Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Pretty Soldiers ❯ Act 17 - black � moon � calaveras : Sailorvenus ( Chapter 17 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

They stood in knee-deep muck, surrounded by what was left of the violent rosebush. Still momentarily blinded by the bright light that had only just abated, they rubbed their eyes fiercely to not only regain vision, but to try and clean away the dust that was creeping beneath their lids. "Whatever this thing was, it seemed very keen on eating us," the blonde remarked sourly as she shuffled a toe in a particularly deep pile of dust.
A few rose petals, dried and crispy and the colour of aged blood, still lay scattered at random around them. Picking a few up, the other soldier sifted them through her hands, crumbling them between her gloved palms as she frowned. "Unusual…and not the work we've come to expect. Perhaps the enemy has taken a new approach?"
"We waited too long." The blonde retrieved one of her gloves from where it had fallen, ripped off in the battle and lying forlorn on the ground. "The enemy has established itself too tightly in Tokyo….if only we could realize their true plan, we could prevent the final tragedy." She pulled the glove on as she spoke, only to realize, as she still felt cold air against her fingers, that it had been almost artfully ripped apart to expose each digit and most of her palm. Grunting, she doggedly adjusted it anyway.
Smiling, her ally took the dismembered glove and the hand it encased, kissing the open palm as she said, "Together, it's possible. Remember the mission, and the true happiness we protect, and it will happen." The blonde smiled, almost wickedly.
"You're always the optimistic one, Neptune."
"It gives you something to aspire towards. Ne?"

She could remember the storm so clearly.
Always had she loved to watch the lightning flash through the windows of the house as a baby, laughing at the boom and rumble that invariably followed. Her mother, by contrast, had been terrified at the sound, and often sought refuge in bed with a pillow and blankets over her head; her father, who was apathetic about such storms, often propped Makoto up on his knee to better watch the sizzling streaks of white.
The house had been company-owned, her father the head cook for a French restaurant in the Ginza that had survived - outrageous prices and all - for almost half a century. A gift for his excellent skills, the house was tasteful and more than enough room for a dirty-kneed Makoto to run rampant, bouncing on the furniture and the luxury of American feather beds. In a city so cramped, its land clutched greedily by those who could afford it, such housing was also a necessity for many families, but they had been particularly blessed with such a near-palatial three story, counting the roomy attic, and its neat front and back lawn.
But too often she found herself alone in its emptiness, cared for by one of her father's coworkers as he and her mother gallivanted off with the local church group to preach the wonders of Christianity. Weekends were often echoing the silence off her eardrums; by Sunday night they would be back, fierce in their convictions and ready to dress her for a midnight mass. She often lived in a mild state of terror for such a night, with its constant boredom and garbled sermons, preached in English for the mostly-American congregation; in deliberate defiance had she ignored any and all attempts to absorb the harsh language.
Sometimes they flew to other cities, even countries, to protest the treatment of their beliefs, or to lay eyes on a holy relic that further strengthened their righteousness. They once took her with them to watch the Pope baptize selected children during a particular holy mass - had it been Christmas? Maybe Easter; the smattering of holidays often ran into a blur in her memory - and her mother had begun crying. When her father told her she could have had a brother to play with had they not miscarried before her, that she was named for the boy they never had, it made a strange, bitter sense.
And it was this loss that allowed their separate families, neither stranger to the lax acceptance of the three main religions of the islands, to tolerate their children's strange insistence that a straggly-bearded white man's brutal death was in some way superior. After all, what was the crucifixion but another bloody ritual sacrifice to a god for salvation? Makoto's aunt, something of a liberal herself, would laugh whenever her sister brought the topic up. They were all the same, any religion, she would retort; bloody superstitions, violent and cruel.
But the catalyst had been at the funeral of an uncle, when her mother had denounced the tiny shrine holding his picture as a pagan's altar, her uncle a false idol of worship. The table itself she had pronounced fit for mere eating, nothing more, and she swept the framed photo away as if to cleanse the entire thing, to smash on the floor.
That had been when Makoto was five. And though her mother's family had witnessed the event and so turned them away, her father's family - of whom only a sister, two brothers, his mother, and an aunt remained - continued to receive them. But when they were all killed in a fire that started in the minshuku they ran near Fuji, Makoto found herself very alone.
And so it would be a new cook from the restaurant who would keep her company, send her to school on Saturday morning. Waiters would have her dancing in the living room, trying to walk with correct posture as they did, carrying books in lieu of a tray. Setting the table properly with silverware and napkin and tablecloth; greeting guests with the precise amount of respect they required. She dreamed of being a woman of gentle presence, of following in the footsteps of a particular waitress who watched her quite often, with her pretty smiles and demure attitude and constant whiff of soft rose perfume. Often she tried on her mother's lovely clip-on rose earrings in imitation of her idol, flouncing about her bedroom.
It had been that woman who had watched the storm with her, a black, violent affair of the likes Makoto had never seen before; it rent open the sky with fury, shutting off the lights as it hit several towers. Rain fell in solid sheets, drowning several caught on the open bay in their small fishing boots, and even some hail dented cars before it was finished. Primal and vicious, Makoto had pressed her nose to the glass, breathing in as the electricity seared her soul, the light her eyes, feeling the very element itself as it was born in the clouds and spat from the sky. It spoke to her, as it always had something important to tell her, just like the wind through the trees, but that particular time had been unusual; as if the sky itself were in mourning.
The next day she had woken up thinking about how beautiful the day was, the ugliness of the storm having been wiped away. Knowing her parents would be home in a few hours she had dressed in her favourite rose pink jumper with its leafy embroidery and bounced down the stairs to find two policemen standing in her doorway. Crying as if the world had ended on the couch was her babysitter, who clung to her like a monkey as the youngest officer told her.
Her parents had gone to China to protest the Communist regime, a very dangerous and stupid thing for any Japanese citizen to do, something her father's employer had pleaded with them not to do. But they had gone, and, having to flee the police for causing a disturbance, had been too late to catch their early flight back to Tokyo. Instead, they had taken a later flight, flying directly into the storm that had grown around them; and the lightning took its full fury out on the commercial steel, slamming them into Asama Mountain.
How rarely lightning brought down such planes.
Against the wishes of their church, Makoto saw them again in a simple ceramic urn, almost unbelievably light to contain two bodies. Painted merely with the stylistic kanji for heaven, she had to hide when those same members came to the door, wanting if not demanding to at least bury them in the communal cemetery, one of a handful in the entire city.
She refused.
Even as the social worker took her away, a silent child of seven years, she had clutched the urn in her arms as tightly as she dared. The entire contents of the house had been liquidated, put into a fund for her to receive on her sixteenth birthday. Unused to the constant lack of distinction in the orphanage, the complete loss of love, she began to fight against her attackers when they came to torment her. Never one to truly raise her fists in anger, she found herself adept at wielding them, backed into the corners.
The lightning stopped talking to her for many years, though it was from her ignoring it more than anything, like an unused arm withering away from lack of use. She would touch the urn, remember the power that had taken them from her, and she refused to acknowledge it, feeling a masochistic pleasure in her hollow emptiness. Her life was now dedicated to surviving the indifferent world of the orphan, though she found herself almost totally unfit for social life when the last of her foster families thrust her into it.
But when she heard the lightning whisper to her, that lonely day in the cold, miserable rain, kami-sama…she had been whole again.
At the moment, though, she felt dead, buried, and rotted. Her lungs hurt when she took a deep breath; no, scratch that; it was more her ribs. Blood was crusted on her lip, and she felt its crumbly weight in several places, her skirt and bodice shredded from the window. Uncanny how she had such a knack for managing to lose even the meager uniform she was saddled with.
Yet she was awake after the darkness that had swallowed her up so surely on the roof, taking away the pain and nausea from her enforced spin and tussle. On her back, she opened her eyes to see what looked to be a neon rainbow above her head, though as insubstantial as a soap bubble; the slight sensation of pressure, like hundreds of crawling ants, was growing insistent on her skin. She lifted her hand slowly to see the arc and crackle of static electricity, each small spark coinciding with a tremble in the rainbow. An electric, imperfect, imposed stasis shield. It had to be; with its weakening, she felt the fog clearing in her mind, the enforced sleep wafting away.
She concentrated and smiled as the rainbow completely disappeared, allowing her to painfully sit up. The smile wavered at the sight of the room she was trapped in; an egg-shaped, smooth-walled room barely bigger than her living room, it was silvery and almost featureless except for what looked to be an opaque viewing window and possibly a control panel straight out of an American sci-fi movie. In front of it stood the arrogant, red-haired bastard she had seen twice before, his back thankfully turned towards her in a posture of obvious impatience. "I despise this mode of travel. Lugging this heap of wreck through time so slowly, I have to be the delivery man!"
Time? She shook her head; obviously, her hearing had been damaged as well. She slid from the raised platform, stumbling slightly down the single step to angrily stare at his head. Disoriented slightly still from pain, using her powers in an unknown environment was a risk she wouldn't take; her boot squeaked on the smooth floor as she threw herself forward, giving Rubeus barely the time to turn and gape in surprise before her fist was coming at his head.
"How…"
The connection of fist and jaw was satisfying, but weak in her estimation. He snapped back into the console, several flashes going off behind his hip. Without warning she was thrown forward as well, screaming, as the window went translucent, the ship stopped, and she felt herself ripped apart.
Travelling through time as a person by Wiseman's method was nearly spontaneous. They didn't feel the jarring shock of experiencing their past, present, and future in one instantaneous second, because they were in that void for barely enough time to register the pain and dislocation. But the ship Rubeus used required more protection, because the hole ripped open was a wide tunnel and travel with such a large object was slow. To keep from being torn apart in time, Rubeus had to basically float down the eddies of the time stream; and to avoid constantly experiencing his entire lifetime, the possibilities, and past, lost opportunities, the ship had to maintain a shield to contain one present only inside.
Obviously, she had just inadvertently turned it off.
Both of them screamed as they experienced every single second of every single life they ever had, would have, and could have had. Rubeus, who had gone through this once before after testing the ship, was a little more prepared for the assault, but Jupiter, already in shock from her injuries, screamed and screamed at the pain.
Her parents hugged her; it was her third birthday. She had received a doll from America, but could have gotten a bike, and had almost gotten a stuffed parrot.
She cried over the death of Rei, beaten and raped by an American GI who thought he could get away with it because of his status; she was eighteen.
The world was ice, and Metallia laughed at the corpse of the fallen princess.
Walking in the winter, she looked around Tokyo one last time, because she was leaving to move to Osaka, to try her life on her own, to leave behind the memories of her parents. She wondered what her fourteenth birthday would be like, an orphan alone in an empty apartment.
She was
…dead…
coldsnowicefreezing
"You can't go out, Serenity-sama, what if…"
Falling, not able to run fast enough
Loving her husband so much, and he was perfect for her
"They wouldn't dare attack us, they have no power!" "They already have, my queen."
"And could I ever love someone else? We understand each other!"
whatifwhatifwhatcouldwhatwouldwhatmightCOLDdarknesslovelovelovelove absolutedevotionhatredloss
joy
sorrow
Everything.
At.
Once.
Pain blossomed behind her eyes, and she was thrown onto the floor as everything stabilized violently.
Rubeus loomed over her, furious, shrieking at her with words she couldn't understand, but she could interpret the kick he gave her well enough. It sent stabbing pains through her side as it further cracked her ribs, and she rolled over weakly to avoid his second punt. Reaching out to snag his boot, she yanked hard; but though he stumbled, he recovered sufficiently to hoist her up by her biceps. "You stupid, insolent soldier! Not only do you disobey the natural order of all things, you've got no brains!" he snarled, backhanding her.
Her jaw made a popping noise, but thankfully remained properly in socket. She sagged in his grip, blinking as the starbursts she usually saw during a fresh surge of pain became flowers, delicate with petals and leaves; that was most likely a bad sign. It also didn't matter as the next slap was the blow that sent her hurtling back into oblivion, just as she heard him say, "…sleep forever, soldier."

From the second story of the Tsukino house, Chibi-Usa watched out of the window as the beam of light disappeared. The rumbling of the ground had minor in comparison, an earthquake comparable to all of the others she had ever felt during the early years of thawing. But it was the light, and the energy she recognized, that had her attention.
She should have been in bed, because she had school - a strange, archaic concept to her that Ikuko-mama insisted she had to attend - and she had to wake up at an insane hour of the morning. But she remained in the window, holding Luna-P to her chest to feel its gentle rumble of what passed for its gears as she waited.
Beneath her shirt she felt the familiar lumps hanging there, warmed by her body heat; a lavender skeleton key of a decidedly female design, heart-shaped at its hook, and a crystal that was dull and lacking in sheen. Lifeless. It gave her a strange feeling of anxiety to remember that they hung around her neck, to recall the mission she had sent herself on.
"Mama…"

"But, Mamo-chan, I could have-"
"Usako, don't say it! You did the best you could, you're not a god!"
She sobbed, spinning away from him with this new onslaught of tears. Unused to such displays of emotion, still fresh at their relationship, Mamoru hesitated before finally rushing to hold her tightly, hugging her to his chest to hear his rapidly-beating heart.
Hours had passed since the traumatic events on Makoto's rooftop, after which the odango-haired blonde had tried using the power of her crystal to knock the UFO out of the sky. Not only had it exhausted her to the point of debilitation, it had been a display of nearly cosmic power that had knocked her allies onto their ass and out of their minds. The entire island had been shaken, a point-four earthquake bouncing Tokyo violently awake. No doubt the newspapers would be again running articles about the mysterious white light in the sky, this time coinciding with a shaking of the very earth.
Usagi had allowed her transformation to rescind and had rocked back and forth on her knees, holding the crystal in her hands. Obviously too traumatized to go home, the dark-haired prince took her home with him, taking the Crystal Guardian's word that she would deal with Usagi's parents. This would be the second time he would be taking her, in bad shape, to his apartment without her agreement; in the back of his head his gentleman's ideal was getting its ass kicked.
Seeing as he had, for once, put some thought into his arrival and taken his car to the building itself, he had been able to take her back with some amount of safety. But she had huddled into a tight ball in the passenger's seat all the same, shivering with an internal cold he knew had nothing to do with temperature, still holding the crystal naked between her palms. Her brooch had hung open on her bow until he finally, unable to stand it any longer, had reached over to gently click it shut.
Her blonde hair had a dusty coating, her skin smudged with dirt, so he had directed her to his bathroom to wash up, giving her a robe he had left over from Moriya's visits; wisely, he hadn't mentioned it, and she had not commented on it. After that he had just collapsed on the couch for a half-hour sloth session, not sure what to do when she came out. The logical part of his mind was trying to convince him that comforting her was the way to go, the broken gentleman's ideal was cautioning him on such possibly confusing advances, and that tiny midget that controlled his sex drive was all for a more physical handling of the situation.
"I hate it when I argue with myself," he finally grunted, forcing himself to get his lazy ass up and make some coffee.
Not that it mattered, as the first thing his princess had said, fresh out of the shower like a ripe peach and just modestly covered in the robe and her dripping hair, was, "I could have saved her. If I was stronger, I could have saved her!"
It just went down from there.
Hugging her now, he was soaking the front of his shirt beyond salvation. But he held on tight anyway, finger combing some of the tangles in her wet hair. She was finally calming down, he sensed it; she breathed a little easier, though she still looked up at him with blue doe eyes, like a lost little child just told that the world isn't entirely fair. "Mamo-chan, do you think Chibi-Usa is evil?"
"Maybe a little bit unforgiving, and possibly lost…." He frowned, remembering the palace he had seen; undoubtedly, she was doing the same. "But a child? I can't imagine it."
She pulled away from him to wander for the couch, leaving him behind to stare a bit guiltily. Had her legs ever been so long before? He blinked a few times, shaking his head; even if they had been lovers in a past life, even if they were dating now, age and experience were a rather big part of the picture. No doubt his scant flirtations and even more scant experimentation was a lifetime of experience over her.
Now anyone who knew him, even if not personally, would swear up and down that Chiba Mamoru was no lecherous pig. Sure, most of them would not have known of his nervous sessions in the massage parlors, or a clumsy attempt at seduction in the private room of a love hotel; but he was male, and he was weak. The few girls he had attempted to woo had been simultaneously attracted to him by his gentleman's manners and chivalrous attitude - a trait long endangered on the isle, where men still, by tradition and commercialization alone, dominated - and turned off by his distant nature.
Almost all of his flirtations had been with Americans, blonde and blue-eyed. The other had been half-German and half-Japanese, a blue-eyed, black-haired, willowy girl who slapped him for asking casually if she ever considered dyeing her hair. She'd taken it wrong; he had meant it as an aesthetic question, not racial. But he couldn't have explained to her the reason, when he himself did not know until almost a year later when his princess whispered plaintively in his dreams: "Onegai….Ginzuishou desu…."
Now that same princess was sitting forlornly on his couch, legs folded naturally to her side. With one sleeve sliding slowly down her arm, exposing a perfectly smooth shoulder, he may as well have gone mad. And she was gazing at him strangely, crystal blue eyes deepening to a shade of indigo he had never seen before. "Usako, I don't care what Minako thinks she knows. For a child Chibi-Usa's age to be vicious towards us….other than her clumsy attempt at holding us up, she's done nothing."
"Hai, but why is she here, Mamo-chan? She fell on top of us, just before the Black Moon appeared in Tokyo. Everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I'm not; even I can add things up to see the obvious conclusion."
She was leaning forward with each sentence, her words dropping in tone and growing serious, if not angry. The dark-haired prince was tempted to flinch, glad he wasn't in the path of her obvious wrath towards her allies, and yet knowing he was slightly guilty of it as well. With her exalted position of the past, and her clumsy, crybaby demeanor of the present, it was easy to dismiss her as a figurehead, leaving the serious discussion to themselves. "I think you like her too much, Mamo-chan; you trust her because she's little and cute and lost."
Up went the shields; defensive mode, cap'n, who knows how long they'd hold up under the pressure. "And is that a crime? Of course I feel bad for her, she's a child from nowhere and obviously scared of something or someone! No one that young should deal with such an immense burden!"
"Even if she's the enemy?" The gleam in her eyes was crafty, though her expression was stony and nearly vacant. "And what if she turned against us, Mamo-chan, a powerful little witch with the mark of the Black Moon - could you stop her?" He did flinch now, grimacing from her harsh words, confused.
Slowly, however, he ventured, "Usako, you know my life is dedicated to you. If someone tried to harm you, I would be the first to raise my weapon in defense. Why are you accusing me of something I have yet to do?"
She slowly lowered her eyes, suddenly demure as she gathered a handful of her wet hair, twisting it in an unconscious gesture of nervousness. "I….I'm afraid, Mamo-chan. Ami-chan, Rei-chan, Mako-chan…the Black Moon took them all, and now you're feeling sorry for a little girl we don't even know, and I just….I just…."
"Usako…" he murmured as she continued to babble, her hair bearing the brunt of it. He realized quite poignantly how thoughtless he had been; now, so soon after losing her friends to death, she was having them taken away from her again with no explanation, and he, her champion and prince, was in a subtle fashion, now including another female in his protective circle. She was jealous and scared.
Reaching out again, he tried to hug her, comfort her, but she surprised him by leaning up to kiss him instead. Not anticipating it, it landed somewhere on his chin, but she pulled his face down for a second attempt. Holding him in place, the second kiss lasted for a good minute, though he could feel her still trembling with another surge of tears; sure enough, she began crying again once they separated. "Mamo-chan, I don't want this anymore! Why can't we be left in peace finally? Who can these new enemies be that they arrived so suddenly and so soon and why did they come at all?"
Hiccuping, she wiped at her cheeks with the sleeve of her robe. "I don't want to be Sailor Moon; I thought it would be over once we had avenged Serenity-mama and all of us, but it's not happening!"
"Apparently no one anticipated a new enemy," Mamoru said, somewhat dryly. "Alex-san said she had planned to live her own life as well, her own person again. She assumed that because the Silver Millennium no longer existed to attract outside invaders, we would have no problems."
"She knows everything, doesn't she," Usagi whispered angrily, looking away.
The dark-haired prince stared at her for a long moment, frowning. Settling onto the couch next to her, he set his chin on his fist, elbow most ungentlemanly on the arm of the furniture. So slouched, he said, "I'm sure she doesn't. And you can't hold a grudge forever, Usako. She never did it to hurt you, or any of us; all she wanted was to keep you alive."
When she didn't respond, he added, "and don't forget that I was Moriya's friend longer than she was yours. But I understand. I accept it. And there's more of Moriya in Alex-san than you'll admit, Usako; all she was, was a younger version of Alex-san. You're mourning someone who lives and breathes still."
"Iie…I can't accept that," she murmured finally.
"You have to." He nudged her closer, closer, inclining her head to lean it against his shoulder. "Or the despair will swallow you; I speak from personal experience."
She made a small sound that he took to be agreement, snuggling into his side. "Mamo-chan…."
"Hai?"
"Tell me again."
"Again?"
"Mmmhmm."
Again, wisely, he decided not to comment, this time on her change in mood. Most likely, it was a blessing, and so he said, "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived on the moon, who loved her handsome prince….."

Bells.
Resonant and chiming, they mocked the odango-haired blonde as she tripped over the threshold, flinging herself through the school doors just in the nick of time. More than a few students stared at her, but most, recognizing her as one of the chronically late, continued on their way. One came forward with a hand to help her up; Iretsu, unfailingly polite as always. "Hime-sama," he said by way of greeting.
"Oha-yo, Chouko-kun," she half-groaned, half-warbled, in an attempt to be polite back. It still disturbed her to have him treat her like she should have been carried on a litter to her classes, clad in silks and satins. Her old jovial attitude towards him had been strangled to death; but he accepted her partial politeness all the same.
Pulling her up despite his short stature, he held her dropped book bag as she struggled out of her Mary Janes and slipped on school shoes, hopping on one leg and then the other. He had his perpetual half-smile the entire time; patient and accepting, he held the bag out to her once she was finished. "May I escort you to class?"
"Chouko-kun, I can manage to walk to class without a problem!" she said, exasperated.
"But it's not proper."
"Cho-u-ko-kuuun!"
Still that smile remained, and so she just heaved a sigh. "I wish I had never become a princess," she grumbled as she began the walk towards her classroom.
"One cannot 'become' anything, Tsukino-san," he said calmly behind her. "You were always a princess to me when I was blind and feeble; now, I simply have proof that you are indeed destined to be a queen. And so I treat you with the respect you deserve, and that you showed me, once upon a time."
She took a moment to absorb that, stopping to look back at him with an ashamed expression. "And I've been terrible to you now, haven't I?"
He took her hand kindly, patting it. "I always thought it was because it disturbs you; that you don't want to be reminded of the past. But I won't change in my ways, because you will always be the most beautiful star in my eyes."
Kami-sama, she really had been selfish lately. Sheepish, she bowed her head, then kissed him on the forehead. "Arigatou gozaimasu, Chouko-kun. I don't deserve it."
"Of course you do." He released her hand, cocking his head as his expression became more serious. "But as a princess, you cannot hesitate against those who would hurt your subjects. Though your gentle ways make us all love you, your strength to fight is what will protect us ultimately."
"Chouko-kun….what are you saying?"
"Jupiter-sama, Mercury-sama. They're missing, are they not?" At her gasp, he nodded slowly. "Remember, my princess, I see much now. Your lady soldiers would not be missing so many days of school unless they had been captured in battle."
The final bell rang, and she stared at his back as he disappeared into a different classroom. Slowly she turned away to slide open the door of her own room, barely listening as Haruda-sensei berated her on her tardiness. She just slid into her seat, frowning at her desk and its tiny carving in the corner as her teacher began to write on the chalkboard.
"…and as you see, I've brought a few English newspapers with me today, for your writing assignment." The rustle of paper; a rolled-up newspaper landed in front of her eyes, covered in the strange, left-to-right block letters that Americans used. She could pick out a few words here and there, nothing that made sense when put together, and so she lifted her eyes to stare at her teacher. "I want an essay on the article of your choice, which means you will have to be proficient in reading the English to choose and write a clear, concise paper. It is a test of not only your writing skills, but your English."
English skills that were crude at best for the odango-haired blonde. She sighed, fingering the rolled-up newspaper and debating on what to do for the assignment; she could ask Mamoru for help, but his attempt at tutoring her usually led to snuggling on the couch and watching romantic movies. Ami was gone; Rei was gone; Minako knew about as much English as she did, which left….
…no one.
Not willing to acknowledge the one person she could ask, she simply anticipated her failing grade and put the newspaper in her bag.
It remained there throughout the day, undisturbed by the odango-haired blonde's occasional digging and rifling. And by lunchtime she had forgotten it completely, even if her hand brushed it accidentally in pulling out her somewhat-crushed lunch. She contemplated the squished box and its plain contents - rice, pickles, cucumbers, and other various edible roots - and then stared out through the window at the clear blue sky.
Normally she would have run joyfully out the door, chopsticks racing to eat as she pranced down the hall, knowing Makoto and Ami would be waiting beneath one of the thick trees in the cool shade. But now she found herself alone. Of course, she always had Naru, but there had been a rift growing between them as of late; an amicable rift, but it was there. One of her oldest friends, Naru had watched, puzzled, as she had suddenly gained so many new companions, and had been almost cloying in the absence of Moriya, trying to show her support.
But the truth behind Usagi's shift in companionship, the loss of her oldest friend, her absences - she couldn't tell Naru. And now, the odango-haired blonde watched as she chattered gaily with a few girls from the next classroom, unaware of being watched and of being needed; indeed, as Usagi watched, she left the doorway to go outside with her new friends.
Staring down at her desk, she felt, quite poignantly, her loss.
And then, a shadow fell across her field of sight as someone whispered sharply, "Usagi-chan!"
"…..Minako-cha-a-an?" Gaping, the odango-haired blonde looked up.
Striking a pose, the long-haired blonde showed off her Juuban uniform, though it was the long braid that snaked down her back that really threw Usagi for a loop. "Ne, I look so cute, don't I?" Minako cooed, smoothing a hand over her hip.
"Minako-chan, what are you doing here!?" Rising half out of her seat, Usagi looked around quickly to see if anyone had spotted Minako for an imposter; when no one said a word, she hissed, "who did you take that uniform from?"
"Usagi-chan, you wound me." Touching a hand to her heart, Minako pouted, though she was quick to smile again. "One has to be a camel to blend in with the garden!"
Usagi made a face. "You mean a chameleon?"
"Whatever."
Thoughtfully, Minako added, "and why do you think I'm here, Usagi-chan?"
The odango-haired blonde didn't answer, frowned. She opened her lunch slowly to reveal its contents, lifting up her plain wooden chopsticks to spear a cucumber. "You're protecting me, of course. Minako-chan. Because Mako-chan and Ami-chan and Rei-chan were taken away, and so I could be in danger as always."
"Is it such a burden, Usagi-chan? To be protected?" Taking the empty seat in front of her princess, Minako plunked a rather-beaten obento onto the desk as well, though she stared rather solemnly. "We couldn't bear to lose you, not again-"
"But how do you think it makes me feel-" Stabbing again at her cucumber slices, Usagi interjected angrily to cut Minako off, "-knowing you've died to protect me? Minako-chan, even if I am Princess Serenity, heir to-"
"Already monarch of," Minako flatly noted.
"-heir to," Usagi doggedly stressed, "a beautiful kingdom, I was also reborn as a sailor soldier, with just as great, if not greater, power as all of you." She exhaled sharply, contemplated the lone sausage adrift in her dwindling sea of rice. "I have a duty to protect my fellow soldiers as well," she whispered.
Slowly, the long-haired blonde nodded her head in approval. "You're becoming an adult, Usagi-chan; Serenity-sama would be proud of your strength." Mischievously then, she snatched the sausage out of Usagi's box, popping it into her mouth despite the cry. Clicking her chopsticks, she said, "Then think of it as fellow soldiers banding together, making one last stand in front of the enemy. Protect me as I protect you, ne?"
Usagi smiled, tilting her head in a childish, exuberant manner. "Mochiron!"
They continued to eat for the next few minutes, both of them silent as they devoured what precious little lunch they each had left.
In the act of burping, a noise that made almost everyone's heard turn, Minako caught sight of the newspaper tucked into Usagi's open bag, propped up against a leg of her chair as she had left it. Squinting, the long-haired blonde mouthed a few recognizable words; so she plucked it out to unroll it and get a better look. "'Japan besieged by UFO!'" she parroted aloud, sitting up straight to affect the manner of an intellectual; pushing up a pair of invisible spectacles, she pretended to contemplate the article, until she caught Usagi's vapid stare. "Ne?"
"…how…you….Minako-chan!" she squeaked. "I thought you couldn't read English!"
"I can't!" Minako giggled in return. "I had to read this paper for an English assignment. It's from a week ago."
Usagi's head hitting the desk made everyone turn around again.
Scanning the article, Minako frowned. "I remember sensei telling us that UFO are commonly spotted in America, and that crop circles are also happening a lot. The Black Moon slipped in so easily because of these events…"
"Can you read the entire article?" Usagi mumbled, peeking up. "I have to write a paper on one of them."
"Ano….." Blushing, Minako rolled the paper back up. "I asked an American soldier on the street. All I remember is the title."
The odango-haired blonde's left eye began twitching. "Minako-chan…."
"Well, you can always ask Alex, baka. She's American, she knows English," Minako asserted, making the usual leap of logic all Japanese did in reference to white foreigners, "she can translate it all for you."
Not surprisingly, Usagi turned away, shaking her head. "I guess I'll fail the assignment, because I can't understand English."
"What do you mean….Usagi-chan, don't be so cow-headed."
"Bull."
"Whatever! Usagi-chan, you can't ignore her. And have you ever considered her pain as well, that she sacrificed herself to protect you, in two lifetimes, as we have?"
Usagi opened her mouth to respond, to deny, but she stopped. Her expression began to subtle alter as Minako watched, quivering into an attitude of longing. She was replaying the conversation with Mamoru the night before, on this very topic; and it was very much as if a door suddenly clicked wide open for her to see. Crystal blues shifting to capture twilight, and she smiled, almost shy. "Hai. I suppose so, ne?"

"I curse them all into oblivion!" Rubeus swore, kicked open the hatch of the ship, not bothering to wait. Over his shoulder hung the limp body of Jupiter, a heavy burden to carry; once on stable ground he let her crumple onto the floor in a bloodied heap. "Blasted soldiers, eternal and ungodly and stupid to all the hells!"
"Ru-be-us, if you can't handle the simplest of missions, perhaps I should try my hand?" From behind a coy hand, Esmeraud laughed at his fuming. Though she considered gloating too debase an emotion to indulge in, nothing stopped her from inflating her ego. In her mind they were two entirely different reactions, and never the twain would meet. "Capturing sailor soldiers, so weak in that quaint century of theirs, should be simple!"
Rubeus gestured dismissively at the green-haired woman, turning away to stalk back into the silver UFO. "It's not difficult, merely a waste of precious resource. Now Petz is gone as well, destroyed by that blonde little doll." Disappearing into the ship, Esmeraud heard his boots ring on the metal floor, and boxes being shoved across the same. He appeared again holding a crate filled with what looked to be bread and crackers, some fruits and vegetables - all perishable, all lusted after by them all. "I remembered this time," he explained blandly.
Indeed, Esmeraud's eyes gained a newfound sparkle, a luster that, had she been anyone else, Rubeus may have found lovely. Maybe even sexy. But he knew she regarded him as merely an associate, a fellow fighter in their harsh war, and that all of her attraction and girlish flirtations were forever directed at the white prince who led them. Demand ignored it, as he did everything else, but she persisted in her subtle ways, a glint to her eye that she had now as she snaked seductively up to him - and accepted with grace the crisp red apple he held. "Domo," she purred into his ear.
He waved it off in a manner she found irritating and dismissive, though she realized quickly that he had intended it to silence her as their prince and his somber sibling appeared in the doorway of the cavernous side foyer they used to park the ship. Though it would have been easier to simply land it outside the castle entirely instead of cramming it into the abandoned hallway, none of them wanted to set foot outside. The air was thick and noxious, stifling, clogging their lungs the minute they walked outside of the containment field that made the castle livable. Once a week did Demand force one of them to pick the edible plants that grew naturally, usually a dangerous task when one of the natives tried to attack them. Becoming atavistic and feral, Esmeraud still had a long jagged scar down her forearm from the curving, sharp fingernails of such an attacker. Her gloves covered it nicely.
And it was such a haunting sight, that of their white prince with his swirling cape, brother trailing him like a loyal puppy or perhaps servant, standing beneath a curving and elegant doorway that, when peered at closely, became a tale in pictures of their exile to Nemesis and their future conquest of the Earth. Demand had directed two of his followers to carve it, being mad artists of the sort who thought him a visionary; they had finished it just before dying of malnutrition. "Rubeus," Demand finally said, giving Esmeraud a pleasant rush to hear it echo off the walls, "you bring us good tidings."
"Not so good, Demand-sama." Still carrying the food in his arms, he nudged roughly at Jupiter's prone form with the toe of his boot. "Another captured piece, another swept from the board. Petz died truly in battle, as did her sisters."
Demand nodded thoughtfully, Saphir impassive as ever behind him. "And so she will not find blasphemous immortality in the queen's grip. Petz is remembered, as is Berthier, as is Koan."
To die; it was a natural process they all wished for, one day, instead of the unnatural life span Earth's monarch would have given them. For a moment, they all remained in silence, respectful towards the loss of life in a way they had never been taught, only known instinctively; then Demand continued to walk, and it was broken. He held out a hand as he reached Rubeus, not needing to speak as the red-haired man placed a bunch of green grapes in his palm, still slightly wet and beaded with moisture, plump and absolutely ripe. The one fruit their prince had so faintly recalled from childhood, before the cold had claimed the planet.
Saphir accepted an orange - the sign had named them as 'navel' oranges, a concept Rubeus found absolutely disturbing - and without preamble began to peel away the rind. "This soldier seems to have been fought hard," he remarked after half of the thick skin was removed. Watching him at work was fascinating, but all of them simultaneously looked down at Jupiter at his observation to see the small drips of blood from an open wound on her forehead hit the floor.
"The soldier of Jupiter. To have fought so hard is a testament to her strength, and perhaps her ignorant stubbornness," Demand replied neutrally, plucking a grape slowly and gently from its stem. Rolling it between his fingers, Rubeus and Saphir both watched as Esmeraud watched him place it on his tongue, eyes closing for a second as he savoured the sour tang of its juice. Coolly she ignored both men, choosing to look away as Demand ate another, and instead carefully took a bite out of her apple.
And so it went, as they each devoured, slowly, their fruit. Saphir drifted off to perform another of his mad scientist experiments, none of which interested nor concerned Rubeus in the least, and Demand left to pretend he wasn't simply going to stroke his ego over his precious hologram. Esmeraud, as always, left to pretend she wasn't simply going to follow Demand to his very door, preening and fawning and wishing he'd stroke his ego over her. It all smacked of pettiness, and again, Rubeus wondered at his position in it all.
He had been, like his allies, born from parents who had known hatred, revenge, personal betrayal in life. Before the cold, in time of war, his mother's family had been a plague upon the Chinese, loyal to their country as it swarmed Manchuria. Grandmother had been a spy, so sure of herself as she lured the strong men and whimpering women to opium addiction; grandfather a soldier who thought nothing of frightening the populace by random shootings.
His mother, born during that time of rampant immorality, had been a black widow, marrying for money and casually arranging 'accidents' to befall her loving husbands. The last one had been his father, though she never bothered to tell him the name; dead five years before everything had turned white and freezing cold. His sister, two years older, refused as well to reveal the truth, though he had seen the naked fear in her eyes when he had asked.
In a loving society his mother had been an outcast, deriding their monarch's loving nature as stupid and childish. Dying from complications from the thaw, she had cursed their queen to her last breath, ignoring her son and daughter entirely - out of spite or unconcern, he still couldn't figure out. Left alone, his sister too involved with her work aiding those newly awoken, he had wandered their roughshod city, nurturing the anger in his heart, latching onto Demand and his father's concepts of blasphemy towards God out of desperation for something to have meaning in his life. Soon he really did think it made sense, and he had no shame in escaping the planet with them.
But he wondered what his sister thought of him on Earth; did she wonder where he had gone? Only by their newfound power had they resisted the society of Earth and its promises, leaving in secret and stealth, and he had never found her to bid farewell.
Ah, well.
He reached down, grabbing Jupiter by her knobby wrist, and proceeded to drag her with him like a sack of flour as he carried the box with his other arm. Behind him the ship closed on its own, and he never bothered to look back to make sure. He simply braced for the teleport, still walking as he forced the hole open to swallow him and his cargo whole, flinching as the darkness made his eyes utterly useless. "Kuso…I hate that," he swore quietly.
In the fathomless expanse, illumination came only as one brought it, though as the red-haired man watched, he could see the aura of each floating soldier like tiny flames in the dark. Mars, in a terrible state of uncleanliness, shifted clothing like an amoeba, her spirit weakening against the power of the Jakokusuishou and trying to revert her back to a Tokyo schoolgirl. Mercury floated past in a slightly better suit of clothes, though she too was flickering, her lips twitching unconsciously as she fought to keep her power.
He had to admit that they were lovely even as pubescent girls, hips and breasts losing their flat, sharp angles to become the round curves of woman. As Mars passed he let his fingers trail through her hair which, though oily and in serious need of cleaning, was still amazingly beautiful in its colour and texture. "You would think that Saphir, so constantly acting the little scientist, could create a light source for this damn room so I could further appreciate this. Ara, but I'm allied with an idiot," he snorted, hoisting the tall brunette up.
She lifted out of his arms by magic unique to the room, knowing that she was captured prey. It held her in the air as it did her two fellow soldiers, another opened wound dripping blood sideways past his face. A wound Petz no doubt inflicted, and it made him smile; though he had always been certain she hated him, he could appreciate her skills. (He never did know that Petz had hated him, but not completely because of his loyalty to Demand; it had been Koan's infatuation with him, almost childish and completely unnoticed. Had he known he would have realized that she had sculpted her hair into those ridiculous cat ears solely on the basis of hearing him remark once, years ago, that he had once owned a pet cat.)
On the subject of Petz, he realized they still had one more sister to use up and throw away; no doubt Calaveras was even now meditating in the chamber she had shared with her siblings, trying to commune with their spirits. She fancied herself a seer and had supposedly seen the vision of them retaking Earth that graced the doorway. (Tongue in cheek, so to say; it had been Wiseman's idea, but she had fleshed it out wonderfully.) Much of the time of their exile she had spent alone, nearly dying from several idiotic, self-induced fasts, as if the fact they barely had anything to eat wasn't a near starvation in itself!
He'd always been a little bit sweet on her, if only because she had, upon first seeing him, said, "And do you plan to be the spider with the poisonous tongue?"
That was him; biting, sarcastic, and pleased with his mother's same passion for reaping and sowing. Why not?
Patting Jupiter's cheek as she floated slowly like seaweed, he again ripped open the portal to step through, feeling the split second of complete displacement like the well-trained traveler he had become. Blinking, he saw the paneled walls of the sisters' chamber, a few charred or long soaked and growing spots of mold. And though the sound of his boots clicked dully, Calaveras, sitting on a piece of furniture meant to be a couch, never twitched. He saw the neat twist bun at the back of her head, tied with a yellow bow, and he saw the illusions she faced of her three sisters; motionless, hollow-eyed. Mere torsos in the air, their faces were blank, their eyes nothing more than almond shaped holes in their heads.
As he came closer he heard her muttering, invoking some god or goddess or whatever it was she did in these trances. He was only glad he didn't see her face - one time he had been unlucky enough to witness her current position, he had seen the solid whites of her eyes, and it had been damn creepy, even with their floating monk always at their heads. But at least he hadn't been cursed with the visions or images of dead people, because Wiseman was actually blameless in that regard. She had been born with the talent.
Touching her, he did it with his tongue along her neck, amused to watch the shiver of her skin and hear her squeal of "Rubeus-sama!"
"Calaveras, you really must eat soon, before we lose our last great ally to starvation instead of glorious battle," he glibly murmured in her ear. Out of his crate he produced a - what the hell was it again? Oh yes, a banana - which he held for her to take. And she gasped as he placed it in her hands, gentle as if it were a sacred relic, and immediately began to chew at the end of it.
He blinked.
Blinked again, still unsure of what he was seeing.
Third time.
Gnawing at the fibrous yellow skin, she grimaced and tried to hide it. "Is this food from the 21st century? Petz never mentioned such an…interesting…plant," she said finally, peering at it. Beside her, he was shaking his head in partial bemusement.
"Yare yare," he sighed. "You peel the skin off, like so…." Thankfully, she had been gnawing at the top, and her teeth marks made it a bit easier to peel the first strip off. "You eat what's inside. It's soft and sweet."
"Ah!" Like a child she ripped the rest down, gleeful as each piece revealed more of the meat itself. She dropped the entire skin on the floor and began chewing on it properly in a rough manner that made Rubeus wince and yet shiver in a vague anticipation.
He watched her thoroughly atavistic method of eating in silence for an uncomfortable minute and a half; a small lump of half-chewed fruit slid down her chin, which she caught deftly with her tongue between swallows. Though her stomach lurched in irritation from the unknown foodstuff, she smiled at him anyway, a sly twist that was nearly a grimace of pain. "Domo, Rubeus-sama. It was delicious."
Setting the box down proper on a nearby table - he ignored the scorch mark that was undoubtedly Koan's doing - he moved behind Calaveras to trail his fingers over the wet path his tongue had created, smiling as she shivered again. Digging in, he began to coax her muscles loose, kneading in a rough manner as he said, "Are you preparing for your mission? Have your sisters given you visions to stop the sailor soldiers?"
Her head rolled as she sighed. Wiseman had promised their deaths to their great phantom, but she wondered if she could have Rubeus spared; surely he could be useful, with his glib words and sly personality. And Koan had been so enamored of him, it would be a gift to her to keep him alive.
But she doubted it; to the phantom she was loyal, and only they four, the ayakashi no yon shimai, had been so graced as to be allowed that trust. No one else. Sacrifice he would be, on the altar to which all of them would be led so that their life and hatred would nurture the phantom and the power with which they would rule. So she stared at the destruction her sisters had left on the walls as she stated, "I have been prepared from the moment of my opened eyes. For Koan, Berthier, and Petz, I will accept the mission to avenge them all."
Ghosts, her sisters shuddered like a pool into which a pebble had dropped, mixing into one another to produce new colours. Each vanquished sailor soldier took shape in their places, their eyes just as hollow and gaping, their uniforms smooth over their bodies. Calaveras shuddered beneath his hands. "Is this what my sisters tell me from Hell? Yes…make the sailor soldiers writhe in pain as well, show them their fallen comrades!" She flung herself up, nearly cracking her skull into Rubeus' jaw. "I will show Sailor Moon the crumbling world when she is torn and bloodied, blonde hair in the wind!"
"And what is the mission, Calaveras?" Rubeus asked.
"It is Code : 004, is it not?" she whispered, lifting her chin as she held out her arms, feeling but not seeing the spirits of her sisters as they wove around her body, whispering secrets in her ear. "Operation: Rebirth. Already I feel my body filling with the power of my sisters, and I will use it to subvert the last sailor soldier. Mankind will be her enemy, Earth will be a prison until they repent!"

The sun had begun to set. Candles with their soft, flickering light had long ago begun to burn in the living room of the condo, lightly scented rose and jasmine. Just enough light to move about comfortably in, they warmed an unoccupied room, as the owner of the entire building stood instead out on her bedroom porch.
None of the tenants knew their checks went to her; in fact, none of the other buildings she owned knew her face, merely the name she listed ownership beneath. All they knew was that she was simply an American, most obviously filthy rich to live in a two-floor condo that took up almost an entire half of the eight floor and created part of a ninth. She spoke Japanese flawlessly, was gracious to her neighbors, and gave them all the image of a gentle giant, if you will, who wanted nothing more than peace.
She had a tendency to almost tower over most of them, being nearly a head taller than the women in occupancy and a quarter of the men. Always in jeans and boots, her manner more masculine and gentlemanly than feminine and quiet, she unnerved everyone with her charm. But then she always had, hadn't she?
Out on the porch she watched the ships in the harbor, squinting now and again as her unbound hair threatened to cut her eyes as it whipped in the breeze. The white men's dress shirt she wore billowed as well, though it was buttoned chastely enough. Her usual jeans and boots - she had a laughing disdain for the country's custom of removing footwear before entering the home, and she always wore her shoes inside her own condo - were black as always. Comfortable loungewear, in her opinion.
On the street she could see two American GI taking a stroll, standing out like the sore thumbs they were in camouflage and crew cuts. Even eight stories up she could hear one of them jeering at a pair of passing students from the nearby Mugen Gakuen complex, a girl and boy and most obviously close. She frowned, watching the soldiers pass by and out of sight; once again, her countrymen proved to be complete jackasses.
But then, she had an assortment of countries to choose from.
In Japan, she was American and foreign without a doubt, categorized by her colouring and name and yes, height. She had been born in America, but had spent a quarter of a childhood in Australian surrounded by empty land for miles, traveled Europe for several years during puberty before regaining her citizenship. And for a long time, she had simply been known, derisively and in awe, as simply an Earther.
Thinking about it made her heart ache. She wasn't supposed to be this old, not yet; as of this year, she was only about twenty-one. But in her timeline, with so many centuries passed in a quasi-realized state, the occasional solidity to acquire land and wealth in staggering amounts, she could tick off at least four decimal places. Empires had fallen, grown, and tumbled right back down again in an eyeblink; she had watched the world spin and age. Languages woven from rudimentary syllables, she had noted the complete re-emergence of the language of the Moon on the tiny islands of a future Japan.
Slowly, she realized the doorbell was ringing, cutting through her thoughts.
Normally, it would cause her a bit of concern, as she had not, before a week ago, had any visitors. Deliverymen knew to simply leave packages at the door; neighbors accosted her in the elevator or in the hallway.
Reaching out, she depressed a button on the intercom next to the door. "Who is it?"
"Chibi-Usa desu!" a singsong voice rang back.
Pausing, Alex blinked. She certainly hadn't expected the pink-haired child to be a frequent visitor, as the last time had obviously been out of fear and a need for support. "It's open, imouto. I'll be right down." She released the button and stepped back into her bedroom, sliding the porch door shut behind her. As she left her room, she paused to turn the intercom off, noting that it had crackled a bit; obviously, having it right next to her often-slammed bedroom door had loosened something.
Downstairs, however, Chibi-Usa was having a bit of a crisis trying to do the opposite. She stared sullenly at a door that refused to budge, no matter how many times she flailed around, trying to catch its attention. Having a rather stubborn doorknob, she had tried the archaic method of twisting and actually physically pushing it open, and failed miserably. Last time, Alex had opened it for her.
Used to doors that did the work on their own and always slid open at the tiniest movement, precise enough to match a person's speed with its opening and closing, the 21st century was giving her no end of grief. Just as she had gotten adept at twisting doorknobs, the entrances at school slid open on tracks, another adjustment; and then, shop doors in the city opened on their own! No one could make up their frosted minds.
With no options left, she gave it a kick, wailing, "Open! I command you!"
And as always, it was the old bit of violence that worked, nudging the bolt open the last inch to drop the pink-haired child through the frame and onto the carpet with a grunt. Luna P, bewildered as only a machine could be at her predicament, beeped cautiously at her as it hummed through on its own power. Though it looked like a rather grotesque parody of Luna bloating from gas, it was programmed quite intricately; its forward motion put it between Chibi-Usa and any possible danger.
With the appearance of Alex in the hallway, it did a sophisticated aural, metal, and mental scan, noting her height, weight, muscle mass, and every other tiny detail needed, though it groaned with an internal screech of gears in consternation as it could not mentally scan her at all. Shutting its sensor down, Luna P beeped merrily, having matched profiles up in its database to confirm Alex's status as a friend, moving out of the way as she bent down to help Chibi-Usa up. "Still having trouble with the door, imouto?" she asked mildly.
"It's broken," the pink-haired child mumbled petulantly, seeming to take a bit of pride in being helped to stand, instead of picked up like a doll. She momentarily beamed, skipping aside to allow the tall red-head to close the door after her. She, like Alex, didn't bother to remove her shoes, unused to a society that disdained footwear in the home, and still forgetting that she was in a century that thought of feet and its associates as unclean.
In an attitude totally unlike that which Usagi and her associates had seen up until that point, she assumed a posture of patient waiting as Alex picked up an umbrella knocked over during her entrance. Then she asked demurely, "May I sit down in the living room?"
It was such a strangely absurd question that Alex paused before nodding her head in amusement. "Yes, you may sit down in the living room," she said, somewhat formal, as Chibi-Usa flounced into the semi-twilight of the room, her dark school uniform blending in with the candle shadows. Settling into the couch, she held out her arms for Luna P to settle into as Alex disappeared into the kitchen, getting a snack for the child.
What she brought back was a plate of cookies and a glass of plum tea, which she set in front of the pink-haired child. She had a package of soy crackers and a glass bottle of red soda for herself, which she set down before taking up residency in one of the armchairs. But she didn't speak; obviously, she was waiting for Chibi-Usa to initiate any conversation.
And she did, though not at first. She took a cookie, nibbling at it in what she obviously meant to be a ladylike fashion, head slightly bent over the plate. Sipping at the milk, she repeated the process several times as Alex watched, mildly fascinated; she went through two cookies in this manner. It was on the third that she finally ventured forth with a hesitant question: "Alex-san, have you heard of Sailor Moon?"
Quite the question, too; Alex nearly spit out the mouthful of soda she'd finally taken. After a minute of trying to explain to the bubbly liquid that her nostrils were not, in fact, the correct route, and that her throat was patiently standing by, she swallowed. "Hasn't everyone?" she coughed. "Young girl, skimpy skirt, every working man's fantasy…been on the TV a lot recently, though no one can get a decent picture of her." Massaging her throat with a wince, she added, "Why?"
"But she's supposedly to be powerful, isn't it? A soldier of love and justice…." Cookies forgotten, Chibi-Usa had begun to stare at a fixed point past Alex's head. Her voice grew wistful as she said, "The legends say she can save the world, and that no one is more powerful than her. Is it true, Alex-san?"
"Legends? She's only shown up recently, imouto. Not nearly long enough to have bards sing songs of her battles." At the child's uncomprehending look, she sighed. "A bard is one of those foppish idiots who makes up songs about heroes and battles at the royal courts. Or they did; they're pretty well extinct by this time." Frowning, Alex took a normal sip of soda. "You sound as though you've been hearing these 'legends' for quite some time now."
Suddenly flustered, the pink-haired child sank into the couch, shaking her head in the negative beneath the weight of Alex's stare. Though she had wailed about the hellish moments of her life before arriving in Tokyo, Chibi-Usa had not been in the least forthcoming about where she was from, or why she had come; and the tall red-head was growing even more suspicious, though she didn't like it. And of course, there was always the perplexing name…
The doorbell rang again, eliciting a startled squeak from the pink-haired child, a warning beep from Luna P, and a sharp swing of the head from Alex. "More visitors?" she muttered, getting up as the doorbell rang again, twice. "I'm coming, dammit!"
As she got closer she heard scuffling, which was even more perplexing. But she could also hear a familiar voice squeaking, another berating, and she glanced back at Chibi-Usa, shrugging. The pink-haired child, however, remained noticeably tense, curling around the exaggerated cat's head for support.
Having never bothered to lock the door the first time, Alex simply opened it and blinked as two struggling blondes fell across her threshold.
"This is new," she remarked after a minute. "Now they're sending live models to playact dirty fantasies right to my door. I feel singularly blessed."
"Konnichi wa, Alex-sensei!" Minako literally sang, dragging a limp Usagi up to her feet with her.
"Sensei? This fantasy gets dirtier every minute. What are you talking about, Minako?" the tall red-head snorted, thoughtfully closing the door behind them.
The long-haired blonde had slid off her school shoes, and had begun a hopping dance around, looking for house slippers and not daring to set her socked feet on the carpet. Usagi, in customary deference, removed her shoes as well but remained standing, head down and looking at her briefcase. Alex looked in no hurry to stop the amusing prance, and in fact leaned lazily against the wall as Minako continued to hop and said, "I brought you a troubled student, in need of assistance! And besides, as a sailor soldier, you're our guardian teacher."
"Hah! You barely listened to me in another lifetime, what would make this one any different?" Scratching her cheek, she added, "You can stop dancing, Minako. In case you haven't noticed, I tromp quite happily on my carpet in shoes." She wriggled a booted foot for emphasis, before wandering towards the kitchen. "Want a snack?"
Minako paused in mid-bounce, leg literally in the air. Even Usagi seemed surprise, lifting her head to show her shock as her friend laughed haughtily. "Americans! I knew all along! Come on, Usagi-chan!" she crowed, running for the kitchen. Behind her, the odango-haired blonde merely walked, despite the lure of food. She halted in mid-bound as Alex shook her head, saying, "You can wait in the living room with the kid."
"….kid?" Usagi lifted her head slowly, staring past Minako into the twilight of the living room. When she saw those two familiar poofs of pink hair, she began to babble indignantly, a meaningless stream of noise that finally coalesced into "What's SHE doing here!?"
Minako seemed only slightly less surprised, though she regarded the child with suspicion. "Maybe she's come to turn herself in?"
Chibi-Usa stared at them from the couch, both girls blurred and indistinct, lit from behind by the bright kitchen. In such a manner she could see the subtle glow emanating from the gaudy brooch on Usagi's chest. "Sailor Moon no Tsukino Usagi…"
Tensed, she crouched on the cushions as the two blondes came closer, both eyeing her in a suspicious manner, though Usagi was far more blatant. Neither seemed any less or more wary when Chibi-Usa reached out to touch Luna P, the merest slap of her hand enough to bounce it once, twice, on the carpeting.
Smoke exploded out from the machine, Minako and Usagi, springing to their feet at the action, beginning to cough violently. "Alex-sensei!" Minako hacked, waving her arms frantically to disperse the smoke. "Chibi-Usa is-"
The crack to her skull was minimal, but enough to stagger her on her feet. Through the haze she could see Chibi-Usa wielding a rather demented pink umbrella decorated with smiling Luna faces, brought back for another swing. As she swung again Minako ducked, though the quick movement dropped her to her knees as she inhaled another lungful of the smoke; along with the throbbing pain in her head, it was effectively making her sleepy. On the floor lay Usagi, already unconscious with a telltale muss to her hair to suggest she, too, had been clocked.
Filtering through the first floor of the apartment, it reached Alex barely seconds after Luna P had exploded. A deep inhale caught her off guard, but didn't have the strength to knock her unconscious as it had Usagi. "What the hell?" she coughed in rather irate English, swinging her arm to wave the smoke away. "Usagi! Minako!"
A blast of light seared into her eyes. Though it was painful to the point of blindness, the power it released was kind, warm and enveloping; and just barely she could make out the form of Chibi-Usa holding Usagi's brooch, open to radiate the power of the Ginzuishou.
"Mon Dieu," Alex whispered. "It's resonating with her."
The child turned her head.
And on the skin of her brow glowed the golden crescent moon. Insubstantial was the outline of a gown around her body, the fabric bunching with her sudden running movement. Just as quickly did the light disappear, leaving dots of white in the tall red-head's vision even as she vaulted over the cutting board to follow. Usagi and Minako didn't even stir as she ran past, thundering up the steps to see a ponytail of pink hair vanish around the corner. "Chibi-Usa! Chibi-Usa!"
The door of her bedroom was wide open, as was the porch. She couldn't run fast enough to make it in time; Chibi-Usa saw her, as she stood on the railing holding the umbrella. Opening it, she dropped off just as Alex's hand reached out to grab her.
And impossibly, unbelievably, she floated away on the breeze.

Through the eyes of a woman born to forever see the spirits, Tokyo was a cramped city indeed. Humans, vibrant and alive, trampled through a domain of hissing, confused souls, trapped within the sphere by misdeeds or simple ignorance. Almost all of them were angry spirits, lusting for recognition or a chance to be useful; when they saw her, knowing she was able to pierce the veil, they surrounded her en masse in a clamor.
"My friends," she purred, holding her arms aloft. Standing as she was on a busy sidewalk in Juuban, still dressed in the red and gold skirt and bodice she favoured, hair tied back into a bun by a bright yellow bow, she was gaining more than a few looks. Not to mention that her words were like the clicking of shells, spoken as they were in an entirely different realm. Ignoring it with a rather imperious tilt of her chin, she crooned into the whirlwind, "A chance to be useful, this is what I ask of you!"
Their voices became a babble around her as they all began to cry and yell and scream to catch her attention, shoving at one another. She smiled; such violence was always intoxicating, even amongst the dead. It continued in such a fashion for a minute more, until she gestured sharply. "Enough. You, the boy; Itsuke. Do you see the city and all of its people?" she said in less a question than a statement, plucking his name from the memories of his life.
"I see all that is required of me, Lady of the Phantom," the boy trilled, ascertaining her title amongst the dead in much the same way she had his name. Barely ten, she could judge by the solidity of his form that he had been dead for a long time; most spirits were too confused and new to retain such a sure remembrance of their body. Indeed, the souls pushing against him didn't pass through him as most would, stopped by the force of his will.
Like a queen she motioned him to her feet, and the boy compliantly dropped to stand before her, though his age was most likely triple, if not quadruple, hers. A power as rare as hers commanded such respect, simply; and she could reward as well as punish. "Tell me, Itsuke, about the sailor soldiers of the 21st century. Speak to me of their power."
She could barely see the whites of his eyes as he narrowed them, slitting them in hatred. "The sailor soldiers, Lady of the Phantom? Of their leader we can see only purity, a white light that makes all else insignificant. Princess of the White Moon, she inspires love and carries the force of the gods."
"Blasphemy towards the gods," she corrected him angrily. "Is it in the circle of the heavens and hells to never die? To give life as if it were a trinket?"
"But she doesn't see us," the boy responded. "And so we wish her dead, unable to torment us any further."
Around Calaveras pressed the bodies, thick, thin, and forceful, of the pedestrians continuing to hurry, always hurry; Tokyo was, she had decided upon arrival, a constant flow like a river that needed to be dammed up. She could see their imperfections as they passed - weak hearts, cancerous growths, aneurysms set to rupture - and she was eyed them all with a connoisseur's eye as she said, "And the others?"
"The sailor soldiers protect their shining princess. Each shimmers, insignificant, within her light, but we have seen them begun to disappear one by one. Soon, only two remain."
"Two?" Calaveras quivered with shock fraught with tension. "Two! Wiseman-sama said nothing of two, merely her heart's desire…! Who could there be besides the sailor soldiers?"
The boy seemed puzzled. Surely a woman of her power and knowledge would know the answer before he gave it, but Calaveras seemed genuinely taken aback. "She Who Is Fire and Flame. She who compliments the shining light of the princess with her own."
Another spirit, insubstantial to the point of invisible, pressed forward to whisper, "A soldier who is not a soldier, of whom they walk in her shadow. Red hair of copper, and blue eyes of the lazuli."
Red hair and blue eyes? The medium stared past all of them, recalling the individual details of the five sailor soldiers she knew of, all of them without a red hair amongst them. Such a colour was unusual even in her lifetime, but she knew, naggingly, she had seen it before. Maybe even recently….
Her lips moved and made no sound, until finally she stammered, "She is awake in this era? Masaka… The Guardian, awake, in this time!" Wiseman had completely neglected to mention this fact to her; or, sickeningly, she realized he may have entirely forgotten about it. After all, the soldier in question had been out of commission since the time of the ice.
"And there is the child!" another spirit said, somewhere beside her head. "A resonation with the shining light of the princess."
"Yes, her! Her! Where is she!" Calaveras demanded, turning to see the spirit, a wan male who had died a mere five minutes ago. It didn't matter, of course; once a person died and their soul was released, they saw the same that every trapped soul did. They simply couldn't always interpret it in the same manner, but this one was intelligent, constantly near enough to death in his last years to absorb it all.
"Running. A fountain; a door in the time of space."
Calaveras smiled, a curiously coy twist of her rubied lips that chilled the spine of a passing bank worker. Casually did she gesture with her fingers, a curling of the digits into a fist, to rip his spirit out of his body with the ease of taking a breath. As his fat, fleshy body tumbled onto the concrete, his heart so suddenly stopped, his spirit screamed. "Wiseman-sama, our victory is at hand; feast on the agony of the 21st century and know my work!"
As she rose into the air, the entire street lifted their heads to watch, stopping in mid-step. With the events of the Dark Kingdom still relatively fresh, they began to panic with the realization that maybe it hadn't all been a dream or a freak act of the weather. When she began laughing at the sight of them, huddled like so much cattle, they started to trample one another trying to escape. Gesturing as they ran, she wrenched their souls free with the ease of one, gathering them like a protoplasmic ball between her hands, a hundred screaming bodies left to writhe on the concrete with spastic twitching.
It had always amused her that she had been considered the weakest of her sisters simply because she couldn't throw fire or blast people with wind or some silly element. That instead she could see into the realm of the spirits, and commune with them.
Floating easily in the wind, a small globe between her hands the size of a softball containing traumatized, confused souls in the triple digits, she cried out, "Now, your payment, my loyal friends! Take of their fleshly bodies and live again; and remember who rewarded you all so handsomely, and that she is merely a tool of the Phantom!"
The air became suffocating at the sudden flight of a million souls shooting downward past her, bodies flopping as if jolted by electricity as they were filled. Priests who had robbed their shrines woke up as chaste schoolgirls; women who had been beaten by their husbands awoke as office workers; old, cancerous men woke as schoolboys. She released the spirits between her hands to fill the void, and they exploded into their new existence horribly confused and screaming to wake up.
As satisfying as the sight was, Calaveras had pressing business. Even as she turned in the sky, staring out across a city expanse of miles, she could see the jagged tears of time and space she and her sisters had created. They pulsated like purple bruises, throbbing indignantly as they slowly, slowly healed over. But the spirit had said it was a door, which meant an opening specifically attuned to open, not a rip forced.
Then, she saw it.
As merrily as a neon sign did it glow in the air above Juuban, as if knowing she had been looking for it. Grinning in anticipation of the hunt, Calaveras ripped open her own door across space with more than a bit of glee. Looking through before she actually entered she saw an even more delicious sight; "The Rabbit," she moaned, unconscious and sprawled next to a burbling fountain. Luna P hovered above, beeping frantically as the medium stepped through, tipping her head down at Chibi-Usa thoughtfully. "Now, what could have possibly done this? Perhaps honest death was too much for your clean white hands? The shouting of a hundred traumatized souls too loud for your deaf ears?"
From her waist she slid a small dagger, ornate of handle to be used in sacrifice. Luna P's beeping was now klaxon and absolutely terrified as it sped at Calaveras, bouncing around and off of her. She snarled, slicing through the air trying to smack it away as the mechanical head continued to assault her. "Blasted device!" Quick movements brought her elbow around to smash between Luna P's bulbous eyes, halting it in mid-air long enough for the blade to cut deep across its face to expose a tiny crystal within. No hardware or messy wires powered the contraption; it was this crystal she pulled out, dropping it beside Luna P as it fell to the ground.
Blade still in hand, she turned back to Chibi-Usa casually, advancing once more. "Now, my blasphemous child, where was I?"

"Mamoru! Mamoru, open the door!" Again did a fist smash into the nondescript wood, cracking it slightly. Inside they could hear footsteps and, strangely, paws; when the door finally did open, Mamoru, Luna, and Artemis all stared out.
Alex hoisted Minako back into her arm, having set her down to knock; in the other, she held Usagi, both still quite unconscious. Of course, the long flowing gown on Usagi was unusual in itself. "What the hell took you so long?"
The dark-haired prince blinked, still somewhat unsure as to how he was supposed to take her rather forward mannerisms. "I was summoning my friends."
He found himself catching Usagi as she was unloaded into his arms. "You don't mean your generals, do you?" the tall red-head asked quietly, re-adjusting her carry of Minako. At Mamoru's surprised nod, she sighed. "Good. I hoped they would be freed once Metallia was gone. I remember their betrayal better than I daresay you do, but I know it was out of confusion. Not hatred."
"Endymion-sama would never befriend such men," Luna piped up helpfully beneath them, trotting out of the way of their feet. The tall red-head completely ignored custom and headed straight for the couch, setting Minako comfortably across it as Artemis followed.
Mamoru hurried to set Usagi down in an armchair, still warm from his sitting in it, and there he knelt to stroke her cheek. Confused and horribly worried. "Alex, what happened to them?" he queried, frantic enough to forget the honorific.
"Chibi-Usa." Lightly brushing a few strands of hair out of Minako's face, Alex frowned. "She somehow knocked them both out with a sleeping gas-"
"Shimatta…" Luna whispered frantically. The feline stood atop the armchair looking down at her charge, who murmured in her sleep. "Her brooch, it's gone! Chibi-Usa has taken it!"
"She took it and leapt off my balcony," Alex muttered as she stood up. "Floated off by umbrella. I couldn't grab her in time, but I don't think she's done it with bad intentions. She resonated with the Ginzuishou."
The dark-haired prince and feline alike stared incredulously at her.
A clock ticked in the second silence that followed, once, twice. When Luna finally found her voice, all she could do was cough as if to clear her throat. "You can't be serious. Resonate? That's impossible, Alex-san!"
"Don't you think I know that, Luna?" she snapped back. "But I saw it. The girl resonated with the crystal when she touched it. She had the sign of the moon on her brow. And Usagi was dressed like this after it happened."
"Uunnngh…."
Usagi swung over, smacking Luna down beneath her hand atop the chair. Luna screeched, swatting the blonde's hand away before Mamoru could remove it; it was, most likely, the claws that had Usagi screaming into wakefulness. "ITAAAAI-II!"
"I didn't do it, mama, it wasn't my-oh," Minako stammered, waking up abruptly as well, flailing up in an act of anger. She sagged down on the couch, looking around rapidly. "Where are we and where's the pink-haired brat?"
"Taking an umbrella ride," Alex replied to the second. "Though I think 'brat' at this conjuncture is a bad description."
Artemis, his tail whipping back and forth in the usual signs of anger, leapt into Minako's willing lap. "This is a bad situation. If Chibi-Usa has the Ginzuishou and Usagi-chan's brooch, how can she become Sailor Moon if the enemy arrives?"
Usagi's face blanked. "What do you mean she has my brooch?"
Above her head, Luna was showing the same anger as her white counterpart, pacing the top of the armchair. "We simply have to find her before the enemy does, or perhaps trick them. Make them think Sailor Moon is fighting them…"
"What do you mean, she has my brooch?"
"Did you happen to take Serenity's illusion pen?" Alex asked the black feline, standing in a rigid posture that spoke of her annoyance at being unable to pace as Luna did.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHE HAS MY BROOCH!?" Usagi shrieked above them all, making every single person in the room jump.
Gasping, her hand clutched to where her bow would normally be on her breast, the odango-haired blonde felt strangely…naked. She had gotten so used to feeling the weight of her brooch, the warmth of her crystal, that losing them was like losing her arm. Her dislike of Chibi-Usa was growing into something far stronger with every passing second.
Unsure of how to answer, they all traded somewhat abashed looks with one another as Usagi's eyes widened. Finally, Alex said, "Chibi-Usa took it after she put you to sleep. But we can get it back, as soon as we find her; you can do that." She caught Usagi's gaze, and held it. "It's a part of your spirit, tsukimidango; you could find her in the middle of the deepest cavern on Earth if you wanted to."
"H-hai," Usagi whimpered. "I could. I can feel it now…like a far-off breeze, warming my skin." Looking down, she gingerly lifted a fold of her white dress, confusion writ on her face. "Why am I dressed like this?"
She stood up, still groggy from the gas. As she moved the gown slowly dissolved into her school uniform, though her neck kerchief was loose, its knot undone. She lifted a hand to her head as Mamoru steadied her, smiling at him. "Arigatou, Mamo-chan."
"Let's find Chibi-Usa then, ne, Usagi-chan?" Minako said brightly, hopping up to take her friend's hand. The odango-haired blonde nodded, smiling; but the smile turned to dread as a tremor passed over her. Minako didn't feel it, nor did Mamoru or the felines.
But Alex bent over double, a scream bitten in half as she felt Calaveras' work in the streets. It was an onslaught of pain and emotions, and no doubt any other person in Tokyo who had even the slightest bit of sensitivity had paused in their actions, feeling a cold wind, as Usagi had. "It's so many…!" Alex gasped out as she fell to a knee. "So many people just…screamed…in pain, and suffering…"
"The enemy!" Artemis said, oh-so-intuitively, looking towards Luna.
"We have to find Chibi-Usa, before they find her first." Mamoru's voice was low, but authoritative. He held Usagi to his chest as Minako helped Alex stand, and he saw the nod of agreement the red-head gave him before he turned away. "If Chibi-Usa resonates with the Ginzuishou, then it could be we've been suspecting the wrong person all along."
All they could do was run as they left the apartment building; a bus or taxi would be too slow, costly. Usagi, holding her prince's hand, was in the lead with a surprising burst of stamina that only her determination could give her. She had seen three of her friends taken by the Black Moon, and though she thought of Chibi-Usa with little to no love, she now would protect the child from them at all costs. For her to have resonated with the powerful crystal…it meant there was a bond that even Usagi had to recognize.
It was there, too; the moment Mamoru had said it, she realized what the feeling was inside of her head. Like a song in her mind since she had birthed it, the Ginzuishou was now a chorus; a second harmony had been added. The harmony was what led her now, a slightly frantic sound that drove her on faster, near to the breaking point as she spotted the park. "There!" she yelled back. "From where she fell from the sky…!"
Minako and Alex broke away in flawless motion, leaping into a tree near the wall blocking the park from the street. They used it to jump over the wall into the park without breaking stride, and seconds later, Usagi could feel the surge of magic as Minako, at least, transformed. It was a familiar feeling. Unsure of what to do, she slowed down at the entrance, Mamoru and the two felines halting beside her. "What can I do, Luna? I can't become Sailor Moon without my brooch."
"We wait," Luna said briskly.

Calaveras was in the act of bringing the blade down when she spotted the golden gleam out of the corner of her eye. At first, she could dismiss it. But as it came closer, its sharp whine louder as it cut through the air, she realized that somehow the wretched soldiers had found her. She pulled her arm back just as the boomerang, aimed for her blade, sailed by and ricocheted off the stone of the fountain. It sliced deep through her back as it arced back for its owner, and her scream was quite angry at being tricked.
Sailor Venus caught it.
The blood stained her white glove a watered burgundy, but she ignored it as she smiled haughtily at Calaveras. "For this age, still the love of Pisces, Sailor Venus is champion! Attacking helpless children with such violence, no one can forgive you for that!"
"You don't need to apologize, Sailor Venus. Simply taste defeat as revenge for my sisters!" Calaveras laughed, lifting her arms.
As Rubeus had seen hours earlier, the three spirits of her sisters began to form above her head. But this time they were animated, their vacant faces contorted with hatred. "Strike, my lovely sisters!" the medium cried, motioning towards the long-haired blonde as Koan, impossibly enough, shot a ball of flame towards the soldier.
But it was met by a similar power, as a second fireball smashed into it, both twisting into the air to vanish. "This is the power of our enemies? At least give my soldiers something to sweat over!"
Calaveras froze, staring at the Crystal Guardian as she leapt out of the tree behind Venus, landing easily on her feet. She most definitely had not anticipated this, and even forewarned, she was already beginning to panic. "Petz! Onee-san! Strike, strike!" she shrieked.
Both soldiers flinched as the wind slammed into them, threatening to blow them back into the wall. Petz, her eyes narrowing in hatred, increased the pressure to slide them back across the grass, uprooting shrubs around them. "The one who took Jupiter!" Venus yelled into the wind, slowly pulling her arm around to aim with a considerable effort. "I won't allow her to beat me….." Finally did she summon her chain, its links flying straight into the wind as if it didn't even exist, to wrap once, twice, thrice, around a tree trunk. She saw, astonishingly, as she herself was lifted off her feet, her ally fly into the air. A hand raised as if to ward off a blow, and Venus saw the wind, literally saw it, part before the Guardian and continue on past her.
Petz, quite dead and past such fears, was startled enough to stop the wind, and Venus fell flat on her face.
But, rolling to her feet immediately, the long-haired blonde took the opportunity to sprint over to Chibi-Usa's side as the three spirits and their white-faced sister continued to stare at the tall red-head, who was slowly advancing on them. Picking the child up, Venus heard something crunch beneath her heel; a few small shards of glass sifted down as she lifted her foot. Shrugging, she grabbed the inert Luna P as well and ran like hell for the park entrance.
The tremor of magic wasn't even enough to slow her down, though the sudden blast of heat again had her all but leaping out of the park proper and onto the sidewalk, not that it was any safer. In her arms, Chibi-Usa began to stir, and a passing elderly man gave her a lecherous look that spoke of very naughty things with a live octopus. Clutched in the girl's fist still was Usagi's brooch, and Venus gently pulled it free as the odango-haired blonde and her prince ran to them.
"Is Alex-san still fighting the enemy?" Luna demanded as Venus gave the brooch up. Smiling, the blonde nodded.
"No worries, Luna. Though it isn't her place to fight as a common soldier; you know that." Looking towards her princess as she gently transferred Chibi-Usa to Mamoru's arms, she said, "Transform, Usagi-chan!"
Above the height of the wall, a great geyser of flame spun up into the sky. Venus ran back as Usagi cried, "Moon Crystal Power! Make Up!" and let the transformation lift her. It felt soothing to don the persona of Sailor Moon, a fact she regarded with some bitterness, and as she settled on her toes again, she impetuously kissed Mamoru. "Be sure to save me, Tuxedo Kamen-sama," she whispered before running again, into a vision of hell.
Or, not quite hell, but hot enough for it. She saw Venus released her Crescent Beam at Rubeus, who stood protected by the geyser of fire still visible outside the park. He looked quite pissed, cowering as he was behind his power; Calaveras, unconscious, her body twisted from a blow, lay behind him on the grass.
Sailor Moon came up between Venus and the Guardian, who was strangely quiet and aloof. "Sailor Moon, you'll have to use your power," she commented idly. "Only healing magic can break through Rubeus' flames."
The odango-haired blonde nodded, feeling her rod materialize in her fist. "But can't you do something, Guardian-sama?"
"One can't fight fire with fire forever," she replied mildly. "The purple-haired one was weak; this one is stronger, and smarter." She relaxed into a fighting stance, adding, "we'll cover you, of course. Now do it!"
"Hai!" Sailor Moon leapt forward, sensing, not seeing, her two allies moving behind her. Rubeus recalled the last time she had tried cleansing him, obviously, as he began to back up, feeding his flames in desperation to keep her away. The heat grew more intense as fire broke off from the main geyser, snapping at them like hydra's heads.
A golden beam smashed into one, knocking it away as Sailor Moon ran beneath it. Another slammed into the air inches away from her ribs, close enough to blister her skin but not touch. She jumped up, screaming, "Moon Princess Halation!" as she swung the rod high into the air like a lightning rod above her head. The light that blasted from the orb at its end was dazzling enough to blind any looking directly at it.
Rubeus howled in indignation as his flames withered beneath the assault, even as he continued to feed them. Aloft by her own power, Sailor Moon continued to feed her will into the weapon, destroying the fire as it grew. Below, Venus huddled with the Guardian beneath her cape, their eyes already seeing stars as, in essence, a second sun burned in the sky.
But it wasn't enough. Though Calaveras, unconscious and unprotected, had already been blasted to powder and slag mercifully by Sailor Moon's power, Rubeus continued to fight. Tuxedo Kamen shielded his eyes as he stepped into the park, able to see by his angle that the red-haired man was still standing. "Shimatta," he swore. "Even under Sailor Moon's power, he's still standing…!"
Nearby he could see the blue hump that was, in essence, his cowering allies. Neither of them could have been able to attack Rubeus in such a blinding light; they would have been blinded. And Sailor Moon, his princess, only knew that he was still alive and that she had to continue fighting. It left him to do something, but damned if he knew what; he had no projectile powers he could use in such a situation except for a rather flimsy cane.
Surely he'd had more power than this in his previous life…! Cursing his uselessness, he looked around frantically for something to use, even a tree branch to swing. "Kunzite, I wish to the gods you were still here to instruct me now, because I need it!" he muttered, blinking as the light suddenly shut off, and Sailor Moon screamed.
His princess fell from the sky, her leg scorched. Rubeus, in a posture of attack, his face still in the contortions of a snarl, moved to pounce on her.
The dark-haired prince felt his heart stop. Kick starting, it pounded faster and harder in his chest, coinciding with the warmth growing in his hands, flooding his veins. The power he knew he had, but how did he call it, for the love of the kami…!
Venus, still partially blinded, pointed towards Rubeus, her finger glowing, her lips moving to use her power.
But what everyone heard was "Tuxedo LA SMOKING BOMBER!"
The long-haired blonde was blown back over the Guardian as the energy blasted from Tuxedo Kamen's outstretched hands, slamming Rubeus away in mid-air to slam into a tree trunk. The red-haired man didn't even bother to curse at them, using what power he had left to tear open an escape portal and flee.
The Crystal Guardian, eloquently, summed it up for everyone: "Holy fucking shit."
Tuxedo Kamen stumbled in his steps as he started walking towards them, tackled from behind by a precocious pink-haired child. Her cry of "Mamo-chan!" startled them all even more than the tall red-head's exclamation, turning heads; Luna and Artemis ran past them to the two blondes.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Chibi-Usa wailed, clutching onto Tuxedo Kamen's leg. "But I had to do it, for mama…!"
"Do what, Chibi-Usa? Take the Ginzuishou?" Venus asked slowly, picking up Artemis as she stood.
"Taking my brooch….yes, and where were you running to? Tell us everything, Chibi-Usa! Are you an enemy?" Sailor Moon demanded.
Pink eyes shining with tears, Chibi-Usa held aloft the crystal she wore around her neck. "The Ginzuishou of the past, and the future, I had to have them! It was dangerous, but I needed the power to help my mama and my world!"
"The past and the future?"
"How is that possible?"
"It is possible!" the pink-haired child cried. "And you have to help me save it, please! Sailor Moon," she pleaded, "you have the power to save the future! My mama…iie…the 30th century is going to be destroyed forever!
"Sailor Moon, the legendary sailor soldier…please! Save the 30th century!" ï Act 16 Act 18 ð