My independence is calling my name
A doubtful voice divides my faith
My independence only hesitates
An unsure choice I can't embrace
Will the plot ever twist
Or will I still resist
I've been playing the part of a lost realist
“Lost Realist” by Trapt
Minako couldn’t remember ever having been as happy as when she saw Usagi on the other side of that bridge.
When she had first arrived there and saw the same look of fear in the other girls’ eyes, each beginning to process the possibility that Tsukino Usagi might have negated her own existence, Minako had felt as if the world was spinning entirely too fast for her to keep a level head. It felt just like all of her blackouts, before she had opted for the dangerous surgery in the alternate timeline Usagi had created. She’d started to process the information, started to accept the possibility, started to wonder how drastically everything could have changed… And then she’d caught sight of the girl coming up over the horizon and all of that disappeared.
Usagi wasn’t dead. Usagi was alive. All of them were alive.
The reunion had been intense enough that the girls hadn’t wanted it to end. It had been Usagi who suggested the sleepover, but Minako was the one who offered up her apartment. Admittedly, it had partially been to see Usagi’s face in response to Minako’s lavish, privileged lifestyle, but Minako had seen no reason not to have a little fun at the (former) princess’s expense. Of course, Rei had insisted on calling her out on it immediately because she seemed to be under the impression that it was her duty in life.
Still, the event was on after the cats were sent off on their own, and Mamoru was placated with the assurances that he would have tomorrow and many tomorrows from that day onward. The trek to her penthouse was a short one, and Minako was rewarded with a dropped jaw and a bit of squealing from Usagi. It was enough to make up for the disapproving look Rei had given her, and more than enough for Minako to give her a smirk in return.
The evening went on predictably from there. Makoto had cooked a meal fantastic in its portions and its flavors and Ami had to be convinced that slouching would not ruin the furniture. There had been plenty of reminiscing, plenty of gossip, and plenty of figuring out where the differences between the first time around and the second lay. Eventually, Usagi had worn herself and all of the other girls out, and they fell asleep in various positions in the living room.
Well, everyone except Minako.
She attempted to brush it aside and count it as her occasional insomnia or perhaps just the excitement of being together with everyone under happy circumstances. But after lying there for several hours listening to the sound of Makoto wheezing and Usagi’s occasional mumbling, Minako decided that it wasn’t either of those things. It was something else entirely that she could not pinpoint – something she was going to have to figure out before she had any hope of getting to sleep that night.
It was at that moment that she chose to get up, carefully removing the arm Rei had flung over her leg some time before. She tip-toed over the four slumbering girls and made her way over to her balcony. She made sure to be careful when she slid open the door, wincing at the slightest noise and making sure that none of the others had heard her. Satisfied that no one had moved, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her.
Minako shivered slightly as she stepped out into the night air, a reaction she could attribute more to the sudden change from her warm penthouse to the chill of midnight. She hadn’t always been cold-natured, but it was something that she had grown accustomed to after spending so much time in hospitals. During one of her more morbid moments she had experienced shortly after her diagnosis, Minako had thought that the cold could be attributed to death hovering just above her, waiting to snatch her or any of the patients up at a second’s notice.
She still hated hospitals, but she didn’t mind the cold so much anymore.
Minako walked forward to the railing, leaning against it as if it was the only thing holding her up. It was hardly the truth, but Minako had made a habit of appearing deceptively fragile to the world. Saito said it suited her look more than the stubborn terror he said she actually was. She didn’t mind the façade. It had served her well in other matters.
She gazed up at the moon, tightening the left side of her lips together in what could have looked like a smirk to the casual observer. But anyone who knew her or anyone who bothered to look closely enough (which was generally restricted to those who really knew her anyway) would have seen that she was far from smiling. She was pensive, one might even say anxious, and if someone had presented her with that fact, she could not have said that they were wrong.
She just wouldn’t be able to tell them why.
It was ridiculous of course for her to be feeling this way. She had absolutely nothing to worry about anymore. Usagi had told them all that the Ginzuishou was gone and Metallia with it. The girls apparently didn’t have powers anymore as no one could locate their bracelets or anything else connected with their fight, which they could only assume meant that they weren’t going to have to use them again. Minako couldn’t even see the scars she knew she had sustained in previous battles, a fact she was quite pleased with for a variety of reasons.
And on a slightly less important note, there was nothing going wrong with her career either. She had just recently signed on to do three more commercials, four television guest appearances, and there was even talk of a movie deal in the works. She’d recorded “C’est la Vie” just that afternoon, a song that she now remembered had been incredibly successful in what Ami was referring to as “the alternate timeline.”
She had been originally scheduled to record the single several months earlier, but her surgery had postponed that for some time. Even though that particular bit of knowledge annoyed her, thinking back on her illness was something that brought her nothing but relief now. The procedure had been a miraculous success, or at least that’s what Saito had told the press. And the minute the public had gotten wind of the fact that their idol Aino Minako had been on the “brink of death,” sales from her old album and her latest merchandise sky-rocketed beyond anyone’s expectations. Saito assured her that this was a sign of only good things to come in the future, which meant that if “C’est la Vie” had been a success before, it could possibly be record-breaking now that her fame had escalated.
In short, there was absolutely nothing for her to lose sleep over, and yet there she was in the wee hours of the morning, troubled by an unknown issue that would not reveal itself easily. That in and of itself bothered her - Minako was hardly the type who saw value in deep introspection. She supposed she should have been thankful she had the opportunity to do it, but she much preferred action to thought. It was only because she had several important appointments the next day that required her being well-rested that she was even out there to think about it in the first place.
Minako sighed and leaned back on her heels, moving her hands like she was conducting an orchestra to occupy herself. It was frustrating to be ignorant of her own mind. Her thoughts were a part of her, and she didn’t see why they had to elude her now, especially at this hour. There was no tumor, there were no rivals, and there was no threat. Everyone was happy. Everyone was safe. Everyone was alive. Their enemies were dead, and there was nothing left for Sailor Venus to obsess over. So why was she feeling like this?
Minako suddenly stopped, her eyes widening. She felt her mouth go dry even as she murmured, “My enemies are dead.”
It was then that Minako realized that all of them weren’t alive. Four men had been killed in their war. Zoisite had been killed.
She nearly stumbled when she leaned back too far. She pulled herself forward to keep from falling, and now she most definitely was using the railing to hold her up. She felt everything go into a spiral, and for a moment she was afraid that she was having one of her blackouts. But she quickly discerned that her head wasn’t hurting – it just felt disconnected from her body. It was her stomach that pained her as a wave of nausea overtook her. She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling unbelievably warm, and tried to will away her distress.
This was precisely what she had felt like when Usagi told her what happened the first time, and she hadn’t understood it any better then than she did now. But that time she’d had her mission to think about. Even if she felt sick, she’d made sure that she wasn’t. After all, what did it matter to her if one of the Shitennou was dead? One less threat to her princess.
But that didn’t change how sick she felt when she thought about it. And this time she had nothing to focus on. She was left with nothing but her willpower to forget about it. Normally, she wouldn’t have doubted its strength, but she couldn’t help but feel weak at that moment as everything spun away from her.
She hated it.
“I thought you’d be out here,” a voice called quietly from behind her, followed by the sound of the sliding door being closed. Minako hadn’t heard it open.
She looked over her shoulder, blinking several times to focus her vision. Once everything felt like it was beginning to return to normal, Minako tried to decide whether or not she was surprised to see Rei there. She was shaken, but it had nothing to do with Rei. For that reason and others, Minako didn’t show it. Instead, she raised an eyebrow as best as her facial muscles would allow and said, “I thought you’d be in there. Sleeping.”
Rei shook her head, either not taking the hint or willfully ignoring it. “I felt you get up. You were keeping me warm, you know.”
“Sorry,” Minako responded quietly, not particularly meaning it and knowing that Rei didn’t want the apology anyway.
Rei moved to stand beside her, resting her forearms against the railing. Her wrists were limp like Minako’s and she followed the other girl’s gaze the horizon, but her back was straight while Minako slouched and she wasn’t rocking back and forth on her heels. Thus, it couldn’t be said that Rei mimicked her position. Still, Rei had made herself a presence now, and there would be no sending her back inside even thought Minako didn’t think she wanted the company.
“Are you all right?” Rei asked. “You don’t seem very cheerful.”
“I’m tired,” Minako murmured thoughtlessly.
Rei frowned, clearly not convinced. “If you were tired, you’d be asleep.”
“Aren’t you tired?” Minako questioned, her fingers starting to curl.
“I’m also cold,” Rei countered. “And now I’m worried about you, so don’t tell me to get a blanket from the linen closet hidden in the west wing and go back to bed.”
Minako rolled her eyes and began to fidget restlessly. “Don’t be ridiculous. There is no west wing.” She paused crack her neck, a result of the tension she was holding directly between her shoulder blades. “Why are you worried?”
Rei swallowed and briefly glanced over at Minako. “Because you seem sad. And troubled.”
“Is that not allowed?” Minako asked, trying to force a laugh into her voice and not quite succeeding.
“Not tonight,” Rei answered, taking her literally. “You should be happy. Everyone is safe.”
Minako shut her eyes briefly, but opened them quickly enough so that Rei probably thought she was just blinking. She wanted to say that no, everyone wasn’t safe. Some people were dead. That was the problem.
“Don’t tell me how I should feel,” Minako said evenly.
Rei ignored her, sighing a bit as she likely saw that last piece of information as irritating and irrelevant. “I just want to know what is wrong with you so that I can go back to sleep.”
Minako felt like she should probably deny the fact that anything was wrong, but on the other hand, that seemed silly. Rei was intuitive, a trait that Minako had found troublesome on more than one occasion. She knew that Minako was unsettled, and she wasn’t going to stop pestering her about it until Minako said something. Nevertheless, Minako had no interest in discussing her possible feelings towards an enemy who was dead anyway. It seemed pointless to her, and Minako couldn’t stand pointless acts.
“I don’t understand why you’re so concerned,” she said instead.
Rei looked like she very much wished that Minako kept potted plants on the ledge so that one could be thrown at her head. “Because you look like you’re brooding. You used to get that same look when you…” Rei trailed off, her eyes shutting too long for Minako to mistake it for a blink.
“When I what?” Minako asked, her curiosity betraying her.
Rei’s eyes flew open, her head whipping around to face Minako’s profile. The ends of Rei’s hair hit Minako’s shoulder and it stung a bit. “When you thought about your illness. When you thought about how you were going to die. That’s the look you had on your face after you told me you had about three months to live with a smile. That’s how you looked when you thought I wasn’t watching, and it scared me then just like it scares me now.”
Minako knew that she should turn and stare at Rei for what she was saying, but she couldn’t seem to get her neck to turn all the way. She pursed her lips, shifting uncomfortably and said, “Rei, I’m not dying. I had the surgery. I told you that.”
“Forgive me if I’m not quick to believe you,” Rei said, the bitterness in her voice surprising Minako. “You have a tendency to lie when it suits you.”
“I lied when I had to,” Minako said sharply. “And I’m not lying now.”
Rei shook her head, shrugging. “Can I believe that?”
Minako narrowed her eyes, wanting very much to turn and stare Rei in the face and still not quite managing to do it. Maybe she was afraid of the look in her eyes. Rei was one of two people who had been able to shame her with a glance. “You can believe that I was in surgery for nine hours. You can believe that they had to go in through my nose just to get at the tumor. You can believe that I had a seizure on the table when the doctor’s hand slipped and that I almost died anyway.” Minako paused, her fingernails digging crescent moon imprints into her palms. “Or you can believe nothing at all. It’s of no consequence to me.”
Rei looked down, apparently convinced at this point. Naturally, she didn’t apologize. “Is there a chance of remission?”
Minako nodded. “Always.”
Rei licked her lips, nodding a bit. “Can I get you to promise that you’ll take care of yourself?”
Minako blinked, uncertain of where this was leading but quite sure that she wasn’t going to like it when she figured it out. “What?”
Rei continued, not appearing to hear her. “And that you’ll tell us if something like this happens again?”
Minako stared for a moment, keeping her mouth closed due to the horror stories Saito liked to tell about bugs flying into singers’ mouths during outdoor concerts. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Why can’t you just promise me that much?” Rei asked, sounding very put upon.
“You act as if there’s a vitamin I can take or a diet regimen I can follow,” Minako countered, shaking her head. “If it comes back, it comes back, and I will deal with it.”
“Unless there’s another threat to the planet,” Rei remarked sourly.
Minako decided it was best not to respond to that, not even to remind her that they didn’t have their powers anymore. “I am not going to project ahead to something that probably won’t even happen.”
“That’s right,” Rei muttered, her tone not improving. “I forgot that Aino Minako doesn’t think about the future. She only thinks about the past. The present when it suits her. But the future? Never.”
Minako shut her eyes, trying to keep her temper in check but knowing that she wouldn’t succeed. She was always so in control, but Rei always knew just how to break her down. It didn’t help that she was already on edge.
Yes, she did have a tendency to think about the past. She fixated on her past life, and her present life, both of which she had lost. And now she was thinking about that man dressed in white, who had hardly been noble in the storybook sense. He had no interest in saving any damsels in distress, not that she would ever cast herself in that horrific role. He’d been loyal to his prince and to his planet, and that was something that she admired. He’d wanted nothing more than for Endymion to live and to save the Earth. He’d even asked for her help even though she could tell he hadn’t enjoyed one minute of it. But she had failed him when she hadn’t been there to stop Serenity from losing whatever was left of her restraint. And Rei was doing her no favors by reminding her of that.
“Why won’t you let this go?” Minako demanded, slamming her palms down on the railing.
“Because you died, Minako!” Rei exclaimed, nearly shouting, her voice wavering in a way that made Minako’s heart hurt even more than it already was. “Artemis came and told me you were dead and then I had to go tell the others. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
Minako swallowed, her gaze dropping from the stars to the ground. Rei was making her feel guilty, like her death had been something that she could have controlled, and that was only upsetting her more. As if she needed to be reminded of dying.
Rei didn’t wait for Minako to respond to her question and added, “That was the worst day of my life.”
“Don’t say that,” Minako instructed. “You don’t mean it. The world ended after I died.”
Minako could feel Rei’s eyes on her, intense enough to make Minako think that her hair was about to catch on fire. “I know.”
Now Minako did stare at Rei. Her eyes were wide when they met Rei’s gaze, scared and hurt and wanting nothing more than to hear that earlier apology once more with feeling. But Minako couldn’t make her mouth form to fit the words and her voice rebelled. She couldn’t make herself do it, and eventually Rei seemed to realize that.
The miko’s eyes shut wearily. “I just want you around, Minako.”
Minako swallowed, knowing the feeling all too well. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Rei looked into her eyes for a moment, studying Minako’s features. If Minako had been the sort of girl prone to being self-conscious, she supposed this would be one of those moments when that feeling popped up and she would have looked away. Thankfully, she’d always had very high self-esteem, so she held Rei’s gaze.
After awhile, Rei nodded once, pressing her lips together so that the bottom one disappeared entirely. The gesture was enough to let Minako know that Rei was going to let the subject drop, at least for the time being. She didn’t doubt that Rei would bother her about this on a fairly regular basis. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Rei and Saito wound up conspiring against her again in the near future.
“It isn’t about your illness,” Rei said, her eyes narrowed and probing Minako’s face for the slightest reaction. “Why are you on edge?”
Minako shrugged, feigning ease. “What makes you so sure I am?”
Rei frowned at her, almost scowling. “Now you’re insulting me.”
Minako looked at her for a minute, not necessarily surprised by the reaction, but blanching nonetheless. Then she smirked and said, “I’m out of practice with you.”
“Do you still not trust me?” Rei asked, assuming a stance that displayed her irritation, but Minako caught the tiny waver in her voice. It betrayed how hurt she was.
“It’s not about trust,” Minako assured her. “I do trust you, Rei. Not just with the prin—“ She stopped herself. The time for referring to Usagi by any sort of royal title had long since passed. “Not just with Usagi or with missions.”
Rei didn’t look at all convinced about this. “But you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s wrong.”
Minako closed her eyes, wishing that Rei wasn’t just as stubborn as she was. It made their conversations very tiresome. After a minute, she inhaled deeply and said, “I’m not someone who enjoys being coddled or comforted. I don’t like to be hugged, and I despise anything resembling pity or sympathy.”
“Shocking,” Rei drawled.
“I’m trying to explain,” Minako said, almost snapping. “I’m not going to tell you what’s wrong because even though you won’t hug me like Usagi would, you’d still do something to try and make me feel better.”
Rei arched an eyebrow. “And this is a bad thing?”
Minako sighed quietly, trying to make it look like it wasn’t a sigh. “If I’m going to feel better, I want to do it by myself.”
“Because that’s worked out so well in the past,” Rei countered, her temper quickly rising.
“Stop it,” Minako said loudly, holding up a hand. It was a forceful movement, but that didn’t change the fact that her hand was shaking, something she didn’t notice until after she’d made the gesture. She knew Rei was staring at it, shocked by the chink in her armor. Minako followed her gaze after a moment, swallowing.
She dropped her arm a moment later and continued. “Please, stop it.”
And she was going to be fine. Zoisite was dead. He was dead and he wasn’t going to come back, but what did that matter to her? She’d barely known him. All she really knew about him was that he played the piano and that his dedication to his master had been admirable, although it had verged on obsession.
It was a quality they had in common.
“Are you going to come back inside?” Rei asked finally, rousing Minako from her thoughts.
Minako scarcely hesitated before shaking her head. “I’m still… thinking.”
“Thinking,” Rei repeated. She seemed to mull over this for a moment before moving back over to the railing, looking up at the moon. She exhaled sharply and said, “I’ll stay with you.”
Minako turned to stare, her eyes wider than she would have liked. “What?”
“I’ll stay with you until you want to go back inside,” Rei reiterated.
Minako was glad that she wasn’t prone to letting her mouth hang open like Usagi sometimes did. It was embarrassing enough to be blinking as rapidly as she was. Still, she was able to set that aside, her lips moving before her brain really registered what she was saying. “Thank you.”
“Don’t,” Rei said, suddenly just as guarded as Minako was. “I told you. You were keeping me warm.”
Minako couldn’t help but smile and assumed her place next to Rei, following her gaze to the heavens. “Right.”
The smile didn’t remain for very long, however. Her thoughts soon turned back to Zoisite, a line of thinking that was more than enough to darken her expression. And as much as she told herself that it didn’t matter, that there was nothing she could do, it didn’t change anything. Regardless of how little sense it made, she was thinking about him, and that had to mean something.
Maybe it was just the knowledge of what it was like to be dead. She couldn’t remember much of it now, but she had an overall impression of what it had been like. She remembered softness and tranquility. She remembered peace unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She could vaguely recall a sort of omnipresence, of being everywhere and seeing everything all at once.
But mostly she remembered that she’d been alone. And even though her life had made her accustomed to being on her own, nothing could have prepared her for that kind of loneliness.
She moved closer to Rei almost without realizing it. She didn’t turn to look at her, but she sensed when Rei turned to her, almost smiling, and then having any hint of that fade away. Minako could tell that she wanted to say something, and she could tell that she didn’t know what to say. In the end, she remained silent.
Minako was grateful for it.
The two of them remained out there for quite some time beyond that, standing in silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable. There was just nothing that either of them could say that would have been effective, so they decided to say nothing at all. Besides, their minds were likely loud enough.
