Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Requiem for a Soldier ❯ Requiem Aeternum/Kyrie Eleison ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Hello hello! This is your author speaking! Please put your computer
chair in its upright position, put all dinner trays back, and turn off
all electronics (except your computer, of course!). Fasten your
seatbelts according to the instructions of our lovely steward, Mamo-
chan, wearing only a loincloth. Isn't he lovely (ready to join the
mile-high club yet?)? We know you had a selection of stories you could
have read today, and we thank you for choosing "Requiem." Sit back,
relax, and let the TAFF-fest ensue.

Special thanks to Loralei Fairhill, who tireless editing efforts
whipped this bad boy into shape. You've done wonders for me, babe.

* * * * * * * *

Requiem for a Soldier
Part I: Requiem Aeternum/Kyrie Eleison (Eternal Rest)
Author: Ai
E-mail: tennyo@attbi.com
Disclaimer: Sailormoon does not belong to me.


It was quiet for once in Tokyo; the dull roar of the city seemed no
more than an insolent drone. A cold gale blew harshly around the young
girl, chilling her to the bone. Everything around her was old, worn.
Even the sky seemed tired and dim.

She saw the blood red leaves fall from the maple trees around her. Her
long pigtails blew aimlessly around her face.

Time passes, seasons change. Everything dies, only to blossom again
next Spring.

Ami once told her the story of Hades and Persephone: how Demeter
refused to let the earth bear fruit because her daughter had been
stolen away, how her precious child was bound to return to the dark
underworld because Hades had tricked her into eating the food of the
dead. In Spring, when Persephone came home, everything was beautiful
again.

A nice enough story. Creepy, but nice. And once in a while she dared to
wonder if Persephone hated the underworld, if she had been really
kidnapped, or maybe. . . just maybe . . . but that wasn't the point.
Persephone was kidnapped. That was all there was to it.

So with a heavy sigh, she pulled out her star locket and opened it. She
kept it with her these days, as if to remind her . . . of something.
The soft, tinkling music pervaded her ears. Funny how it used to bring
her such comfort.

Funny how things change.

With an infuriated gesture, she snapped it shut, rapidly cutting the
soothing music off.

He'd been so distant since he'd returned from America. Cold, even.
And yet she couldn't exactly put her finger on what it was that had
come between them. Maybe she'd changed, but if she knew anything, it
was that she would always be Usagi, for better or for worse. He never
answered his phone, even when she knew he was home, and he concentrated
on his schoolwork with an almost frightening intensity. That was the
thing about Chiba Mamoru; with him, you were everything or nothing at
all. Except . . . Usagi never knew what she meant to him.

Right now, however, it was leaning towards nothing.

For a while, she'd even wondered if he'd found someone else, but when
she approached him he denied it feverishly, frantically swore that she
was the only one for him.

But if that were true, why wouldn't he touch her? Why wouldn't he look
her in the eye?

With quick, jerky movements, she pulled her coat around her. It was so
cold. It made her wonder if he had somehow caused it. Usagi pushed
roughly through the silent crowds.

And crashed smack-dab into someone.

She looked up and blushed. Mamoru's lanky form towered above her,
gazing at her listlessly. Figured.

"Good afternoon, Usa-ko."

Usa-ko. What a joke.

"Hey, Mamoru," Usagi didn't notice him wince, "how're you?"

"Fine," he said, staring intently at her. He made no move towards her,
simply clutched the book he was holding a little harder.

Normally she loved those deep blue eyes, but the feel of them staring
so formidably at her, full of passion but completely unreadable, was
beginning to make her a little angry. She remembered it, three nights
ago, in a restaurant that charged as much as a new manga for a mere
soda. The way she'd yelled at him while he simply sat there, staring at
her in that exact same way.

He finally looked down. "Still angry?" His face was drawn, pale.

"You bet I am," she bit back saucily. If he could just . . . if he
would. . . "If you'd just talk to me, Mamo-chan--"

Mamoru turned away from her abruptly. "I have a class, Usa-ko. We'll
talk about this later." It took everything he had not to run, but she
didn't know that. He didn't expect her to know, much less understand.

"NO WE WON'T!" she screamed at the retreating figure. "BECAUSE YOU
WON'T TALK TO ME AT ALL!"

He didn't even look back.

Damn him. The wind blew harder and the clouds rolled in. A hot, fat
drop slipped down her face--at first, she thought it was the rain.
Swiping furiously at her cheek, she started to sprint away, longing to
be anywhere but here, anyone but herself right now . . .

And she crashed into someone else.

"Still can't seem to go anywhere without crashing into people, ne,
neko-chan?"

She looked up. "Haruka-san?"

The slim, boyish blonde smiled and ruffled Usagi's hair. "It's been a
while, hasn't it?"

"Mm-hmm," Usagi said softly, trying to sound cool and composed. The
Outers had always seemed the epitome of inner poise to her; Usagi
desperately wished she could have Haruka's relentless confidence or
Michiru's cool elegance. Maybe then Mamoru wouldn't be drifting away
from her . . .

"Is something the matter, neko-chan? You look sad."

She pulled her chin up and plastered on a smile. "I'm fine, Haruka-
san."

Haruka smirked. "Nice try, neko-chan, but you're a terrible liar. God,
it's cold out here! How about we go some place and warm up?"

With a real smile, Usagi allowed Haruka to lead her to the parking
garage.

* * * * * * * *

"Chamomile?"

"Sounds yummy." Usagi drank the tea Michiru had poured for her in three
gulps. She'd never been to Haruka and Michiru's home, the stately
mansion by the sea decorated in soft, cool colors expertly chosen to
augment each room's best features yet still seem unified--undoubtedly
the artistic Michiru's work. Her paintings dotted the walls. Opulent,
no doubt, but there was something about the house that still seemed
cozy. It felt like a real home.

Usagi remembered how Mamoru's apartment never really felt like a home,
more like a hotel room. As if he--and she--were merely strangers
passing through by chance.

"Something on your mind, Usagi-chan?" Michiru smiled kindly. "You look
distracted."

"I've never been here before," Usagi said very solemnly, still staring
at the walls.

"You haven't?" Haruka was sprawled on the couch, her head hanging down
to the floor. "I thought you'd been to our little cottage by the sea,
as Michiru likes to put it."

"Iie." Usagi stood up and stared out the glass doors. The sea was
churning viciously that afternoon; it was stormy, like the sky. "It's
so . . . homey."

"Home is where the heart is," Michiru shrugged, blushing at her corny
statement.

"And the bedroom," Haruka added wickedly, winking at Michiru. Her
partner turned red; Usagi giggled. As she'd gotten older, she'd come to
terms with the nature of Haruka and Michiru's relationship. Minako had
once told her she was more mature than any of the others for her
unconditional acceptance, and the couple seemed truly grateful that
their Princess accepted them so fully.

Right now, she sensed Michiru sit down next to Haruka and start
bantering with her partner. Despite the argumentative tone, Usagi could
almost hear the love in her voice . . . almost like something she could
reach out and touch.

Usagi turned around. "How do you two do it?" she asked, staring at her
shoes.

"Do what?" the two Outers asked simultaneously.

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I guess . . . how are you so right for
each other?"

"Right for each other?"

"It's so easy for you," she muttered at them, flopping onto the couch.
"You just . . . love each other. There's nothing *difficult* about it."

Michiru looked at Haruka and little light bulbs went off over their
heads. "Usagi-chan, are you having problems with Mamoru-san?"

"I don't even know," she whispered sadly. "It's like I'm reaching out
but he's still too far away."

"He loves you, you know," Haruka said very seriously. "Even if he isn't
really comfortable with it." She turned right side up and muttered
something about a head rush. Michiru patted her lover's woozy skull and
smirked.

"Comfortable?" Usagi was too perplexed to pay attention.

Michiru sat next to Usagi and wrapped an arm around the smaller girl.
"He's not exactly an open book, Usagi-chan, but I don't think Mamoru-
san likes the idea that he needs someone else as much as he really
does. Try to be patient with him."

"I DO try!" Usagi cried, bounding up from the sofa. "Why does he always
pull away from me? The first thing he did after he came back from the
dead was call Harvard and see if they'd still take him! He stayed an
extra seven months, and . . . and ever since he got back . . . he won't
talk to me, won't touch me, he's always so . . . so. . . ." Usagi
flopped next to the dangling Haruka.

When she sat down, the star locket fell out of her coat and opened,
playing its soft melody for the two elder senshi. Michiru's ears
pricked like a rabbit's as she listened intently to the small tune.

"Lousy thing," Usagi muttered, snapping it shut.

"Wait a minute!" Michiru cried. "What was that?"

"This . . .? My star locket. It's from the Moon Kingdom. I gave it to
Endymion before I died, and Tuxedo Kamen gave it to me."

"I recognize it," Michiru said impatiently, "but what was that song?"

Haruka put a hand to her forehead. "Oh God, here we go again..."

"Well excuse me for seeking immortality, Ten'oh Haruka!"

"What?" Usagi was decidedly confused.

"Michiru's decided that being the best violin AND cello player in the
free world isn't enough for her," Haruka groaned. "So she started
composing. But there's a problem."

"What's that?" Usagi asked.

"Composer's block," Haruka said with a smirk.

Usagi stared at Michiru. "Composer's block?"

"In other words, I can't write a damn note," Michiru scowled and threw
a pillow at Haruka. Usagi realized that it must be bad if Michiru had
been reduced to cursing and hurling projectiles through the air.

Haruka easily caught the pillow and shook her head. "Maybe you're just
not cut out for immortality, Michi."

"With an attitude like that, *Ruka*," she hissed, "I probably won't ever
write a note."

"That's what you get for aiming to high," Haruka said smoothly. "What
did the Greeks call it? Hubris?"

"So maybe trying to write an entire Requiem was a little ambitious, but
your condescending remarks don't help me, Haruka!"

"Re-kii-em?"

Michiru and Haruka stopped arguing. "A death mass," Haruka explained
flatly. "It's an old Catholic prayer that a bunch of composers have set
to music. Mostly dead white guys."

"That's morbid," Usagi said seriously, staring at Michiru.

"No, it's not," Michiru sighed. "And that brings me back to the reason
all this started. May I hear the song the locket plays?"

Usagi reluctantly opened the locket, which played for the trio. Michiru
was enraptured, Haruka was bored but a little curious, and Usagi just
wanted the damn thing to shut up.

"Ne, Usagi-chan, is the music upsetting you?" Haruka, for once, had
lost her trademark sarcastic smirk and looked genuinely concerned for
the little odango-haired girl.

"I guess it is," Usagi admitted softly, closing the locket. "The music
only plays for true lovers," she explained. "But now it's just mocking
me."

"It's beautiful," Michiru whispered excitedly.

"My misery?" Usagi asked in confusion.

"Not exactly," Haruka rolled her eyes.

Michiru hurriedly sat down at the chestnut Steinway in the corner. With
graceful motions, she began to play the locket's song. Yet as she went
along, Usagi noticed the notes were somewhat changed, created a
different, equally beautiful harmony, much poignant than the locket's.
She stopped abruptly and starting writing eagerly on a blank page with
several music bars printed on it, grinning wildly all the while.

Haruka stared at her lover as if the girl had just grown a third eye.
"That's sick, Michiru-san, and I'll bet Usagi-chan wouldn't appreciate
it, either."

"Baka," Michiru growled at her lover without even looking up, "it's not
like I'm setting the words to the exact tune. It's just a starting
point. Inspiration."

"What is she doing?" Usagi asked Haruka nervously.

"She's using your 'true love song' to write her Requiem."

"MICHIRU!" Usagi screamed in horror. Michiru snapped to attention.
"Stop it RIGHT NOW!"

Michiru looked at the notes she'd scribbled. "Usagi-chan," she said
quietly, very resolutely, "I want to make beautiful music. Shouldn't
you be happy that your love inspires me to write?"

"I-I guess . . ." Usagi conceded reluctantly.

"If you were writing a 'Gloria' or something I'd be behind this one
hundred percent," Haruka said icily, arms crossed in front of her
chest, "but this is warped, Michiru. You're so intent on 'achieving
immortality' that you'd actually take a symbol of Usagi's love and
distort it like that. . . "

"It's not like that," Michiru said quietly, wringing her hands. She
looked up, her gaze watery. "Not like that at all."

"Then what IS it, Michiru?" Haruka demanded. "You know I support your
music, but neko-chan's song. . . ."

Michiru smiled faintly and pulled a folder from a cabinet under her
seat. "She used to compose the most beautiful music. . . ."

"Who?" Haruka raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"

"I'm breaking the code of silence."

Usagi finally interjected with, "What code of silence?"

Haruka hesitated. "We, ah, try not to talk about our lives before we
met," she said slowly. "Painful memories. A lot of baggage and all.
Michiru and I decided to leave our old lives behind . . . then again,"
Haruka smiled wistfully and stared out the window towards her car, "I
guess it's not that simple."

Ditzy as she may have been, Usagi understood things about her loved
ones most people could barely fathom. She could sense the 'code of
silence' had long since worn out its welcome.

Michiru, meanwhile, opened at the folder and gazed bleakly at the
papers, a sad smile lingering on her lips. Usagi looked over her
shoulder to see bars of handwritten notes written in a handwriting that
was similar but not exactly Michiru's. The lovely aqua-haired senshi
took a pained breath and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

The odango-haired blonde beamed. Usagi's smile was so bright it nearly
blinded the older senshi. "You don't have to tell me," she whispered.
"I can see how much this means to you now."

"What?" Haruka stood up and stared at the pages. "Did I miss
something?"

Usagi placed the locket on top of the folder. "Make your music. And
when you're all done with it, maybe then you'll be able to break the
code of silence."

Michiru looked at her with shining eyes. "I . . . I. . . "

"Make your beautiful music," Usagi repeated. She looked at the clock.
"It's getting late."

"I'll give you a ride, neko-chan," Haruka said, leading Usagi out the
door.

The girl looked up one last time. "Usagi-chan?"

"Yes?"

"You have no idea what this means to me."

"You'd be surprised." Usagi winked and practically danced out the door.

* * * * * * * *

Haruka waited until she was about a mile away from the house to finally
ask questions.

"So why did you let her use the song?" she asked, staring out at the
road.

"Because she was writing the music for someone she loved."

A slender neck snapped around. "Who?" she asked suspiciously.

"Her mother."

"Her . . . mother . . . but how did you . . . why would you. . . ."

"I just knew," Usagi shrugged. Haruka let out a low whistle and turned
back to the road.

When they finally arrived at Usagi's house, the clouds had rolled out
and the sky was pink as the last beams of sunlight faded away. Haruka
opened Usagi's door and stared at the sunset.

"It's pretty," Haruka said carefully, struggling to say what had been
on her mind since she'd watched Usagi and Mamoru argue that afternoon.

"Haruka-san . . . ?"

"Let me tell you something, Usa-chan," Haruka said seriously. "The sun
sets, but it'll rise tomorrow morning. Things change. Nothing ever
stays the same."

She knew Haruka was talking about Usagi's relationship with Mamoru.
"What do you mean, Haruka-san?"

The girl got back into the car and started the ignition. "I guess what
I'm trying to say," Haruka said slowly, "is that the only things that
last forever are the things you can't see with your eyes or touch with
your hands."

And she drove off into the sunset.

Something smiled in the darkness.

* * * * * * * *

Comments, complaints, criticisms can go to tennyo@attbi.com, but
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forward to hearing from you!