's lips compressed into a thin line. “The only person embarrassed is *you*. And *you* don't matter.”

 

The miko's father slammed his palm against his desk, the bang thundering through the room and whatever decorum lingered. Rei didn't move a muscle, familiar with the man's outbursts. While never physical with her, he utilised violence in no less intimidating fashion. Rei knew his game. She knew never to give in, to never *be* intimidated. She could deny him his power with her own resolve.

 

“You don't think I care?!” Takashi Hino shouted. His eyes were copies of Rei's; burning gemstones; yet his face was still carved from rock. “You don't think I care when you engage in *sickening* acts?! You're *perverting* yourself! Wasting your life! Ruining it!”

 

“You only care about my life when it suits you; when it affects you!” the raven-haired girl screamed back, over his yelling. “You don't know me! You're not a part of my life! You just know what *you* want, and try to force it on me!”

 

“What do you intend to do with your life?! *WHAT*?! I pay for your tuition at the *best* school that would have you! I put a *roof* over your head and those *clothes* on your back! I--!”

 

“I never asked to go to that school! I never wanted *anything* from you! You pay for it because it was what *you* wanted! It's my *grandfather* that looks after me!”

 

“*My* father-in-law can't even look after himself without *me*! Who do you think donates to the Hikawa Jinja to keep you fed and warm?! Do you think that senile old man has *any* money?! He's a *dreamer* that never amounted to anything; I've always said so, and I was right! And he's bringing you down with him!”

 

It wasn't really about Usagi. The Senshi of Passion's girlfriend was the catalyst, but it was the same fight on repeat, the old fires relit. Rei and her father screamed and shouted atop one another on and on, scrambled rage, one argument threading into the next, each trying to conquer the other with their own hotter temper and louder vocals. Neither Hino gave an inch. Even when Rei was taken aback by her father's previously unknown contribution to the Hikawa Jinja's coffers she sustained her attack, defending her Grandpa, defending her way of life, defending everything she was while countering everything the man opposite her said; the lies and half-truths and misconstrued realities--all made to paint her in the worst light possible, as the worst daughter there was, and Takashi Hino the most dedicated and loving father to put up with her.

 

“I thought living as a miko would keep you pure and on the right path. How wrong I was. I allowed you to live as you wish and *this* is how you turn out? You don't want my money? You don't want my help?! Then I'll cancel your enrolment in that `school you hate' tomorrow morning and be *done* with you! See how long you last out there without a diploma! After selling yourself on the street you will *beg* for me!”

 

“I'm not your property, I'm not your doll, I'm not one of your yes-men!” Rei shrieked above her father's threats. Her eyes stung, her face was wet. Her heart and soul spoke for her, rational thought and self-control blind in the inferno. “I won't be my mother! I won't let you decide for me! I won't let you trap me in what *you* desire! I won't let you dictate my life!”

 

“Your mother,” Takashi Hino muttered, his bluster dipping slightly. It was a short dip. “What would she think of you? What would she think of you and this girl? She'd want you to marry; she'd want you to--!”

 

“Why would you care what she thinks?!” Rei howled, nearly doubling over to push the words out with everything that she could, her throat hoarse with tears and fury. “You *never* cared*! You never cared about her! You don't have *any* right to talk about her! You *LEFT* her! You left her *ALONE* when she needed you the most! You left *ME*! I *HATE* you!”

 

Rei's final scream echoed around the office, both parties brought to silence; a ceasefire; the fire having burned itself out for the time being. Rei was drained. She'd battled dozens of monsters for hours on end, only to battle hundreds more the next day; to the brink of fatigue and death she'd saved the world--but she'd felt no weight dragging on her shoulders then like she did now. The girl felt if she took a step she would stagger, that if she took another heavy breath her lungs would split. Her mind was a haze, the spent anger leaving a void in its wake.

 

But her spirit was there. Her will. Rei didn't wipe her tears. She pretended they weren't there, shining on her cheeks. Rei didn't want her father to see her do it. She didn't want to give him any sort of victory, despite the obvious streaks to her features. Besides, the tears weren't for him. Nor were they for herself.

 

Takashi Hino knew who they were for.

 

“Usagi's great,” Rei said out of the blue, staring into space. She clung to the thought of her Princess, letting her love give her strength, letting the girl fill her mind when there was nothing else left. Rei smiled softly in spite of everything. “You don't know her. She's fun. And cute. And beautiful. Seeing her smile is like... watching a sunrise and knowing it's something special in this world. She's kind and good, and a friend like no one else.” Rei let out a small chuckle. “She's clumsy, and dizzy, and cheery. She's everything my life was missing. I love her. I won't betray her. Not for anything. Not for money, not for duty, not for myself. Not for you. I'm not like you.”

 

There were fresh tears. This time for another someone. This time for happiness. Rei wore them proudly.

 

Rei turned her head to her father, focusing on him and the room around her again through the tears. “Leave us alone,” she said, without any malice or demand. It was just a straightforward direction, spoken in a straightforward tone, suggesting that to do anything else would be simply at odds with everything natural in the world.

 

Rei walked out of the office. If her father said more she didn't hear it. If his frenetic secretary said anything she wasn't aware of it. If the deployed security staff said anything she didn't know of it. Rei's father always had the power. He always had a say. He always had the last word. But not in this moment. This moment was Rei's. This moment she had triumphed. This moment she was free, she was in love, and Usagi and her would live happily ever after.

 

By the time Rei got back to the Hikawa Jinja darkness had well and truly fallen. The stars were out, and the moon with them. The latter's Princess sat underneath its ethereal glow, on the steps of the Jinja's veranda.

 

Rei stopped for a moment in the courtyard when she saw Usagi waiting for her. She didn't know why she was surprised to see that vision in the moonlight, sitting on her doorstep, but the Fire Senshi was. Of course Usagi would have waited. That the blonde waited for *Rei*, perhaps, was what was surprising even now.

 

“What happened? Where did you go? Did you talk to...?”

 

Rei was quiet as she walked on over to her Princess, until she took a seat beside her on the stairs. “My father and I rarely `talk'.”

 

“Oh...” Usagi breathed, getting the grisly picture. She fidgeted for a couple of seconds. “I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't really that big of a deal.”

 

Rei shook her head, staring out across the Hikawa Jinja's courtyard at the wooden torii and the surrounding forest. “It was. And *I'm* sorry. I didn't want you to be exposed to... this. I didn't want you to know... to have this... *disease* in your life. It's not your burden to bear.”

 

“No, Rei...” Usagi said tenderly, placing her hand on the miko's forearm and squeezing. “I want it to be. I don't want you to think you have to do everything by yourself. I want to be there. I want to be someone you can count on.”

 

Rei turned her gaze to the blonde, simply regarding the heartfelt girl for a while. Her father could never understand Usagi. They were truly worlds apart. “Whatever was said to you wasn't true. Whatever they, he--”

 

Usagi stopped her girlfriend's rush of worry with a smile and a nod. “I know big bullies when I see them.”

 

Rei grinned ruefully, and idly stroked the silky flaxen strands that fell past her love's cheek. Not so much the fragile Princess.

 

“...What's going to happen?”

 

Rei sighed, reluctantly recalling her father's threats. “He could be all talk. It probably is. He shouts and yells and makes a huge drama, but hardly ever follows through on anything afterwards. It's too much effort for him I guess. It would mean he had to care.” Rei didn't know that for sure, though. She never knew for sure. With that doubt her father reigned over her long after their clashes had concluded. Even living apart from him she lived in fear of him. Moreover, this was the first instance Rei had ever had a lover of the same sex to vex him so. “We might have to tighten our belts around the Jinja,” she grudgingly confessed. “High School might be out early this year for me too.”

 

“It's okay, Rei. Your Grandpa will let you stay here no matter what, I know it!” Usagi assured the raven-haired teenager. “And... and you can just go to public school.... With me! And with Ami and everyone else! It might even be great!” She spoke with such optimism it was hard to consider anything not working out just fine. But like Takashi Hino, Rei Hino lived in a different world to Usagi. A world of realities and tragedies, where terrible things just happened with no rhyme or reason, where justice was rare and fairytales stayed just that--fairytales.

 

“I hate him,” Rei said quietly into the night air.

 

“No Rei, don't say that...” Usagi whispered at her side.

 

“He's everything that's bad inside me,” the Senshi of Fire and Passion persisted in spite of the blonde's distressed visage and pained eyes. “When I see him, I can see why I am like I am. It reminds me that he's a part of me; that what he is *I* can be as well. That potential. That curse.” Rei looked desperately at Usagi, as pained as other girl. “I don't want to be like him.”

 

Usagi hugged Rei, quick and close. “You're not, Rei. You won't be. You won't ever be.”

 

Rei clung to the other girl fiercely. If Rei turned out alright, it would be because of *this*. It would be because of Usagi and what she felt for her. It would be because of love, *real* love, and the belief of a Princess. Because fairytales *did* come true. Because Rei had one right now, in her arms, holding her; loving her. There was no question that Rei's father could never break them up. Rei and Usagi's hard-fought future would never be pulled apart by the mundane, by the cheap machinations of a bigot and tyrant. Takashi Hino couldn't hope to comprehend this love. He couldn't hope to understand what had been put at stake for two hearts, what had been sacrificed, what had been endured. He couldn't hope to know that *because* of this girl, *because* of this love, his daughter was pure and on the right path.

 

Most of all, he couldn't hope to take it away from Rei.

 

No one could.

 

******

 

To be continued....

 

 

Author's ramblings:

 

I channelled a lot of personal parental angst for this one.

 

Yankee = Slang for a teenage delinquent

Shinai = Bamboo sword

Omiai = In a nut shell, a meeting arranged between people for the purpose of sizing one another up for marriage.

Gakuran = Male school uniform