“You see, all you have to do is to plug it in here, connect it to the... thing over there and you're online.”, Minako exclaimed and touched Makoto's head in the most annoying manner. The girl opposite her looked to the ceiling as if to make contact with the gods hidden far above them in the sky. “Really, Makoto, I cannot understand how you can go without internet access in your new flat. What do you do if you want to know what the weather is like?”, Minako asked while she untangled the wires under the desk.
Makoto sighed. “I look out of my window.”
“But what about the bank? If you have to transfer money?”
Another sigh.
“I take my purse and a ten minute walk until I am at the actual bank.”
“How about shopping? There is this lovely website which sells French designer clothes for half the price!”
A frown.
“Minako, there are lots of perfectly adequate shops here in Tokyo. Believe it or not, some even sell French designer clothes and twice a year, there is this thing called a sale.”
“Recipes? Thousands of exciting new recipes? From all over the world!”
“Did you see the bookshelves over there? The big ones? What kind of books do you think I own? Cookbooks, Minako, cookbooks!”
“But what if you want to find out something about someone?”
A groan and the distinct sound of someone banging their head against the wall. “I ask!”
“Now that is just ridiculous! If you met a guy, and you wanted to know whether he is a man-whore, then...”
“A what? Good lord, Minako, have you been watching Grey's Anatomy again?”
The blonde just waved her hand. “Don't even try to distract me! You obviously need help to realize how important the internet is these days and luckily for you, I am more than prepared to show you.”
Breathing slowly in and out, Makoto counted to ten before she answered.
“But if I ever needed the internet, which I assure you I don't, I can use it at your place or at Ami's. Or I can go to one of the countless cafes with internet access all over town. These annoying places where people go to be cool, with their fancy portable computers. They don't even look at the delicious cakes that are being sold, they are just online. So annoying.”
Minako emerged from under the desk and looked at Makoto sternly. “But internet is included in your rent. And you have a computer. It would be silly not to use it. Also...” The pause was accompanied by a wide smile that made the brunette senshi fear for the worst. “You can find out what people think about you!”
“Excuse me?”
A sly smile tugged at the corner of Minako's mouth. Ha, got you! She crouched in front of the desk, and went on to the Google website. “You just type 'Sailor Jupiter', click on search and TADAA! 45.000 sites featuring your name on the web.”
Makoto looked over Minako's shoulder at the screen. “45.000...”, she repeated slowly, eyebrows raised. Snapping out of it, she closed the site. “No, not interested. Not at all.”
The younger girl snorted and then began to sing: “Liar, liar, shoes on fire”.
“It's pants, Minako, pants on fire.”
Ours later, after her most annoying friend had finally left more or less triumphantly, Makoto made herself a hot chocolate and took a seat at her desk. “Stupid Minako”, she muttered under her breath. After reading some entries about herself, she typed in the names of her fellow senshi. Mars had 67.000 entries to her name, which was doubtlessly due to her ridiculous shoes. People just had these dirty fantasies about crime-fighters in bright red stilettos. Mercury had 166.000 hits, which made Makoto choke on her hot drink. Curiously, she went to check on Sailor Moon and Sailor Venus, and then slowly, she spent the night googling everyone and everything she ever encountered.
Hours later, taking a deep breath, she began typing, without any hope of an result.
N-e-p-h-r-i-t-e. It was such a stupid idea. The media was almost never aware of the names of the enemies the senshi fought, so her chances of finding information (pictures in particular) about a man twice dead were slim to say the least. And why did she even bother? Most likely, any result would be about these thrice damned gems, and not about the man himself.
465.000 hits. She plunged in, not even noticing that a frosty morning had arrived.
