When Michiru was eight, she decided that it was finally her turn to prank her class' substitute teacher.

A flu had taken hold amongst the faculty of her elite private school, and, irritated at the constant disruption to their studies, many of the bolder students had begun to act out, deliberately scoring average results on random quizzes that didn't count towards their grades and adopting clumsy motions instead of grace in PE. Some had even faked illness to escape to the nurse's station for a little while. The entire school knew there were no punishments likely to be meted out, and against all the pressure that the school had placed upon the students, demanding success in all things, there was a high level of stress to be relieved. Michiru had wanted to join the other students in their games for quite some time, but she had no ability to misbehave; it simply wasn't in her nature. She had toyed with several ideas for creating chaos based upon examples she had read in books (entertaining the thought of various schemes to drop buckets of water on the substitute teachers had filled several slow afternoons), but ultimately they were all dismissed as either too inelegant or likely to cause true trouble for Michiru.

But one sunny day, when their substitute art teacher shooed the class outside with a set of watercolours and instructions to "paint what they saw," Michiru knew her hour had come at last.

While several of the boys (including the Principal's son, who was likely soon to earn a note to his parents despite their rank in the school community) had taken the instructions literally and were illustrating the concrete with an oversize orange blob that Michiru supposed could eventually turn into a lion (with six legs), Michiru sat herself down on a bench and quite calmly painted the playground before her on the heavy paper they'd been given.

So absorbed was she in her work, so enthralled in the flow of brush on paper, that Michiru failed to hear the bell signalling the end of class. She jumped when the substitute teacher called her name, and was surprised to realise that the rest of her classmates had long since left her behind.

"You must truly love painting, Kaioh-san," the teacher said as Michiru hurriedly began to put away her paints. "May I see your work?"

Michiru nodded, suddenly shy and unsure of herself for the first time in a long time. Now that the moment was upon her, she was strangely hesitant to upset her teacher, who hadn't been that bad for a substitute, letting them paint without interference. And her teacher was beautiful in the sunshine that bathed the playground; the breeze gently tugging at her long dark hair reminded Michiru of someone else.

The knowing way the teacher smiled at Michiru made her wish that she had painted a flower as her friend Nanako had done. Something dark red, perhaps a rose? No, that would have been improper.

"This is beautiful, Kaioh-san," the teacher said, and Michiru realised that she had picked up the painting, still damp from her brush, and was holding it in the sunlight to examine the image more closely. "I especially like what you've done with the swing-set."

"I... that is..." Michiru stammered, staring at the teacher's shoes and blushing to the roots of her perfectly styled hair as she remembered her dream of the partially-submerged swing-set surrounded by the crumbling school buildings and fallen trees.

"This is meant to be the end of the world, isn't it?" Meioh-sensei asked in an gentle tone.

Michiru looked up in shock, all embarrassment forgotten. She'd originally wanted to startle the teacher with the image from her dreams, she hadn't expected her to understand. "Yes," the girl said in a small voice, remembering too late that the last time she told an adult of her visions she'd been subjected to weeks of therapy afterwards. A smooth hand caressed her face, and Michiru looked up into her teacher's garnet eyes with more than a little fear of the consequences. There was an easy smile on Meioh- sensei's face, as if this sort of conversation was commonplace for her.

"It's a beautiful painting, Michiru-san, but it doesn't have to happen that way."

"It doesn't?"

"Your dreams are a warning, nothing more." There was something very reassuring in Meioh-sensei's tone, and Michiru found herself grinning in sudden relief. She'd been so scared for so long, it was nice to hear that someone believed that her demons were more than just bad dreams. "When you're older you'll be able to change the future so this never happens. It's your destiny, Michiru-san."

"Yes, Sensei." Michiru picked up the paints and hugged them to her chest.

"Now, little soldier, I suggest you go and enjoy the few minutes left before your next class." She looked up at trees surrounding the playground as if listening to words on the wind that rustled through them. "And you should ask your parents for some lessons in oil painting. Curiously, I don't think watercolours are the right medium for you."

Michiru nodded, feeling very shy but more certain of her path than ever before, and Meioh-sensei took the paints from her.

"May I keep your painting?" the teacher asked, and the girl nodded once more, not trusting her voice. "Run along then, play while you still have time."

And Michiru did.

Four years later, they met again at the opening of Michiru's first exhibition. The girl had been surprised at how many people were present in the brightly lit gallery, all dressed up in their finery and drinking far too much of the provided alcohol, and while those she recognised were colleagues and employees of her father, there seemed to be just as many who were there to talk about the paintings themselves and that was somewhat flattering.

Michiru herself was trying to keep a low profile, at least amongst the dealers and critics. Anyone who knew her mother would probably recognise her, and certainly anyone who knew the Kaioh name knew her parents, but she didn't much feel like being the centre of attention and she definitely did not want to enter into yet another discussion of what exactly the image of a broken and twisted Tokyo Tower was meant to symbolise. It was bad enough when the agent her parents had hired spent the last two weeks trying to pry from Michiru a romantic (and perhaps a little twisted) story about what inspired her for the gallery notes; she really didn't need the rest of the art scene picking apart her efforts in the hope of understanding. After an hour of socialising with them it was all Michiru could no not to run screaming through the room declaring to all and sundry that the only truth her paintings held was that they were all going to die when Tokyo burned.

As she escaped up a mostly decorative staircase at the rear of the gallery, Michiru wished that she had her violin with her. No one ever bothered her when she was playing her violin, as if the instrument itself was sacrosanct. It probably was; Michiru had heard whispers amongst the stall that her father had paid more than their yearly salaries to buy it for her after she had complained about the tone of her practice instrument. But Michiru's mother had forbidden Michiru from bringing it that night, as if she had known how much her daughter would long to escape into her music, and she was probably right in doing so. No one likes a show off, after all, and playing what she was told was very good music at the opening of a show of what she was told were very good paintings would be showing off.

Leaving all the noise and chaos and champagne and well-meaning critics in the gallery below, Michiru sat herself down on the top step, out of direct sight of the party. She could still see the paintings though, and that was all that really mattered to her. She wanted to be alone with the images from her dreams, to codify in her mind that by committing them to canvass she had destroyed all chances of them ever coming true. That the darkness of her own mind could be banished as easily as a brush drawn across silk.

From her perch high above the party, it was all too easy to watch the glamourous tall woman in designer clothes with improbably long hair break away from her pack of admirers and follow Michiru up the stairs, glass of wine in hand. She offered it to the seated girl, but did not appear offended when she shook her head in polite refusal.

"You're missing a lot of fun down there," the woman said, and Michiru rolled her eyes, uncharacteristically acting as a girl her age for the first time all night. "There's a vicious rumour circulating amongst the revellers that an anonymous art lover has bought the entire collection."

"What?" Michiru nearly fell from her step. "All of them?"

The woman chuckled. "So the rumour says. It seems you're about to become an independent young woman of wealth." She flicked her hair like one of the ditzy socialites below and somehow in that mocking action Michiru recognised her.

Michiru took a moment to process the news, staring down at a painting of three young women standing before a dark wave that threatened to drown the entire planet. "What are you doing here, Meioh-sensei? This doesn't seem like the sort of place a substitute art teacher is casually invited."

"I haven't been Meioh-sensei since I was working my way through fashion school," the woman smiled at her gently.

"Meioh-san then."

"My agent forwarded me an invitation, and I was curious to see if you were the same Kaioh Michiru I remembered meeting."

"I took up oil painting as you suggested." She had also experimented with watercolours for more personal projects, but Meioh-san didn't need to know that. She had been right that the scenes of apocalypse were better suited to the heavier medium, but Michiru also enjoyed painting lighter images for herself in the moments that weren't taken by her studies or other hobbies. Sometimes she even tried to pretend that she was like other girls, who knew nothing of the end of the world.

"You've become surprisingly good at it for such a short period of time. It's no wonder they gave you this exhibition. Some day you will be one of the modern masters."

"If we somehow manage to avoid becoming one of my paintings. Do you really believe it's possible for all this to be avoided?" The bitter words burst forth from Michiru's deepest fears as she gestured out at the gallery full of scenes of destruction.

Meioh-san nodded, and Michiru realised for the first time that she didn't seem any older than Michiru remembered. There was an ageless quality to the older woman that she hadn't recognised before, but now it seemed curiously conspicuous. "It will require a great sacrifice, but it is possible that this future will not come to pass." Her voice was deceptively calm for one discussing the end of the world.

"Sacrifice?" Michiru stood and looked out over the balcony at the people below, smoothing down her ruffled turquoise dress with one hand. She didn't particularly like any of them, but she also didn't know that she wanted any of them sacrificed, even to save the future.

"If you knew the world would be saved if just one of these people died, could you kill them?" Meioh-san's voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that scared Michiru with its cold finality.

"It's not that simple, surely?"

"What if it was?"

Michiru drew a deep breath, suddenly feeling that her pretty party dress was too tight, that she was trapped in a destiny not of her choosing and that she would never be free to do as she wished. Why would anyone ask this question of her? What kind of sick person was Meioh-san?

"I don't think I could ever kill anyone," Michiru said finally. "The whole point of saving the world is protecting the people who live on it."

And that was the truth of the matter, as far as she could see.

"I can think of many people who this world would have been better off without." Michiru could think of several herself, when it was phrased in that manner, but with hindsight all things are clear. "To write the path of history to our liking, the villains should be eliminated."

Michiru looked down at the tipsy revellers, and then at the painting of the three women and the wave. "But none of these people are villains."

"They could be, with very little prompting."

And in that moment, Michiru recognised Meioh-san as one of the figures from her dreams, one of the soldiers who would fight and die for the sake of saving the world. She almost felt sorry for her.

"You're a very strange person, Meioh-san," Michiru said softly.

"Just promise me that you'll think about the question, Michiru-san." Meioh-san turned from her to start back down the stairs, taking a sip of the wine in her hand. She looked back over her shoulder with a look that seemed to convey many lifetimes of regret. "The world may someday depend upon your decision."

"Enjoy your paintings, Meioh-san," Michiru said, and smiled as she noted the slight nod of the woman's head. She sighed and straightened her dress as Meioh-san disappeared into the crowd, before returning to the party herself, a thousand thoughts swirling in her mind like waves caressing the shore.

A phone call, two years later:

"Hello?"

"This is Kaioh Michiru."

"I'm a little surprised that you have this number."

"I'm a little surprised that you were there to answer it." A beat. "Maybe not, but I am surprised to find that you really work in fashion."

The older woman laughed at that. "Every soldier needs a hobby. I design clothes to keep my demons at bay just as you paint and play violin."

"And the third?"

"I'm forbidden to tell you about her. You shall have to find her on your own."

There was a long pause and Michiru considered this, and everything else Meioh-san had ever told her. "Who are you?" she asked finally.

"Meioh Setsuna."

"You see more clearly than I do."

"I see differently. You see truth while I may merely observe the possibilities."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Someday you will."

A sigh. "I don't need any precognitive abilities to know that I'm going to come to hate that phrase."

Setsuna laughed genuinely, and Michiru blushed on her end of the line. "Will you teach me how to fight?" she asked, embarrassed.

"When the time is right, you will find you already know."

Michiru mumbled something inaudible under her breath. It wasn't terribly polite. "The enemy is already here, Setsuna-san."

"I know."

"Then why don't we destroy them before they have a chance to come to power?"

"Do you know who they are?"

"No."

"Neither do I. We must wait until they make a move before we can identify them."

"I hate waiting."

"Be like the ocean, Michiru. Patient and utterly sure that you'll wear all rocks to sand eventually."

"I have to go," Michiru said after a long moment. "May I call you again sometime?"

"I'd like that," there was a fondness in Setsuna's tone that Michiru had never heard before.

"Thank you, Setsuna-san, for being there."

"You're welcome."

"Oh, and Setsuna? The answer to your question is yes."

"Hello, Neptune," Setsuna said, sipping at her latte.

"You can tell then?" The fifteen-year old Michiru smiled joyfully at her companion. "Did you always know?"

"Yes." She was as beautiful as ever, but when she smiled her welcome and acknowledgement, Michiru's heart beat a little faster. Michiru ordered herself a coffee as she sat down. "You've recovered your memories of your last life then?"

"Yesterday, when the Star Light Tower lit up, I remembered. I'd already known about being Sailor Neptune-one of those youma beasts attacked my school last week and I transformed to destroy it-but in the rush of exams and distractions I had not remembered the details of what passed before until that flash of light." Setsuna nodded. "I do not remember you in the Silver Millennium."

"Before my current incarnation, I was not often a part of the Kingdom. My duty keeps me away unless the need is truly great." There was a great sadness behind those words, and Michiru did not know how to alleviate it.

"I'm glad you're here now." Setsuna smiled at her, causing Michiru's heart to thump once more. "Do you know what the enemy is after?"

"They seek the three Talismans that shall summon the Holy Grail-"

"-so that the Dark Messiah can bring the Silence," Michiru finished, understanding their plan at last. "The Talismans... they're hidden in pure hearts of good people, aren't they?"

"Is there such a thing as a good person?" Setsuna winked at her. "But yes. Your task - you and Uranus - will be to find them."

"I've met Uranus, but she hasn't awoken yet." Michiru felt rather confused about the whole experience. The other girl had been aloof, almost rude, concerned only with running, with escaping from her destiny, though she didn't seem to know that was what she was doing. Much as she herself didn't want to fight, Michiru knew that this was her destiny. She almost envied Uranus' choice to run from it for as long as she could.

"She will come around." Michiru cradled to herself the memory of the sketch she had drawn of Tenoh Haruka. Somehow she didn't want to share it with Setsuna just yet. "Uranus has always been strong willed and independent. There is still time for her to be innocent, for all of us to live in peace."

"Shouldn't we be helping the Guardian Senshi to fight the youma?"

Setsuna shook her head over her coffee. "They need to grow and discover their own strengths. If we were to assist, with our stronger powers, they would never become the soldiers that the earth needs to protect it."

Michiru pouted a little. She had enjoyed the thrill of power that had come from fighting the youma, although it was true that it was too easily defeated. Their hidden enemy was much stronger than the Dark Kingdom, and it would take all their strength to find and defeat them. "I had a vision that the enemy may be gathering its strength in the Delta zone, somewhere in the reclaimed land," she said eventually. "I've put in an application to transfer to Mugen Gakuen next term."

"Going undercover?"

"I have a bad feeling about the school. I think it would be smart to investigate them."

"I'm currently studying physics at K.O. University. It isn't too far away, so I might be able to help with your research."

"Will you pose as an art teacher again?"

Setsuna smiled as if to suggest she knew more about what was going on than Michiru. "If it suits my purposes."

"Do I get to know what those are?"

"Nope," the older woman laughed, "it's more fun this way."

"You're infuriating, Setsuna-san."

"I've had a long time to practice."

Michiru boldly leaned across the table and kissed Setsuna. For a moment the older woman looked stunned, and then she kissed the girl back, just for a moment, before pulling away. "I can't, Michiru."

"Why not?"

"It's not time", and there was the hint of Pluto in her voice, cold and all knowing.

"And when will it be time? Will there be time before the end of the world?"

"After you've found the talismans, perhaps. If we manage to stop the end of the world, then we can talk about this again. Until then, I must remain apart from you and Uranus. Our paths lie separately." She stood and walked quickly from the cafe, stopping only to hand some coins to the cashier for her drink.

Michiru sighed, one finger lightly tracing her lower lip, and her coffee grew cold as she waited in silence for something she couldn't name.

There was an aquarium at the top of the Kaioh building in the Delta. Few people knew about it. Fewer still had the permission of security to access the top floor of the building. This was Michiru's space as much as it was her element, blue and private, and she felt more at ease with her powers and her destiny here than anywhere else, even the shores of the ocean itself. The controlled environment was cushioning, keeping the outside world and its frivolities and fears at bay, and it had fantastic acoustics. Michiru felt almost naked standing in this place without her violin in hand.

"It's beautiful," Haruka said, unable to decide where she should look first. A sting ray swam overhead and she stared at it in some amazement. "How on earth did you build this?"

"With enough money you can buy a permit for most anything," Michiru smiled, remembering the trouble she had encountered with the council and how easily it had been solved by crossing their palms with silver. "I heard that you had built your own racetrack on Awaji Island."

"It's not in Tokyo though. And it's not like I can visit it whenever I want."

"True, but you do have your helicopter hanger on the roof of the Ten'nou building."

"Would you like to go flying sometime?" The words burst from Haruka before she had a chance to stop them, and Michiru smiled in delight. They had both come such a long way from that hesitant first meeting at the running track, and yet this was the first time that Haruka had thought to invite Michiru into her own space. Perhaps there was hope for her wishes for companionship after all.

"I'd like that very much." She held out her hand to the taller girl, who took it somewhat hesitantly, as if afraid of the consequences. "Haruka, I know you agreed to join me in the fight against the Death Busters, but I want to be sure that you understand our mission."

"We're going to to find the Talismans and prevent the Messiah of Silence from awakening." The words sounded so much lighter than the meaning they truly contained. If only it would be that simple.

Michiru dropped Haruka's hand and turned away to watch a school of angelfish amongst the imported coral. When she spoke, her voice was flat and toneless, as she spoke the truth she'd not wanted to acknowledge before, the meaning of Setsuna's question all those years before. "The Talismans are hidden in the pure hearts of innocents. When a pure heart is removed from its owner, that person will die. We will be responsible for the deaths of those innocents; we must not save them from their fate or the world will fall. This is our task as the soldiers of the outer solar system." Michiru placed a hand on the glass of the aquarium wall, wondering if the chill she felt came from it or her own heart.

"I know," Haruka reached out and took Michiru's hand back in hers, forcing her to turn and look up at the other girl. Their blue eyes met and held, and Michiru realised that Haruka really did understand. "We'll fall into hell together."

Later on, Michiru would never know which of them initiated the embrace, but it was necessary. They were soldiers, and they were strong, but they were still human, and neither wanted to lose that, no matter what their destiny required of them.

The phone rang, and Michiru heard it go to the answering machine once more. She patted at her hair with the towel, drying it from her swim as she walked into the lounge room of Haruka's apartment. Haruka was sitting in the window seat, staring out at the world beyond. Eudial had just pronounced to the machine that she knew the location of a talisman, and it would fall to them to take it from her, regardless of whose heart had once held it safe.

Haruka stared at her hands, as if knowing that they would be stained forevermore that afternoon. Michiru reached out and took them in hers with a smile. "It's all right, Haruka," Michiru said softly, "I like your hands."

Haruka smiled back. They would be tainted and corrupt together. That was their duty as soldiers, and the sacrifice that they would make for the sake of the world. No matter how dirty their hands were, they wouldn't have any regrets.

Michiru kissed her gently, her hand brushing the tears from Haruka's face. Haruka reached for Michiru and held her tight, as if afraid she would lose her.

"We'll stop the Silence and find the true Messiah," Haruka said grimly. "Together we'll spring this trap. Should we call Setsuna?"

Michiru nodded. "It's time."