Shunshin by Sokudo Ningyou

A Pretty Soldiers Story
- Shunshin


The air was crisp, revealing the tang of oncoming autumn and its cooler temperatures. Most people in the city had already switched over to warmer coats and clothing, the students in their longer sleeves and thicker skirts. But she didn’t feel the cold like everyone else, and wore only her habitual black leather trenchcoat, open to the breeze. The coat had seen some rough times, just like her; tears in the sleeves, rips that looked suspiciously like bullet holes through its flapping length. It was practically a relic that she rarely went without wearing, not when its hidden pockets and loops hid so many useful weapons.

Not that she needed them anymore. Her new life was so safe in that regard that she felt almost lazy.

She sat back against the windshield of her car, patting the hood reflexively; though she had accumulated the money to have any vehicle she wanted, she had a love affair with the Saturn. It had sent her father into a spasm of laughter to see her driving what was essentially a safe suburban car, but, as she’d pointed out, who would assume anyone like them would be driving such a vehicle? It may have been suburban, but it was also comfortable anonymity. Plus, it was black, and she always liked black. Now it was also exactly the opposite of what she’d bought it for, but no one in this country cared what Alex LeBeau was driving or where she lived or what she was doing.

But that was good, because it meant no one wanted to kill her. The few people that did care about her knew where she lived and what she drove, maybe not what she was always doing, and it was just fine. They saw her as a particularly exotic species of bird, some strange foreigner that offset the ie of the Japanese world by not playing entirely along. She lived where she chose, she said what she liked, and she did as she pleased. Not always a smart thing for a gaijin to do in Japan, but what could they do? Kick her out?

Stretching out her legs, she tipped her head back to look at the stars – or what was visible, so close to Tokyo’s scorching illumination. The constellations were the same as they had been over her childhood, her teenage years, her tumultuous adulthood, and now something approaching methuselah centuries. It was nice to know that they hadn’t changed; her place in the universe had, on many occasions, but the stars had stayed the same. And as in most of her years, she had no one to really share the moment with.

She thought back to the previous hours, when she’d told Makoto matter-of-factly that she was going out. The tall brunette had made some polite remark, but hadn’t been listening really; she was too busy achieving a look of subtle nonchalance for her ‘lesson’ with Sommers-san.

Ever since the vanquishing of the Death Busters, they had all found themselves with time to spare. Months had passed, and nothing remotely evil had shown its ugly head, which meant they could finally relax; Makoto had been using the time to schedule more classes with the brown-haired sensei, making up for the hectic weeks she had been busy. And it was flagrantly obvious to everyone that the educational value of the lessons was only perhaps a quarter of the reason she was visiting so often.

The fact that it bothered her was still nagging at the back of her mind. She didn’t know why; the tall brunette deserved her happiness, even if it was likely to be fleeting. They all knew that, save for some miracle of magic or birth, anyone they chose to fall in love with would die long before themselves. And though she reasonably should have gone to meet this ‘Conrad Sommers’ long ago, if only to fulfill her obligation as a concerned legal guardian, she also respected Makoto’s privacy, and was entirely willing to wait until she decided to introduce him personally.

Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t have the same chance. She hadn’t bothered to kid herself with the possibility since she had felt her queen die in her arms. Years ago she had deluded herself that no normal human would understand her, or try; only one of her own kind would accept what she was. And it was so perfectly managed, with no one really suitable to her age or personality in the small, internal family she had willing placed herself in. Even her father had fallen into the trap, trying to woo and win a woman he couldn’t even touch, coming right on back every time she’d turned away like some forlorn puppy.

And when she herself had broken away, fled for a new attempt at life, she’d had the chance for happiness, and watched it self-destruct by means of their separate ideologies and decisive influences. Again, she had left that life behind, the wandering vagabond again, though this time she was grown and in control of her powers, not a frightened young teen with just enough of a grasp of her abilities to not accidentally burn down a building. Everything she’d owned had been locked up in storage; her rightful – and stolen – wealth accumulated through interest and investment. She’d finally been given a break, and she had planned to exploit it fully; maybe do some charity work, piss off some rich dicks, but otherwise relax.

Then she’d done the damn foolish idea of trying to rescue a couple trapped inside a burning warehouse – said couple locked inside by a bunch of racist, drunken assholes who had then set the place on fire. She’d gotten them out, received a pipe to the head for her trouble when the drunks came back unexpectedly, and was tossed back into the building, out cold, and left to die. Or so she was later told. All she remembered was opening her eyes after what seemed to be a second of blackness, only to find herself staring into the face of Her Royal Highness Queen Serenity. Happiness, yes, that followed soon after, even though she was living in a world she understood but found slightly ludicrous, without the comfort of technology as she had grown up with.

Now she was back in her own century, in her own world, still the odd one out. She found comfort in knowing that her neighbors didn’t care that she could create fire with a thought, read their minds, or lift the furniture without touching it. Of course, they didn’t know she could, but they weren’t interesting in finding out. Not like a paranoid United States where half of the country wanted to either lock up, cripple, or flat-out kill people like her, and made it their personal mission in some respects to know whether the next door neighbor could talk to animals.

One of these days, she figured she was going to go completely barking mad, or continue to swallow it like a good little warrior and keep on going. Neither option seemed particularly cheerful; ‘happiness,’ was of course not on the list.

A shooting star flew by, and she didn’t bother making a wish.










“Ne, ne, have you heard? My birthday is coming soon!” Minako flashed the victory sign at them, so flamboyant she almost knocked over her drink.

“How soon, Minako-chan?”

“October 22,” she said proudly, preening, utterly ignoring the somewhat incredulous stares she was receiving. Only Alex seemed unsurprised, continuing to apply herself to the mastication of her slice of plain cheese pizza, even though it was a bit gummy. She did, however, grunt in recognition.

“There’s a sure sign of the Apocalypse; Aino Minako, one year shy of sweet sixteen. Good thing it isn’t the 31st, or there would probably be some sort of curse thrown in.” She eyed a drip of sauce that had somehow managed to fall right onto her forearm, a rather sickly looking red colour. Why she continued to kid herself that any cheap café in Tokyo actually sold decent pizza was beyond her understanding. Sighing, she licked the drip away deftly, as Usagi appeared to be in serious thought in the booth seat next to her, counting off her fingers.

“…19….20…Monday…Minako-chan, that’s only a week away! Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We’ll never plan a party this quickly!” the odango-haired blonde finally puzzled out, holding up the offending fingers as Mamoru hid what sounded like a cough in his mug of lukewarm coffee.

Come June 30, they had all planned a big birthday party for Usagi and Chibi-Usa, as the two strangely shared the same day. (Another sign, Alex was convinced, spelled the eventual end of the universe.) Ikuko-mama had been the main instigator; they ended up renting the parlor for the entire day, inviting Momo-chan from Chibi-Usa’s class, Naru and Umino, even Iretsu. (The glass sculpture of the two 'dango heads wearing flowing gowns and similar idyllic expressions of idiocy/benevolence had been almost too much, however.) They felt Usagi deserved it, being the main reason for the planet surviving three major cataclysms, but they hadn’t reckoned on her perverse need to spread the joy around.

If there was one thing their princess loved, it was making everyone share in that joy. She had been manic ever since the defeat of the Death Busters to enjoy life, and to that end had cajoled, bribed, and tricked some of them into telling her their birthdays. Only Mamoru – by reasons of obvious insanity, caused by their relationship – Ami, and Makoto had told her. Minako had given her some weird cryptic answer about being mysterious, which meant she had planned to spring it on them in some way no matter what. Rei had flat-out ignored the question. Alex had just laughed somewhat caustically and asked her which calendar she meant.

Thankfully for all involved, Mamoru’s birthday on August 3rd had been reasonably sedate. A surprise dinner party at his apartment, personally catered by the tall brunette and the tall red-head, that had involved all of them, and then a more exclusive reservation at the New York Grill on the 52nd floor of the Tokyo Hyatt. It had certainly ended more than two weeks worth of stress he’d put himself through leading up to the day; he loved his princess, but he also knew how their ideas of fun and entertainment could veer in two different directions. He still didn’t know that everyone had fought for several weeks beforehand to convince the girl that a quiet dinner was better than her idea of a balloons-and-banners party like her own.

Then, there had been Ami’s on the 10th of September. It had been Alex’s idea to bribe the workers at the Sunshine Planetarium into letting them have the whole place to themselves for a few hours, but it had been Usagi’s unique method of plea-bargaining that had them creating an entirely new galaxy for them to view: the Mizuno System. Needless to say, seeing all of the stars form the shape of the symbol for Mercury above their heads had been unique. They had also managed to talk her father into coming up for a surprise visit.

Now, it seemed to be Minako’s turn, but knowing the long-haired blonde, she was also probably frantically anticipating it. Maybe it was a sense of being younger; all five of the girls had been born the same year, but obviously not at the same time. Rei had been first, then Usagi, Ami, Minako, and then, just to be ironic, Makoto at the very last. And of course, Haruka and Michiru had been born even before Rei, to be already in high school. Watching practically everyone enjoy their birthdays first must have been annoying.

Makoto slurped loudly at her strawberry shake. “What’s wrong with the 31st of October?”

“Ne? The 31st?” Usagi muttered, lowering her hand.

Surprisingly, it was the dark-haired shrine girl who answered, stirring her tea with a lazy swish of her wrist. “The 31st of October was a pagan holiday in the West. The celebration of the dead walking the earth again.” She pursed her lips as she took a sip, perfectly ladylike. “The sisters like to warn us against the danger of roaming pagan ghosts. Not unlike the O-Bon.”

“The 31st is also Halloween, which is when people dress up in silly costumes and children knock on doors demanding candy, the little brats.” Alex stared down at her soda, momentarily brooding. “And yes, it’s a pagan holiday, but that doesn’t exactly matter in a country that mostly worships the trees, now does it?”

“Shinto is a respectful worship of the spirits of all living things—“ Rei began, sounding a bit angry, and a bit more like a door-to-door saleslady.

“Shinto is a vegetarian’s idea of paradise, and like all religions, made up to appease the limited human brain,” Alex shot back, more matter-of-factly. “Though you do look cute in those robes, I must admit.”

Artemis made a noise that might’ve been either agreement or condescension above Minako’s head. He was on his own today, with Luna and Diana unfortunately shanghaied to the nearby pet ‘spa’ to be scrubbed clean courtesy of Ikuko-mama and Chibi-Usa, and he was finding it extremely easy to nap. Of course, some voices just couldn’t be shut out, not when the tall red-head and the dark-haired shrine girl had taken it upon themselves to wage a battle of ideology. Alex seemed to enjoy needling Rei uselessly; Rei, though no one would get her to admit it, enjoyed having such a relationship. Catholic school produced very few interesting, intelligent conversations and even fewer people who could keep up with her. “Thankfully, Minako’s birthday is still on the 22nd, not the 31st.”

“But it sounds so interesting! It’s too bad that we don’t have such an interesting holiday in Japan…free candy, and a chance to be something silly and fun…” Said long-haired blonde sighed, resting her chin on her fists. “Just a perfectly interesting day.”

The tall brunette reached up to disentangle a strand of hair from her earring, unclipping the jewelry with an ease born of practice. “And you could be considered normal when acting unusual, ne? Even as sailor soldiers, we could pretend to be merely ordinary girls.”

Alex stirred her soda, eyeing the melting ice cubes and their slow contribution to the watering-down of her drink with resignation. Not that it mattered much; Coke in Japan just didn’t taste right, not as sweet as it should have, and Diet Coke had suffered a sort of general neutering. Instead of battery acid – which even she could admit it probably tasted like to the uninitiated – it tasted like polluted water flavoured with gasoline. Taking one last defiant sip, she pushed the quarter-full glass aside and said, “Yeah, well. Halloween for me was mostly sitting in Harry’s, watching the kids go down the street, holding mommy or daddy’s hand. They never came up to the school.”

“But it still sounds so fun, dressing up, and getting lots of candy!” Usagi sighed, nuzzling up against her prince’s side. “And all of those happy children…”

“Well, they’ve still got Shichi-go-san in November. Some of them, anyway,” the tall red-head pointed out, “they dress up in kimono and get reasonably pampered.”

“But Americans give out candy to everyone!” Minako pointed out in return.

“Not everyone, just underdeveloped ankle-biters dressed like Pokémon and various shady lifestyles.”

The blue-haired genius peered over the top of her ridiculously thick textbook – it looked like a complete history of the creation of modern math and its bastard offspring – pushing up her reading glasses with an index finger to see them clearly. She’d been so quiet, they had almost forgotten her existence, easy to do when she was in ‘the zone’ of studying. They had long ago given up on trying to make her socialize for the next year; until high school exams were over with, she was merely scenery. But they were still dragging her along to put some fresh air in her lungs, otherwise she’d stay locked up in her room, poring over her books until midnight.

Minako caught her eye, and said loudly, “Ne, ne, Ami-chan! What do you think?”

Blink. “It sounds interesting, but aren’t you a little old to be concerned with childish things? After all, this ‘Halloween’ sounds like a child’s celebration, not for students about to enter high school.” The long-haired blonde grimaced. Ami was aware enough of her surroundings to follow their conversation, even when nose deep in a book, and she managed to put enough condescension and disappointment into her tone to remind them that she was so able. Though the girls had given up on her socializing, she had not yet given up on chastising them for not taking their upcoming exams more seriously.

And those exams were looming even closer. All of their families were making it perfectly clear that they expected their daughters to make it into decent, if not excellent high schools; it was not optional, but mandatory. Rei’s Catholic school automatically elevated her into the next grade, though she too had to take some difficult tests, nothing too serious for a girl who managed a nearly perfect grade average. Minako had long ago convinced her mother to let her drop cram school, having been unable to keep up in those halcyon days of fighting crime as Sailor V, and had not suffered terribly for it; her grades had been horrible anyway.

Usagi was just barely scraping by, as usual, which was not actually a bad thing; what good would her education be once she was Queen? Her empathy and conscience were her strongest points, and they would be far more useful to her than ancient history and equations. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell her mother not to worry about her bad grades because she’d be on the throne within ten years, and so she continued to manage. Mamoru did seem to be tutoring her a bit; being a senior himself and on the cusp of college gave him a bit more free time. Even Ami had asked him for help once or twice.

Makoto was hardly an excellent student herself, having no interest at all in the duller aspects of public education, and excelling only at her gardening club activities – which she was now banned from, being in ninth grade and preparing for those exams – and cooking class. And she had no expectations weighing her down from Alex, who had told her flatly that she could decide for herself, but that if she didn’t chose school, she needed to find a job. The terms of her guardianship specified one or the other, to prove that Makoto was responsible enough to be on her own come next December. Though she couldn’t imagine finding a job that would make allowances for constant tardiness or spontaneous days off if another enemy arrived.

“Ami’s right, though it’s not just for kids,” Alex said finally, noting how the blue-haired genius had managed to kill conversation with just the tone of her words. She didn’t – and yet she did – mean to be the general voice of discontent, but she did have a way of making sure her meaning came across no matter what she did. Woe be the unfortunate understudy she might find herself teaching after her own years in medical school. “A lot of adults dress up and go to parties too. They just get alcohol and hors d’oeuvres instead of candy corn and bubble gum.”

“So it’s not just for children? Adults get to dress up for a night too?” Makoto asked, amazed.

“If you’re into that kind of thing.”

Usagi was smiling in a wide, thoughtful manner that instantly rose the hairs on everyone’s neck. That smile meant she was thinking something devious. Something crazy that would no doubt make them beg for mercy. And, considering the topic, they could only imagine what she had in mind; even Ami had the notion to look worried. Mamoru was inching away from her as slowly and evenly as possible.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows atop the table – and cleverly soaking up a soda spill from the previous occupants with her sleeve – and pressed her fists into her chin. “Ne, ne, minna, for Mina-P’s birthday…” Not altogether oddly, the cute ‘P’ suffix she had recently tacked onto Minako’s name sounded perfectly fine coming from her, despite the fact that it was an elementary school favourite. But it also heightened their feelings of trepidation; were they to be ritually tortured by such cuteness? “…let’s make a Halloween party!”

The crash of Minako’s fist onto the table had nearly every single head in the parlor whipping around to stare, in various states of alarm, at the long-haired blonde. Even more so at her split-second pose, her mania thankfully not known to most of the country; she leapt up onto her side of the bench seat, fists in the air in triumph, her grin bright enough to power the Ginza for a full day. “Sou yo! This is the culmination of fifteen years of unbearable loneliness! How long have I waited for such a magnificent party in my honor?”

“’Unbearable loneliness’? Is Hikaru just a figment of your mad imagination?” Artemis snorted from the plants. He then yowled as an ice cube smacked him right between the eyes, knocking him backward into the thankfully empty booth behind them.

Minako sniffed, reassuming her pose, though she seemed to have lost a bit of her exuberance. “Just because I had one, one! whole friend in the world who knew my suffering…but no longer! Now, I shall have a party worthy of me, Aino Minako, Japan’s future and entirely gorgeous #1 idol, a party that will live in tyranny!”

“Should I…?” Mamoru muttered.

“No-o, I think she got it right the first time,” Alex snickered, as Rei managed to hide herself most cleverly behind her school case, red as a tomato. Ami had her book as an excuse, though she was holding it with a strange stiffness in front of her face. Makoto had invested herself entirely to the difficult job of slurping up her shake, unconvincingly oblivious to the crazed blonde standing next to her; even Usagi looked a little daunted by the display.

All Mamoru could hope for was a swift seven years and possible maturity as he drank his coffee.

In any event, the long-haired blonde apparently noticed the lack of enthusiasm – mostly by the silence; the entire parlor had gone mute, most likely afraid of egging her on – and slumped back down into her seat. “But anyway, I’m happy! Even though I had Hikaru-chan, her calm façade and organizational status kept her from celebrations. And mama never liked throwing parties, because she didn’t want to clean up after me twice in one day, she always said.” The last was followed by a swift frown; none of them had met Aino-mama yet, but even by Minako’s tendency to blow things out of proportion the lady seemed to be rather sour by nature. Even Artemis agreed to that, noting that she spent more time during the day lambasting her husband’s general lack of job recognition and her daughter’s renegade ways.

At that, they all sighed. Now they had no choice, because once someone made such an impassioned statement in Usagi’s presence, she made sure it was followed through. Even if it meant dragging the rest of them along through thick and even more thick.

The sound of a book slapping shut startled them again. Ami removed her glasses and folded them with one hand as she put her book inside of her case and snapped the latches shut. The faint distaste on her face was becoming rather normal for her these past weeks; though she allowed them to drag her along, she was irritated at the interruption in her studies. She felt far more burdened than they to excel perfectly at exams, needing an excellent high school that would meet her expectations for college.

Though Moto Azabu, Mamoru’s current school, was one that met all qualifications, she wasn’t very happy at its segregation; boys and girls studied in different buildings, an archaic concept kept in use only because many families were rigid believers in separation of the sexes in such matters of education. Almost all of the girls would gain an excellent education, but they were then expected to marry properly and use that intelligent brain within the household, having children and teaching them what they needed to enter the proper kindergarten. The school even used the gengo system for all of its calendars and tests and dates, for the love of the kami.

So she had her lists of possible schools, and there were so many that had been built within Tokyo proper in the last ten years to accommodate the population, so many outside of Tokyo proper for the same reason, that she was hardly definite in her choice. And as loathe as she was to admit it, she now had the additional burden of worrying if she could make it from school to a possible battle; as a sailor soldier, she was trapped within a certain boundary. She could hardly commute an hour away, out of the city, and expect to make it back under a certain time limit to fight as Sailor Mercury.

But at the puzzled look on Usagi’s face, she relaxed, sighing. “Gomen ne,” she said, standing up in the booth. “I have to catch the bus; juku starts in an hour, and today is a very big mock exam. Please call me later about Minako’s party.”

Rei and Makoto scooted and crawled out of the way to let the blue-haired genius leave, her parting wave genuine, her smile just so. Then she was out the door and gone, off to another night of intellectual binge and purge. “Ami-chan is so busy with her studies lately,” Usagi sighed, stirring her drink. “She seems so sad.”

“Of course she’s busy, and you should be as well. With exams coming up, you should all be studying just as hard,” the dark-haired shrine girl remarked in turn, settling back into place.

“Minna-a, let’s not talk about school! After all, we were discussing my upcoming birthday so casually before. Exams don’t come until nearly March!” Minako gulped the rest of her drink down in one Olympian sized swallow, nearly choking on her exuberance; tears sprang to her eyes as she coughed. “Besides, I have reasonable expectations for school. After all, Hana High and Juuban High are remarkably close, and their exams are fairly easy, I’ve heard.”

“Is that your only decision regarding school?” Alex queried, “how close it is?”

“Well, their volleyball clubs are also super! I intend to take them to the top!”

The dark-haired prince shook his head, glancing down at his princess and her thoughtful expression. “I hope that isn’t your only expectation, Minako. High school is when you have to make certain choices for the future. Merely getting there to play volleyball is a waste of effort.”

Makoto, surprisingly, said, “And why are we even worrying, Mamoru-san? We know what our future holds. What else can we expect to do in this little time?” She stood up as well, and, being on the outside of the booth, she was able to walk away easily. “Gomen nasai, but I don’t want to discuss this right now. Sommers-san is expecting me for class.” Hugging her case to her chest, she backed away and swiftly walked through the door.

Not much left to do after that than go their separate ways; some air of merriment had been pierced. Mamoru seemed to recognize that he had put his foot in his mouth, and seemed rather chastened as he and Usagi left. Rei always had some chore to finish at the shrine, so she left next, a few heads turning to watch her go. Artemis and Minako were last, and though the long-haired blonde was now depressed, she made a show of reminding the tall red-head about Usagi’s party idea. “Halloween. Yeah, I got it,” she snorted.

Left sitting at the table with a mess of empty glasses, she didn’t move for nearly two hours, simply staring out the window. Pulling out her wallet finally, she fished out enough yen to pay for her loitering, playing with a 1,000 bill idly – even after all this time, the currency here still seemed alien to her – before setting it down and getting up. Unsurprisingly she noted the shifting of eyes in the room, the covert stares at the gaijin who had been playing at being topiary. Just didn’t belong, here nor there nor bloody anywhere, it seemed.












A few days later, she was staring at the plain white envelope on the coffee table in front of her, neatly hand-written in Edwardian English, addressed to a Miss Alexandria LeBeau. She knew where it was from, she’d gotten several over the past year, all addressed to an American they didn’t know, living in her ridiculously expensive condo in the wrong part of the city, who just wanted to be left in peace.

She opened it, read the contents, read them again. Huh.

The door opened and closed, and she could hear, sense, Makoto arriving home. Even though their thoughts were a general buzz of static, she could still feel their emotions coming at her, a ridiculous maelstrom of happy to sad to general disregard when they were in a group. The tall brunette was usually content if not happy, as she was now, and she made the room just a little bit lighter for her presence. “Tadaima-a!” she sang, removing her shoes for her slippers, still stuck in the habit. “Alex-chan?”

“Nerf.”

Makoto set her school case on the armchair, peering at her roommate critically. “Daijoubu? You seem upset.”

“I’m never upset. I’m the poster child of joy,” Alex retorted lifting the letter for Makoto to see, then realizing she couldn’t read it, letting it fall onto the table. “Mail from UNESCO again, sending me one of their damn letters. The usual song and dance of ‘Being a foreigner in Tokyo, why not join us in a celebration of debauched excess and heady joy at not being Japanese?’”

“….it says that?”

“Well, not in that many words.” She sat back, flinging her arm back over the couch and affecting a lazy slouch. “I guess they’re throwing a Halloween party and they’re inviting me, a token foreigner in Tokyo, to come. That’s all they seem to do around here; throw parties for the gaijin.”

The tall brunette sat in the opposite armchair, snuggling up to a pillow she had personally bought herself a few weeks ago; bright pink and heart-shaped and frilly, Alex had gagged and given up the entire piece of furniture for her own use. “Will you go?”

Alex made a face, apparently deciding not to say whatever was on her mind, and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. Finally she said, “Why in the hell would I? I don’t even know anyone else in this city but you. I don’t like to advertise my presence. And the fact I have to put on yet another bloody costume just for Minako’s party….” She sighed, palming her face. “Non. It’ll just go into the garbage, again. I wish they’d get the hint; it’d save some trees.”

“Is it really so terrible to go and have some fun?” Makoto stared at her curiously, unrolling the sleeves of her uniform. Though it was past the date of summer uniforms, the last week had been nicely mild, perfect for T-shirts and entirely stifling in thicker, long-sleeved woolens. “You’ve gone out to the clubs; you met Haruka-san and Michiru-san at one. Why would a party be different?”

“It just is,” the tall red-head muttered, looking away. How to explain her trepidation at being found? That she made a habit of watching CNN and BBC and all the other foreign news networks just for that little bit of information about them, to know that they wouldn’t suddenly arrive in her new backyard, finding her alive, wanting her to go back. At such a party, there was always a chance someone could recognize her, even if it was slim to none. She lived in a wary state of alert, knowing that not even Tokyo was safe, that even here, they had friends.

But she hated living in that mode. She’d lived on edge, one eye always on the horizon, for too many damn years, seemingly at someone – or something – else’s mercy. Even now she still had nightmares of a metallic slither against her skin, a sharp voice laughing at her as she fought desperately to escape. “Don’t you see, this was all intricately mapped, a choice menu of genetic aberration for us to sample. They led us right to you.” Screaming, not just her voice.

She closed her eyes. “Pardonnez, chere. I don’t mean to snap at you. But it’s just not easy to explain. Being in crowds is still unsettling, even after so many years of practice.”

“Well…could the rest of us go, with your invitation?”

Lapis blue rolled sideways to stare at Makoto. “Quoi?”

Exasperated, she said, “Do all Americans do that, or is it just you? I need a Japanese to French dictionary just to understand you sometimes.”

“Just me. Well. My father, too. And my momma did it, and, uhm, most of the family….actually, all of them….”

“Mou!” The tall brunette shook her head, though she was obviously fighting an attack of the giggles. “I mean, can we use your invitation to go to the party? It would be perfect! Minako would love mingling with so many people.”

“And I suppose your overwhelming lack of expertise regarding the English language would be, of course, no barrier whatsoever to your good time.” Just because there were foreigners in Tokyo didn’t mean they spoke the language; the families of the American military were an excellent case in point. And she had dealt with more than a few transplanted businessmen who had come overseas seeking opportunities in their companies who couldn’t even give directions to the taxi driver. Most of those people going to such parties were almost assuredly Japanese deficient, and half were not even of the English speaking variety.

Makoto waved it off with an assurance only teenagers could have; the utter disregard of experience in the face of determination. “Daijoubu! I’m sure we’ll be fine! After all, we’ve all had English class for three years now! How bad can it be?”

Alex just stared at her. She ‘remembered,’ as Moriya, taking those classes, and could just imagine how bad it would be. If any of them could get past “Hello! My name is,” and “How are you?” she’d eat something entirely disgusting. Finally she ventured, “I don’t think so. I have a bad feeling you’ll end up accidentally propositioning someone, or offering to draw them a monkey with your big toe on their ear for five bucks Australian.” Picking up the invitation and staring sourly at the curling, obviously computer-generated, cursive script, she sighed. “I’ll go. I’ll bloody damn go. I can’t let you go alone for gods’ sakes.”

“Well, it’s settled, then! I’ll go call Usagi and tell her the good news!” And she hopped up in another dizzying cloud of happiness, leaving the tall red-head to suspect she’d been cleanly conned. Damn kids, she thought with a faint moue of annoyance. I’m supposed to be the con artist, not them. “When is it?”

“October 31st, at their no doubt glamorous offices.” Tossing the invite onto the coffee table again, she got up and stretched, wandering around the similarly wandering brunette wielding the cordless phone, and into the kitchen for some kind of edible. Just like the oven and range, the fridge was, in the tall red-head’s opinion, of proper size, a shiny chrome side-by-side just tall enough for her to see over the top. And being in a condo with two itchy cooks, it was almost always stuffed to its cooling vents with leftovers, which she eyed critically.

Behind her, she heard Makoto say, “…arigatou, Ikuko-mama,” and click the phone off. “Usagi’s not home,” she sighed. “Ikuko-mama says she went over to Ami’s to study.”

“Which probably means she and Chiba are over at his place snogging.” Picking up a round Tupperware container and sniffing its contents, she added, “Because the gods know she wouldn’t willingly study on a beautiful day like this.”

The tall brunette toyed with the stubby antenna on the phone, thinking guiltily of the homework still locked in her own case; she had an English grammar paper to finish, a sizeable math take-home quiz, and a second paper to write on the function of the daimyo in feudal Japan and their impact on Western society. If they decided to make all school optional, she sometimes wondered if she wouldn’t be the first in line to quit. So much work for so little return; she wanted to make people happy with home-baked cakes and lovely, hand-sewn dresses, and what good did her knowledge of the daimyo and serious algebra give her in that quarter?

She sighed, her elation rapidly fading as she realized the long hours she’d have to put in again just to finish in time for class tomorrow. It wasn’t even the amount, just the effort needed; Alex was right that her English was terrible, and she hated math, and didn’t think much of history either. And that particular red-head was eyeing her from the kitchen, that look on her face that meant she knew that her roommate was feeling depressed and sad and just a teensy bit homicidal. “Makoto?”

“Gomen, gomen…I just remembered, I have so much homework to do! I wish I didn’t; I’m just not good at math or history or English.” She waved her hand lazily in the air, affecting a see-through cheerful smile. “It’s just difficult for me to sit so still and do this work. I’d rather be do so many other things….”

Alex was still giving her that look, an arch of the brow making it almost imperious. She had slumped to lean on the island counter, a plate of Makoto’s cherry pie in her hand, eating it without even bothering to look down and make sure nothing had gone south down her shirt. “So don’t bother. You don’t have to go on to high school, p’tite. You can find a job instead.”

“Could I really?” the tall brunette murmured, nibbling now at the rubber. “And then what happens if I’m needed, if Sailor Jupiter is needed? Who would accept my absences? I wouldn’t be able to keep a job, I don’t think. Not when another enemy could arrive.”

“True. Even though it’s a possibility that it may not happen.” Her face twisted into a comical snort as she rolled her eyes; obviously, she didn’t believe it anymore than Makoto did. Though they had already passed the three-month mark weeks ago, a record of peace and quiet unknown since they had become soldiers, something was bound to happen. The Dark Kingdom had been their foes from death, the Black Moon their shadow in the future, but the Death Busters had simply been random paths colliding, enemies who had not a thing to do with them; and it could happen again. “I tell you, it actually makes me appreciate my private education; I’m not looking forward to the day one of these idiots actually does something during business hours and you’re in class.”

“And I can’t just stop school, can I? Even though it’s my choice, once I’m sixteen…”

“At sixteen, yes, but that isn’t for another year and two months. That’s where the law is a righteous pain in the ass; if you’re not in school or legally employed, they can step back in and haul you off to another foster home.” The sound of the fork being set on the empty plate was almost loud in the tense silence that followed. “And as much as I love to happily tap-dance all over the law when it’s my neck, I’m not going to go there with you. You either need to continue school, or get a job, and that’s all they wrote.”

The tall brunette clenched her fist in her lap, staring down at the carpet around her slippers. She knew Alex was right, knew she didn’t like it anymore than she did, but it felt as though that noose was simply tightening around her neck with those words. Normal teenagers could opt out, their parents alive to provide for them, but she had no choices, not even a scrap of leniency, because hers were dead.

She wanted to cry.

No, actually, she wanted to rage, wanted to hit something, wanted to rail against the unfairness of the world. Everything was just growing, the rock rolling uphill now the size of a boulder, and increasing with every step. The mere imaginary scenario of four more years of work and toil, eventually all for naught, made her wince.

Until she heard a snort. A very aggravated sound. “Why in the name of the multiple gods are you so upset over the idea of four more years of education? I know the bloody Japanese school system is sado-masochistic in its pursuit of higher learning, but why is it such a damn chore? At least you have the privilege of being a student at a normal school with normal people. I didn’t.”

Makoto flinched at the words, oaken green rolling to see the tall red-head playing with her plate. Sometimes, she wished her roommate – her friend, her teacher – would stop being so tight-lipped about her past and open up, telling them at least what her life had been before she had met Serenity. The few tantalizing hints were both vague and infuriating; her dead family, years spent fighting something undefined. Even Makoto couldn’t touch that level of despair with her own stories. “Gomen ne…Alex-chan, I don’t mean…”

She sighed, tugging at her ponytail in a ritual gesture of nervousness to tighten it. “It just feels like such a waste. I wanted to sell cake and flowers and be a bride in white, or maybe be a cook in my own restaurant. Something that could make everyone happy. School won’t teach me any of that….the happiness I want to share comes from within, my joy from creating something new and wonderful.” Another tug, as she straightened it against the back of her head, sensing by touch and habit that the tail was off-kilter. “Even so, after so much school, and maybe a few years of achieving that dream…it’ll be gone. Kino Makoto will be Sailor Jupiter, and everything that Kino Makoto dreamed will be—“

“—ashes in the wind,” Alex finished for her, barely a mutter.

There was the sound of dishware rattling as the plate and fork were set in the sink, water running to sluice off the remaining cherries and piece crust crumbles. It was more comforting a sound than the tall brunette wanted to admit; alone in her apartment, it would be her at the sink, rinsing that dish. Now, as someone else did the very same, it made her feel as if she were a child again, sitting at the table with her belly full and her head sleepy, listening to her mother and father doing the dishes. It was a particular musical sound of childhood, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Alex felt the same way, when their situations reversed.

Lulled, she didn’t even notice the water stop, or the movement of the tall red-head into the living room. It wasn’t until she felt a finger tickling her nose that she blinked, focusing; Alex was bent over her, smiling at her coyly, finger poised to ambush again. “So, Sleeping Beauty rejoins the world. Does this mean I don’t get my kiss?”

“Iyaa, no! Ecchi!” Makoto swatted at her, laughing, and Alex dropped in that peculiar lazy way of hers into a sprawled drape over the couch.

She rolled onto her stomach, legs so long her feet hooked just so over the arm, and rested her chin in her hand so she could see her conversational partner. “So you don’t like the idea that after spending all your time preparing for your dream, it’ll essentially be flushed down the toilet once the future comes.” The tall brunette nodded. “And how is that any worse than, say, Ami going to medical college, barely having the chance to finish, and then finding herself lacking when the world’s entire science and medical community takes a nose dive? Of course she can use her skills as a soldier, maybe she does, but it won’t be the same.

“And what about Mamoru? He wants to be a doctor too, and he’ll be most likely done with his training before the big one hits; maybe even hired on. But the king of Crystal Tokyo isn’t going to be able to heal the sick or wounded, not when he’s half the power on the throne. Maybe he helps out Ami in general theory by writing up proposals for new hospitals, or new methods for healing with their technology, but what else?” Alex cocked an eyebrow, tapping her nails against her cheek. “Out of all of you, I’d actually feel more sorry for them; an idol, a cook, a wife, and a priestess can all find their personal ways in that shining world, without having wasted their years. Dr. Chiba, Dr. Mizuno; they won’t exist. Their years of hard work and training will be gone.”

Reaching out, she touched her free hand to Makoto’s knee. “Don’t dwell on this, chere. It isn’t worth it, not when you still have that potential for happiness. Yes, you’ll be Sailor Jupiter, but Sailor Jupiter can still be – and is – an amazing cook. And I don’t care what Pluto might say, the future’s not set in stone. Believe me.” Alex smiled, somewhat grimly. “We’re already at deuces.”

Makoto hadn’t though of it that way at all.

Feeling slightly ashamed as she realized Alex was right, she thought maybe she could endure four more years after all; and high school was in fact much more carefree. More time with her friends…more to make, as she joined the clubs…actually, now that she thought about it that way, it didn’t seem so terrible at all. Her fear and loathing of the workload to come, the tests looming, were her obstacles, not her eventual goal.

She smiled brightly. “Alex-chan, how can you be so right all the time?” Wielding the phone still, she hit redial, hopping up. “I’m going to try to reach Usagi again, and do my homework. I’ll have to stay the course; only hard work will give me the first step of freedom towards my dream! Hana High, here we come!” she crowed, bouncing over to grab her case, then tripping up the stairs.

Alex watched her go, shaking her head. Though she finally smiled as she caught the remote in her hand, it was rather more wistful than happy.











True to form, Usagi was thrilled at the idea of a free party, with free food, and free drinks, and interesting people, and if she was thrilled, Minako was going to go ballistic with joy. Of course, they wouldn’t find that out until the very day; they had decided – well, Usagi had decided, and the others, in lieu of a better idea, agreed – to keep it a secret up until arrival. Which meant everyone would also be working hard to keep the odango-haired blonde from letting it slip, which, in the heat of excitement, she was liable to do.

Which was why they were all currently hiding in the safe obscurity of her bedroom, sans Mamoru – Kenji-papa’s eye seemed to gain a major tic whenever he saw the poor boy. It wasn’t that he didn’t approve of him, as Alex could quite flatly attest to, but that he was like every other protective father who didn’t want his little baby girl growing up and not needing him anymore. He wanted to keep her innocent as long as he could, though, yet again, Alex could’ve told him that she was long past that particular hurdle. But as that would’ve given the man a coronary, she felt it prudent to keep her lips shut.

As it was just the girls, Ikuko-mama also had a rather distracting habit of popping up every half hour with some new and freshly baked tray of goodies, fussing over them all – even the tall red-head, who took it with a wry smile. (Apparently, in the matronly woman’s eyes, she was a bit too thin and needed some fattening up.) One of the trays sat across a hastily cleared corner of Usagi’s dresser, emptied except for some crumbs, an assortment of half-full glasses set within. Rei picked up her glass, clear and clean of any fingerprints or any decided use, and took a sip, remarking, “If I see any politician affiliated with my father, I am not going.”

“Rei, if your father is so straight-laced he squeaks when he walks, I seriously doubt anyone with a similar mindset would be caught dead at a gaijin Halloween party,” Alex said in return from her seat in the window. The dark-haired shrine girl threw her a dirty look.

“He is stern and pig-headed, but he does not ‘squeak,’” Rei responded coolly. “However, my father is typically aware of his political advantages, and I wouldn’t put it past him to send one of his younger partners to a gathering of possibly influential foreigners.”

There was a moment of rather embarrassed silence. Hardly ever did Rei ever mention her father, who was an obvious shadow over her life; from what scant detail she had allowed them to learn, they couldn’t blame her. A man of the old school Nihon, he seemed like an unfeeling, typical politician, more concerned with his political aspirations than the daughter he professed to adore for his vision of a perfect family. They all rather preferred her grandfather, who was a kind and caring man, something like a loveable puppy in robes.

Ami, her pencil still poised in the air as if to viciously strike the lined notebook balanced precariously in her lap, glanced thoughtfully over at Rei. “Is he truly so politically involved? He’s already a popular name within the party; is he looking towards the future to become Prime Minister?”

Like spectators at a soccer game, heads swiveled from one to the other.

Looking as if she’d swallowed something two weeks deceased, Rei averted her eyes. The tall red-head could feel the shame and mingled – no, not mingled, completely overwhelming and strong – anger that Rei had for her father and such questions. It was a palpable cloud above her head; it was amazing that she could act so self-assured and poised when she had such an emotional chip on her shoulder. Of course, if Alex were truthful with herself, she’d admit she had such a chip, maybe even bigger; and the rest of the girls here were just as bad. Only human.

“…possibly,” she finally admitted in a quiet voice. “He could be so bold.”

“One can just imagine what would happen then,” the tall red-head muttered. “Martial law for all women; lock ‘em up, throw away the key, but leave them the checkbooks.” Of course, this was directed towards the window as she looked out; it was doubtful any of them heard. Sometimes she knew plainly that her observations of the country, being a dyed-in-the-wool foreigner, just shouldn’t be vocalized in their presence, or at least not so they could hear.

Of course, when she had been in America, she’d had the same problem, because though she was a citizen by birth, she had lived overseas until her teens. Most of her comments had either been ignored, dismissed, or argued, usually because she was thought to be rather ignorant because of her age. Now, obviously, that wasn’t a problem, but trying to explain her cynicism and mistrust to a group of mixed teenagers…not quite yet.

A loud laugh signaled a happier discussion; though Ami had gone back to her books, and Rei was smiling tightly, Usagi and Makoto were chatting merrily, trying to coax the dark-haired shrine girl into discussing possible costumes with them. Apparently, Chibi-Usa had already chosen to be a pirate, and had been pleading with Ikuko-mama to help her make the outfit. So what should they be?

Alex quelled the urge to speak her mind again, and turned back to the window. She thought the world of them, but they had been raised and taught by a system that prized repetition; if they didn’t come dressed as a princess or a bride or a priestess or a doctor, she’d frankly be shocked. Not that she had any ideas for herself, though she’d been kicking around the idea of Cher in “Walking in Memphis,” just to be interesting. A fake nose and tan, black hairpiece, blue suede shoes, what the fuck, why not.

Pressing her cheek against the cool glass, her eyes drifted over the trees and small garden in the Tsukino yard, every bit of available space green, but beginning to fade with the changing seasons. Soon, the snows would come, an unfortunate side effect of moving to these northern climates, and the entire landscape would change. White Christmases, when she was more comfortable and familiar with green, even though those years were so far left behind. She remembered sunny, hot days, climbing the tallest tree behind the house on a dare and skinning her knee on the rough bark. New York had been a cold, rude awakening, her first holiday one of utmost refusal to even leave the building for the next three months. Pneumonia wary. She had always been up front in praying for an early spring.

And Japan in December wouldn’t be much warmer. Soon she’d be seeing her breath every time she stepped outside, mostly likely from some curse at the temperature; she’d be freezing her nuts off when she decided to go shopping for gifts. Not that the holidays had always been the spreading of proverbial joy for her, something had always been happening, but she still felt it apropos to give the girls some small present.

Behind her was a glow of contentment, edged with a thin scallop of irritation, spiked here and there with amusement; she closed her eyes briefly, basking in the sea of emotion. It was comforting to feel their presence, like a soft blanket over her shoulders, and she sometimes had to simply remind herself that they were there. For years it had driven her mad, that ever-present tangle in her head sprung full blown once she had manifested that particular power, the need and hatred and despair and desire and everything else itching her skin. She had avoided crowds like the plague, run screaming within minutes if she’d found herself in the middle of one.

Now it was like not breathing to not feel the presence of another body near her. The solitude had been just fine until the loneliness had crept in while she wasn’t looking, and maybe she had been almost guiltily happy to find herself with a reason to take Makoto in, filling the apartment with her emotional spoor. She was adjusting, again, to life with an emotional leash, standing on that brink of madness and staring across. Companionship, but not the kind she could only wish for. Emotion had taken the wheel, kicking Physical and Sexual into the trunk.

She must’ve been frowning, because a small girl on the sidewalk was staring up at her. It looked as if she’d been jumping rope – and who did that anymore? – her arms down at her sides, her face perfectly like a doll as she watched the window, brown hair in mussed curls. She was even dressed in one of those silly baby doll dresses without a waist, white with bright red strawberries all over it. Casually, she waved her hand, quirking a smile. The girl smiled back, beaming madly as a pair of arms came into the picture, picking her up. Her brother, maybe; she couldn’t see much of the face beneath the wide brimmed hat, just a hint of a dark goatee. Even as she was carried off, the little girl waved up at her, not caring who she was.

“Kids,”’ the tall red-head mumbled, realizing sharply that she couldn’t recall ever being picked up like that herself as a child. Neglect hadn’t been the cause, simply business.

“Ne, Alex-onee-chan?” Usagi questioned. Startled, she looked around. All of them were looking at her, even Ami, her pencil poised exactly the same as before. She probably practiced that strike at night, keeping her form in top condition for her mock exams. “Ne, ne?”

“Ah…pardonnez. What is it?” Alex shifted to see them better, clasping her bent knee between interlocked fingers.

“Well, what have you decided on for a costume?” Makoto asked next, her eyes practically shining with deviousness. “We’re all excited to know!”

Alex thought for a moment, eyes rolled to the sky. She thought, and she thought; and, just to piss them off more, she thought a bit longer.

Finally, she decided: “Quiverwing Quack.”

Just as she figured, she was met by four blank stares, so she clarified. “Y’know, Quiverwing Quack? Gosling? Darkwing Duck? The terror that flaps in the night?” Usagi looked to be thinking hard.

“Is it an antique manga?”

“No! Good grief, don’t you watch any Yank cartoons? I thought everything was bootlegged and translated over here.” Apparently not, as they all shook their heads in the negative. “Bloody horrible. OK, so, Quiverwing Quack is Darkwing Duck’s adopted daughter, who makes up a superhero identity for herself because she, well, wants to. She shoots arrows and wears this red Robin Hood gone gay outfit.”

“She shoots arrows?” Rei now looked at least mildly interested.

“Only because she happened to have them on hand to catch a criminal. That’s the joke, that she out-hero’s her dad, who happens to be a card-carrying hero that gets major disrespect. I mean, Gizmoduck of all people gets better press than him, and he’s a schmuck!”

The odango-haired blonde symphonically tortured, “Gee-zu-mo Daa-ku? Is he bishounen?”

None of them understood why Alex practically laughed herself off the window sill. “Oh gods no, he’s a scrawny little accountant with a technical suit. Sort of like your transformations; he says “Blathering blatherskite” or something close to it, and this big metal Robocop suit flies to armor him up, complete with a unicycle wheel for mobility.” She was still snickering as she waved her hands in the air, simulating, as best as she could, a flying hunk of metal out of a briefcase. Obviously, it could’ve been done better. “He’s Duckburg’s big hero by mostly sheer luck, because he’s a massive putz, yet everyone loves him.”

“…so you’re dressing up as a metal Robocop?”

“No, no! Quiverwing Quack! Robin Hood gone gay! Puffy shoes, sharp hat, bow and arrows, come on, it’ll be classic.” A brow twitched. “Obviously, my wit is lost on you.”

“I suppose so,” the dark-haired shrine girl stated, a bit icily.

“And here I thought you were supposed to be so perceptive,” Alex sniped back, tipping her chin in an outright dare to Rei; and she would’ve most likely taken it up if Ikuko-mama had not chosen that time to swing through the door again, bearing yet more treats. She contented herself with staring instead, though both of them knew it just wasn’t the same and not quite as satisfying.











A small object spun, caught the moonlight. It was caught in silhouette against that curving crescent for a second, the shape of rounded ears, an equally chubby body. When it fell, it made no noise, caught before it could hit the ground. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am, my dear boy,” she snapped; sitting in the shadows, he could not make out the obviously angry expression on her face. But her voice softened as she added, “Oh, darling, I don’t like to yell at you. But you know this is important! That last battle was so very terrible, and we must find out just how strong they’ve become.”

He tossed up the object again, unable to keep still for very long. Finally they were mingling with the common people, people like him, and he could breathe fresh air and go wherever he wanted and eat everything he desired. This silly test was merely an annoyance he really didn’t want to deal with, but it was, for her, a big deal. So he’d do it, maybe get drunk, and then sleep it off for the next few months until they made their real move. Sounded like a plan.

“So I don’t need to control it at all?” he asked again, slipping it into his pocket. “All I have to do is plant it and activate it.”

Her nod was barely a rustle in the dark. “It’s been endowed with a particular energy. Once it awakens and attacks, your work, darling, is to merely observe. I doubt they’ll find it easy to defeat.”

Fingering the shape, he snorted a laugh. When she had given it to him, he had figured her for a lark; no sailor soldier worth her garter would be scared of this particular creature. Then again, maybe Monty Python had it right, when evil was involved.

He straightened his shirt, bowing gallantly to her shadow. “Anything for you, my life and cruel mistress.” There was no bitter irony in his voice as he spoke what was fact, and he caught the railing with his hand as he swung onto the fire ladder and went down to street level. He had a cab to catch.











Foot tapping impatiently, she must have made quite a sight on the sidewalk. First off, not many people celebrated Halloween in this country, and second, crimson was always an eye catcher. She had made good on her promise to dress as an arrow-toting hero, and had done a bit of work to pull it off; even put her long copper hair in twin ‘tails.

The hat was right out of Errol Flynn’s movie, sharp and triangular and thoroughly scarlet, matching the band of fabric she had cut holes out of for a mask. Long gloves, a button short-sleeve, stretch pants – because she obviously had to cover herself decently, being not a duck unconcerned for any fleshly bits – and the damned puffy shoes, all shades of red, completed the look. She felt ridiculous, but also a bit pleased; no one would recognize her in this stupid looking getup. She’d even found a quiver, bow, and arrows at the toy store.

Again she looked at her watch, muttering beneath her breath. Hell with it, they could meet her upstairs. One last look around…

“Waaa! Sensei! Sug-oi!”

“That looks so great, Alex-chan!”

Makoto and Minako came running the last block, with the latter merrily swinging a wicker basket that no doubt contained her resigned feline. It didn’t match with her faux leather pants and top, her hair streaked with red and her make-up heavily obvious. “Do you like it?” she cooed, doing a spin right there on the sidewalk; poor Artemis had to be sick.

“What the hell is it?”

“I’m Aino Minako, rock goddess! Pretty cool, ne?”

Tactfully, Alex just nodded, cocking a brow; somehow, she imagined this momentous costume probably took her most of the week to decide on. She turned to Makoto to look over hers again, though she had seen the tall brunette bring it home earlier; a slim white sleeveless dress, veil, French heels, and a still-fragrant bouquet of pink roses. Unsurprisingly, Makoto had wanted to be a bride, but Alex had to convince her to slim it down and wear the shorter, plainer dress instead of some ridiculous confection of organza and silk. After all, American brides wore such simple dresses down the aisle as well as those silly frou-frou gowns.

“Have Ami-chan and Rei-chan arrived yet?” the long-haired blonde queried, looking around even as she spoke, still absently swinging her basket.

The tall red-head shook her head, divesting Minako of the wicker to open and peel out a green-around-the-gills Artemis. “I’m going to be ill,” he warbled, hanging his head over her arm. “I shouldn’t have eaten that tuna for my last meal, but it sang so sweetly to me…”

“I’ll bet Luna will be pleased to find out that the food had stolen her tom away from her with its serenade,” Alex snorted, noting that the white feline wasn’t sick enough to still throw her a dirty look. Though Diana was proof that they had to get together at some point, both were vehemently denying anything serious – even though you could always find one in the company of the other these days.

“Ara, Ami-i-i! Rei!” Makoto suddenly hollered, waving her bouquet madly and littering them with petals

It was like the parting of the Red Sea; everyone on the sidewalk had stopped in their tracks, standing aside, to let the two girls pass. Rei was, of course, dressed in what looked to be her oldest but serviceable robes, not holy enough to be tarnished by a costume party, her head held high. Ami was next to her, looking more and more nervous by the minute.

Ami was also not Ami, but Sailor Mercury.

And now, they could hear people talking, though mostly questions of “Where did you get that amazing suit?” and exclamations of “Mama, can I be a sailor soldier too?” as the girls walked past, somewhat stiffly. Ami had the shyest smile for them, though underneath was an odd twist, as if to say, See, I can be creative.

But what was amazing was that the people on the street thought it really was a costume, because surely, the real Sailor Mercury wouldn’t just be walking around as if she were some shy bookworm down the street. “Talk about your secret identities, holy shit,” Alex remarked faintly, scanning the crowd for any sign of danger, even a hint. No one suspected a thing. Such a difference from the States. “Nice costume, Ami,” she stressed in a louder tone.

“A-arigatou,” the blue-haired genius murmured, rubbing her arm. “I wanted to do something shocking for Minako’s happiness, and so….”

“It’s shocking, alright.”

“I wish I could’ve thought of it!” Minako sighed, looking petulant. “And I was the original!” She yelped as two sets of hands hauled her off the ground and immediately through the front doors, away from the street and the crowd. Artemis sighed.

Ami shuffled her foot, looking away towards the glass doors. “Are you mad, Alex-san?”

The tall red-head sighed. “Not much of a reason to be; after all, it is just a costume. Come on, let’s go inside before they decide to sacrifice her for good luck or something.” Minako had dropped the basket, thankfully, and they stopped to let Artemis crawl back inside before following the rather odd trio through the doors and into the quiet of the building.

And it was a nice, shiny quiet, of leather lounge couches, and a night clerk who gave them all a displeased look for the noise, as Minako was grumbling. It seemed rather audacious, as said clerk had dressed for the day as well in what looked to be a vintage Sex Pistols T-shirt, ripped vest held together by dozens of safety pins, and a rather sedate hot pink head of spikes. Getting up to file some papers gave them all a view of her pink leopard print stockings and cheap Doc rip-offs already beginning to tear. Alex gave her a pleasant leer.

“Shouldn’t we wait outside for Usagi and Chibi-Usa and Mamoru-san?” Ami questioned, glancing back at the doors where many passing pedestrians were doing a double take. The tall red-head snorted.

“Are you kidding? Mamoru is one person who can actually follow directions. He knows exactly where he’s going.” She pulled out her invitation, looking for the floor and room number. “If it were just the two ‘dango heads, then I’d be worried.”

They entered the elevator and headed for the top floor. On the way up, Alex briefed them on what to expect, mainly language barriers, possible alcohol, and foreigners acting quite stupid. She suggested they treat the latter like they would animals in the wild: observe, do not disturb. “If you don’t understand what someone’s saying, just repeat it in your head. Loudly. Imagine yourself screaming the thought. I’ll answer.”

“What do you mean? In our heads or across the room?”

“Yes, Minako. I’ll scream it at the top of my lungs so everyone can hear instead of being the discreet telepath, which would be the wiser decision.”

“You can truly do that, Alex-san? You said once, you can’t hear our thoughts very well,” Ami remarked as the numbers changed.

Alex shrugged. “Never could, unless I concentrate re-eal hard. That’s why I said to do it loudly.”

The elevator came to a smooth halt, opening up into the suite instead of an outer hallway. It was quite a nice place, too; the carpet looked thick and decidedly expensive, the woodwork dark and also expensive. Far too pretty to muck up by having multitudes of feet stomp around it for several hours, possibly drunk, and it looked like a few had already left their mark with wet spots here and there. Though for the most part, everyone seemed sedate and sober, the costuming more expansive than the noise level, at which Alex released a sigh of relief she didn’t even know she’d been holding.

Minako skipped off towards the table against the far wall, where the food and drink was laid out, dragging Makoto and Ami with her. Rei watched them go, then, after a moment’s decision, followed. Apparently food equaled safety. Not in the least hungry, Alex decided to take the plunge and enter the crowd, noting the minimal buzz in her head that signaled a thoughtful group more apt to quiet thinking than loud. She could stand a few hours of this.

She passed a witch, two Village People, a skeleton, a Pop-Tarts box, a unicorn top without the bottom, and a badly painted Frankenstein who looked as if he had skin cancer at whom she looked at askance. “Pretty awful, isn’t it?” someone asked next to her.

“Hm?”

“Franky over there. Cheap paint. Poor guy looks like he lost a bet.”

Glancing back at ‘Franky,’ she mused on what she was feeling from the questioner; some attraction, a lot of curiousity. Definite male. She looked over to her left to see the guy in question, dressed in what she supposed was a Zorro outfit. “And what about you? Zorro just screams ‘queen,’” she smirked.

His eyes widened slightly – a blue as dark as her own – before he laughed. “Me? I thought it was a good choice. I get to carry a whip, after all. You look like a negative Technicolor Robin Hood yourself.”

She fingered the hat, sweeping it off her head; already she was beginning to sweat beneath it. “Hey, I look like a leprechaun in green. I figured I may as well update.” Pointing at the strap across her shoulders, she added, “At least I get a bow and arrows. Much more effect than some pissy whip.”

“Maybe so, but the whip is a lot more versatile.” The fiendish smile he gave her was a familiar one; she’d caught herself in the mirror many a time wearing that same curve of lips. Either he was seriously trying to flirt, or he was smart enough to recognize someone who would understand his sense of humour.

For the briefest of moments, she caught herself wondering what would happen if she took it as the former and turned it on in return; she could do it; she could have had him on his knees, practically begging for her to touch him. And then what? Perhaps a night of decent, good, or maybe even excellent sex with no strings attached, coffee in the morning, and a pleasant good-bye. Possibly a couple of further interludes. Not love, not even much more than affection, most likely. Just the usual physical release and a second body next to her.

She really did envy Michiru and Haruka that way, as she had recognized immediately in them that kind of mutual respect and adoration that two people could have for their entire lives together. Even if they had been thick as brick in recognizing it themselves, she had no doubt that now, free from their burden as sailor soldiers, they were making up for every lost minute. Dear gods, she wanted that, and she couldn’t even bring herself to wish for it. Wishing only brought back the pain.

So she just smirked back, played it off, and said, “Aren’t we the dominating type? Just because you’ve got it, doesn’t mean you can use it.” Leaning in, she added in an obviously fake conspiratorial whisper, “I could always teach you,” to which he laughed heartily. The close up also gave her the additional benefit of seeing the rest of him beneath the hat; good cheekbones, a nose just slightly crooked from an obvious break – probably ran into a door as her brother had done – and dark brows to match blue black hair. Very nice, rather her type, though her ‘type’ usually consisted of men who seemed to match her father; slightly rumpled, dark colouring, and not at all innocent. Probably because she was such a pale white girl herself.

“Time to call a truce, maybe?” He held up his hands in mock pleading, giving her a rather adorable puppy expression beneath his mask. “We’ll agree to being perverted in equal measure, and go on from there.”

“Fine, fine. Wuss.”

There was then a peculiar noise coming from the windows at the far right wall. It sounded vaguely familiar, and disturbing; rather high-pitched and painfully lingering. Both of them exchanged looks of puzzled amusement before looking back towards the windows, where, on further inspection, the fire escape seemed to be located. Most of the party seemed to be following their lead; someone turned the music down.

That proved to be a mistake, as into the silence, they heard a terrible portend of doom; well, maybe not doom of the Irkin variety, but close enough for their taste.

“Pi-kaa-CHU!”

A large, round, yellow…thing…rolled into view onto the landing. It waved a pair of stubby arms for balance before pitching over, landing with yet another squeaky, loud “PIKACHU!” on what was presumably its face.

“Ara, ara, it’s Pikachu!” Minako cooed from the buffet table, looking fondly out at the yellow monstrosity. Someone, no, several someones, were laughing their asses off in the back corner.

“Who in the world would be suicidal enough to dress as a Pokémon?” Zorro said rather oddly, looking as though he were trying desperately hard not to laugh.

“Pocket Monster,” Alex corrected absently.

“Whatever. The fact remains. You’d have to be legally mad to dress like that willingly.”

Pikachu flailed its stubby arms again, rocking from side to side in another attempt to get up. Seeing as the body of the costume was about the same width as the current sumo champion and runner-up standing hip to hip, whoever was inside was going to be lying there for a while. That is, until two familiar girls appeared in the window as well, crying simultaneously, “Mamo-chan!”

Everyone stared again as Usagi, dressed in the predictable flowing gown and her mother’s pearls, and Chibi-Usa, in her rather patchwork pirate outfit, trying with all of their might to hoist Mamoru and his new weight problem. Unfortunately, it also set off another spate of irritating noises, as the costume seemed to have the same hidden buttons as a talking stuffed animal; every time they happened to poke in the wrong area, all they heard was “Pikachu! Pikachu! Pi-kaa-chu!”

By this time, Alex was laughing so hard she thought she was going to choke. Not that she was the only one in the crowd, as most of them seemed to be caught between horror and amusement. Ami and Makoto went to help pull Mamoru inside, as the window was rather small, and at least a metre or two off the floor. They grabbed his stubby arms and pulled, as Usagi and Chibi-Usa pushed; the sound function went off constantly for a full five minutes as they tugged and heaved. Mamoru looked ill, not helped by Rei grabbing an arm as well and beginning to tug.

Finally he popped through, though he had a nice cushion of three squashed civilian soldiers to break his fall. “M-Mamoru-san!” Ami squeaked, gesturing madly at his head buried (un)fortunately in her cleavage.

“Kami-sama, Mamoru-san, you’re heavy!” the tall brunette managed to enunciate from somewhere beneath his belly region. Rei only stared at her trapped legs, lost beneath mounds of yellow padding.

“I can’t take them anywhere,” Alex grunted, shrugging in apology to her conversation partner before heading over to help Minako lift the dark-haired prince up. The costume really did add a lot of weight, surprisingly. “Chiba, why in the hell are you wearing this? Didn’t your tuxedo come back from the cleaners on time?”

Upright, he gave her a weary stare, which became all too clear as his two princesses cleared the window and ran to his side. “It was the only thing they had left in my size.”

“Doesn’t Mamo-chan look adorable?” Usagi questioned, beaming.

No wonder the poor man was confined to lavender in the future.

“Hai, Mamo-chan looks so cute! And he makes noise when you press him here!” Chibi-Usa demonstrated by pressing his tummy; the party, which had continued on around them, came to a halt again to stare. “Isn’t it fun?”

Mamoru had a rather eloquently pleading look on his face. The face of a dead man, really; one could see the emasculation beginning. “Why didn’t you take the elevator?” Minako asked around a mouthful of coffeecake.

“We couldn’t all fit. I got stuck in the doorway.”









Some time later, after everything had calmed down and half of the guests had left, the party seemed like more of an informal crowd. Minako and the two ‘dango heads had managed to neatly polish off the buffet, though to be fair, Makoto, and even Ami, put in their time. No one seemed to mind, as most of the food had been more cookies and treats than healthy snacks. Rei had gotten herself into a conversation with an English teacher and devout Church of England member; they seemed to be debating the logical merits of Shinto vs. Christianity, though his Japanese was spotty, and her English worse. Mamoru had snuck off to the bathroom quite some time ago, presumably to hide in shame, because Usagi had developed the habit of randomly jabbing his tummy.

Artemis, Luna, and Diana, the latter two having hid in Chibi-Usa’s ‘Pirate Sack,’ had taken up refuge beneath the buffet table and its floor-length cloth, with the entire platter of shrimp and cocktail sauce.

Comfortable on a brown leather couch, Alex and Zorro – because neither had given their names they had to identify each other by costume – had been steadily waxing poetic on all things pop culture and intolerable. It was a relief for the tall red-head to unload after so long of being the odd one out; none of the girls understood a quarter of her jokes, her referral to songs and TV shows that were quite familiar to her and utterly alien to them. Hell, the guy even recognized her costume once she had explained it, they both agreed that Splatter Phoenix had been a woefully underused character, and that ‘Twin Beaks’ was still the best episode.

She was actually glad she had come to the party.

Damn that girl.

As they talked, neither of them mentioned the possibility of meeting again after the party; no doubt he was a junior member of some business trying to find a market in Japan, and he’d be going home soon. She didn’t mind, but it did bring back the memory of what she was missing during this self-imposed exile. More than once it crossed her mind that it might just be worth it to give him some charm, make it work; he found her highly desirable, that was obvious. Her damn morals were unfortunately still in working condition, reminding her just as often that she couldn’t do such a thing. No physical satisfaction was worth the problem of his finding out the truth about her, or the girls, and the possible scenarios she could envision were endless.

She could also see Minako, at intervals, throwing her what she supposed were gestures to the point of “He’s cute, do it!” as well as Makoto adding in with head-nodding “Go for it!” bobs AND Usagi giggling in her general direction. Though the naivete was cute, it was getting annoying. Now she realized what a relief had it been, in those years past, that most of the people she had hung around were not her age. Teenage girls were ridiculous.

Well. Ordinary teenage girls who hadn’t had the wind knocked out of them before puberty were ridiculous. Ordinary girls who had their lives stolen, manipulated, and essentially used were too old for their age, who ended up at parties thinking teenagers with hormones who giggled at possible romance were ridiculous. Like her. Like she’d done for years. Christ, had she even ever been a normal bloody teenager? Had she always been so damn cynical?

A big resounding ‘Yes.’

She picked at the food she had eventually chosen, nibbling at a carrot stick as Zorro said, “This country seems so fascinating to me. Everything’s so claustrophobic and cluttered, so fast paced, and yet, everyone has the time to be perfectly respectful.”

“Even though they’re secretly calling you every terrible name they can think of, because you’re gaijin,” Alex replied dryly, rolling the carrot between her fingers. “Not all of them, of course, just the xenophobic crazies and everyday salary men who think we’re just ignorant Americans.”

“Who says we’re all Americans?”

“The xenophobic crazies and every salary men who get pissed off at us if we mistake them for Chinese, Korean, or Vietnamese because obviously they all look differently and we should know that, yet think every white foreigner is American because we all look alike to them.” She smirked.

He stared at her thoughtfully, taking a sip from his plastic cup of punch. “You’re not an American, are you.”

The question had her pausing in the act of dipping her neglected carrot into a small mound of dip; generally, she hated the stuff, but she felt willing to try. She looked up, quirking a brow. “What makes you say that?”

“The fact that you seem to take all of this stuff like some kind of joke. Like it doesn’t matter to you if you fit in anywhere, because you’ve been everywhere,” he said astutely, stealing a piece of broccoli from her plate. “Americans seem to care, because they’re assholes. They need to be with the crowd. You just seem to barely be on the edge.”

She opened her mouth to reply; then closed it. What could she say to that? She had spent barely a decade with her actual family, then had it taken away from her. All she had done since then, it seemed, was move; a period of internment, a slow year spent to cross Europe, several spent in residence at a school that had her going constantly around the world, and, once, the galaxy. The Moon Kingdom, its fellow planetary alliances, she’d been always traveling to soothe some injury, or speak in Her name. Ghostly travels across the centuries in wait.

Maybe it did matter to her if she fit in, and maybe it didn’t. Maybe she just didn’t have the will to care if she fit into this particular society anymore than she fit in at the school. What did it matter anymore? There was always some damn responsibility, some fight, some war, something that demanded her attention. She would’ve been happy on a stage, singing and playing her guitar, but the fucking universe didn’t want to give her that pleasure.

“Fuck,” she muttered quietly.

And right on cue, because said universe seemed to be on a role, the buffet table exploded.













Mamoru had a serious problem.

Said problem was actually quite simple, as most serious problems are.

Problem: he needed to use the toilet, desperately.

Problem: the damn zipper on the costume was stuck.

Major Problem: HE was stuck in the stall doorway with the costume vocally protesting.

Solution: hacksaw.

Problem: he didn’t have one, and the security deposit was huge anyway.

So he had been twitching for the past hour and a half, praying to the kami and all their shades that someone would finally walk in and see his predicament and graciously help him. He had long ago past the point of realization that no sane individual would have worn this costume; it seemed to run on pure annoyance, and had not shut up since his wriggling had depressed the button. He had even tried transforming into Tuxedo Kamen, mighty bishounen hero, but the magic had merely wedged him in tighter as he gained the additional kilograms.

He also had a suspicion that the bathroom was as yet unused because everyone was drunkenly using the potted plants just outside the door.

Planting one foot against the stall wall and trying to bend the metal to slip free hadn’t worked either, as said foot had just slid off and dropped into the toilet. So he also had a damp leg to contend with as well. If this were some comedy TV show, he figured he would’ve had some disgusting bits added, so he did thank the kami that the last person flushed.

If only someone would come in….

The door banged open. “Mamo-chan!”

“Usa?” As he couldn’t turn around and see his princess, he had express his disbelief to the wall. “What are you doing in here? This is the men’s room!”

“There’s a daimon attacking the party!” she said as way of response, and he could hear her running towards him, as he had, appropriately, chosen the last stall. “Well, Ami-chan doesn’t think it’s a daimon, she said it doesn’t share the same characteristics as a daimon, but Minako-chan told me to run and transform because it would be less suspicious. Why are you standing in the doorway so oddly?”

“I’m stuck.” Truly, this couldn’t be more obvious.

So she grabbed onto his stubby arm and began to pull.










For being an evil creature risen from the centerpiece, it was rather clumsy.

“Halt!” Mercury shouted, being the only soldier in uniform, as she leaped to stand in the creature’s way. “Such wanton destruction won’t be allowed! No matter what you may be, I, Sailor Mercury, will send you back where you came from!”

It sat back on its haunches and stared at her.

Wiggled its ears a bit, as bunnies do.

The half-full room, pressed up against the opposite wall, seemed to relax. Maybe it was just a harmless four metre tall bunny rabbit after all, instead of some frothing, raving demonic animal. Or at least that was the general impression Alex could feel, which had her fighting to not roll her eyes in annoyance. “Uh, Sailor Mercury, aren’t you supposed to KICK ITS ASS instead of talking to it?”

“Of course! I just had to give it a warning first!” The blue-haired genius waggled her finger, obviously trying to stall for the others; no matter what, she was still generally the weakest of the soldiers, more defense than offense, and she could always use the help. Minako had already managed to slip off, Usagi was long gone, but Rei and Makoto had been forced into retreat with the rest of the party, dragging Chibi-Usa with.

Somewhere down the hall, there was a muted thud as Usagi and Minako pulled Mamoru free.

The bunny pounced, slamming Mercury down to the ground, and opened a mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth. She shrieked, lifting her hands to slam them against its face, desperately summoning her strongest attack to blast it away. It howled, attempting to lift its paws to swipe at its frozen face, much of its soft fur broken off into icicles and its eyes coated over with ice. Rolling to the side and onto her feet, Mercury called the magic to her hands again, intending to freeze it solid.

Instead, she had to duck as the bunny’s sharp claws swiped at her face, taking a few blue hairs off the top. “Where is Venus and Sailor Moon!?” Luna hissed beneath the table, muscles tensed to pounce.

“They should have been back by now, definitely,” Artemis agreed, poised as well.

Slashing again, the bunny lost its balance and stumbled back, landing its ample ass right in the middle of the buffet table. The trio of cats dove for cover as everything came crashing down, half-full trays and punch bowls scattering their contents across the carpet, glasses and plates breaking. Mercury was splashed with punch and vegetable dip; the cats were festooned with lettuce and smashed deviled eggs.

“Come on, little girl, do something!” someone shouted from the back.

“Mercury, hit it now!” Rei snapped.

Ice slammed into the bunny as it rocked back and forth, trying to get onto its feet. It went airborne, hitting the back wall and taking down several framed pictures and chunks of plaster with it. Enraged, it managed to roll onto its front paws, aiming its rear towards the blue soldier to fire what appeared to be its only defense.

Everyone knows those little round pellets you find during the summer that means a rabbit has been there. Neat, round little pellets of excrement that marked its toilet. Not really disgusting if you look at them casually, but not exactly something you’d enjoy putting your hand into.

Mercury got a face full of it.

They didn’t explode or splatter, but seemed to have the density of cannonballs; she was thrown over backwards, landing in the salad dish. At the same time, Luna and Artemis leapt out, using half of the broken table as a springboard, to land claws first on the bunny’s back, digging deep. It roared in fury, spinning around like some drunken ballerina, trying to shake them off as it was unable to reach them with its paws.

“Does this sort of thing happen often in Tokyo?” Zorro queried faintly, as the bunny succeeded in slamming back against the wall, squashing the unfortunate cats. They clung on tenaciously despite the pain, digging in all the deeper. So it repeated the process a second time, making an audible thunk noise as both cats smacked the wood. Neither held on much longer after that.

Alex palmed her face, muttering, running that hand back into her hair. “As often as it does in New York,” she answered flatly, pausing a moment to search again for the two blondes. All she could hear, as usual, was static; no sign that they had even transformed yet.

So she picked up the table and hit it on the head.

It staggered, going from enraged to confused as it sought out its attacker and found nothing; Mercury was still on the floor, dazed, and the table was apparently floating in the air on its own. Once more, it smacked bunny in the skull, this time hard enough to put another crack in the plastic. The other half of the table rose up, and together they performed a smashing example of “Shave and a Haircut” off the thick-skulled monstrosity, adding the “two bits” as a synched duo.

“Crescent Beam!”

The golden magic dazzled the partygoers who had yet to see such power, then slightly sickened them as it burned a nice, neat hole through bunny’s stomach. Scorched hair smell didn’t add much to the cigarette stench. It also did nothing to destroy the animal; despite several bashings to the head, being flash-frozen, and now, having a window installed in its tummy, it till managed to lumber forward and howl. “Didn’t that even hurt?” Venus grumbled from the doorway as Sailor Moon ran forward, holding her rod.

“Moon Spiral Heart Attack!” she shouted, leveling the weapon at her namesake.

Predictably, after so much damage, her power did the trick. The rabbit howled, disintegrating into a fine black mist, leaving behind a small object, which Mercury crawled forward to examine, and then, pick up. Then she promptly passed out.

“That was amazing!” some other idiot commented, which seemed to be the general consensus. The party loosened, spreading back into the room – though they did avoid the now mangled table and scattered food – as Venus and Moon knelt over Mercury, shaking her back awake. Without any further prodding, they lifted her up and, to the tune of scattering of applause, walked her into the elevator and made good their exit.

“After all of this, where’s Mamoru-san?” Makoto hissed.

“Perhaps still in the bathroom. Maybe we should go check?” the dark-haired shrine girl suggested, glancing at their mentor. After all, they couldn’t all leave immediately, it’d be too suspicious. Alex rolled her eyes back towards the bathrooms, and the girls took off, Chibi-Usa all but running.

Zorro seemed uneasy. “That was certainly weird. Very weird. Weren’t you the least bit worried?” he asked the tall red-head, who was staring critically at the destruction. “Such creatures running around…”

“No reason to be worried when the sailor soldiers are around to fix the problem.” She smiled dryly at him, though she could see he was unsettled by the event. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night, n’eh? Go back to your room and forget it happened, that’s what I’d say.”

He stared at her, eyes wide with tension. “I guess so; what else is there to do?” Then he laughed, surprising even her with its suddenness. “What an odd night. To meet you, such an interesting person, and then, this. How typical of my luck.” He smiled wanly in return, adjusting his hat brim. “I suppose I can’t ask you for a number, or even a name.”

“No reason to. You have a job, I assume, and so do I. Best to forget it.” Job, always about the job. “But it was nice talking to you.” Very nice, too nice.

“It was.” And he was walking away, leaving her behind, as she was long used to.

Damn it.











Staring at the stars again, they were still the same. The nights had grown colder; winter was finally here. Frost was already gilding the windows of her car, visualizing her breath as she lay on her back against the windshield, coat zipped tight. And down below her lay the lights of the city, the compact world she didn’t belong in.

It had been only a few weeks since the party, but she seemed to be in a perpetual funk since then. She knew it had gotten bad when she turned on her stereo one morning to find it had been playing nothing but Bauhaus and Nine Inch Nails “Broken” on random playback, and she hadn’t even recalled putting them in. That was bad, considering that her NIN collection only came out during special “I want to kill motherfuckers” suicidal moods.

So she hated her life. Big deal.

Actually, it wasn’t hate. It was discontentment.

Discontentment and a lot of gnawing despair.

And, well, sexual frustration in spades.

When she had been about sixteen, she had taken care of the problem much like her father did; she went out to clubs, found someone decent, went home with them, and shagged them rotten. Of course, she also had to find people who mutually respected the fact it was just a fling, nothing permanent, but New York had been full of such willing partners. And she hadn’t done it that often, really; she wasn’t a maniac, just healthy.

Now, she had an even bigger problem, as a foreigner was not likely to find such a deal in Tokyo. She didn’t even feel up to trying. And she really didn’t want to deal with the problem of Makoto or any of the girls finding out; she was not a prude, but she was also not about to flaunt her sexual adventures in front of them.

She draped her arm across her eyes, sighing deeply. It just wasn’t fair. Taking a lover just wasn’t possible when she had these responsibilities; no one would understand, unless they were fighting these battles with them. An ordinary human would just be a problem, just like the guy at the party.

Someone sympathetic to her duties would be just fine.

She sat up, slid off the hood, and got in. But instead of turning the engine on, she sat there, staring straight out of the windshield. It was no warmer in the car than outside, and her breath steamed up the glass as she pondered several things. One of them was that she wished spring would hurry up, winter was an overrated season anyway; with spring came warmth and green growing things and generally happier times. She’d most likely feel a lot less stressful once spring arrived, because it also meant that exams would be over with.

Another was that she might have a solution to her problem, two rather.

Finally, she turned the engine on and pulled out.

She drove rather aimlessly for another hour, knowing her destination after some mental research, but unsure of what to do next. It was a funny thing how she, after so many years, could still be apprehensive about anything. But as she made an effort to keep herself as relative to her age as possible, she supposed it was just one of those quirks you couldn’t avoid. She didn’t want to become like those ancient idiots who lost sight of everything that had once made them human, so she remained apprehensive as she finally turned down the last street.

It was a nice house, that much was obvious even at night. The driveway was nearly half a kilometre long, on the outskirts of the city, leading the driver even further into the countryside. Frost damaged flowers lined the asphalt, drooped and wilted, but even their remnants were spectacular; the entire yard would be a miracle come summer, if still slightly wild.

Only one other car was parked behind the house where the driveway ended. She parked next to it and climbed out, toying with her keys as she looked up into the sky.

Sometime during the drive, it had begun to snow, and the sky was still that unique shade of orange that lit up the world to a quasi-daybreak. She could see the massive trees that extended off into the distance, the carefully tended gardens, a swing set and sandbox. The accoutrements of a content family.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she considered again if this was such a wise choice. After all, they had no true loyalty to her or her sympathies. She could have read so many things wrong. Though she supposed the worst that could happen is that they’d shut the door in her face.

Knocking made her realize how cold her hands had gotten; she hadn’t even bothered to turn on the heat in her car. Her knuckles had gotten red. She put her hand back in her pocket and waited, staring out into the field where the snow had dusted the dying grasses like sugar. Even if she hated winter, she did have to admit it was pretty – she’d just rather see it on TV instead of real life.

When the door opened, she turned around, sure she looked like an idiot. “Michiru.”

“LeBeau-san? How did you find us? Is there a problem?”

“Maybe there is…I was hoping you could give me a solution.” She leaned against the frame of the door, resting her head as she fixed her gaze. “Maybe your sympathy.”

The aqua-haired beauty gave her a slow once over, before meeting her eyes. Whatever their history, the smile she gave the tall red-head was not in the least threatening. Nor was her invite mistakable for anything else. “Come in then, LeBeau-san.”

“Merci, cherie…so much warmer inside, after all.”

“You don’t enjoy the cold?”

“I hate it. But that isn’t a problem right now.”





She still hated winter, hated the cold and snow and dead fields of frosted grass that barely warmed with the touch of the sun. But it seemed to move so much quicker now that she had found a way to pass the time during the even colder nights.