A/N: for a character i dearly love, and used to dress up as, when i was a wittle girl. i think you're wonderful, hotaru, even if you frighten sailor uranus.

A/N: a character sketch, spanning the season of Sailor Moon S

A/N: opening lines are quotes from Sailor Neptune; ending lines are quotes from Sailor Moon

swallow my heart

(Humans all live by sacrificing someone in the end. Don't you think so?)

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She had no memories of a mother, so Hotaru did not know what she missed. In the "before times," her father was everything—the soft "Good night, sweetheart," before bed; the warm hug after a hard day; the breakfast served with a smile; the eyes that reminded her, you are my wonderful child.

Then—that day, the day cast in too-bright light.

She remembers only the feel of glass pressed against her nose, some vague excitement, then—Daddy? Daddy, what's going on!

(screams, screams, everywhere, all of the time)

And when she woke, her "daddy's" smile was different. Twisted. As if, when he said the words, "Good night sweetheart," he was merely humoring her—taunting her. And the sound was empty.

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Time bent in on itself, cracked and shuddered. What is time? I am time.

Hotaru lost hours, whole days, even weeks she believed, to darkness. She would be walking to school, content in the fall crisp air, when suddenly her chest became tight and her legs weak—then nothing. Darkness.

Or, reading in the park, minding her own business, not talking to strangers, not meeting anyone at all, and her body would rebel, rebel against her. Darkness.

And just before Hotaru lost herself to the darkness, always, always laughter in the back of her mind.

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She often woke to the sounds of a child crying.

Who is there? She'd wonder—

But there was always that deep, taunting voice: Oh, stop that crying, will you? Such contempt, it hurt Hotaru's ears to hear it, but never did it go away.

In the gloom of early morning, with the house still hauntingly quiet, she'd hear soft murmurs, little secrets pouring to her ears: Did you know, girl, that you're—better? Better than normal girls? Better than any human on earth? For you are much, much more than mortal.

Or, as she'd arrive on the threshold of her classroom, a sudden jab of: Look, you are surrounded by enemies. All of them, they want to hurt you.

And the voice struck her with fear most when she whispered: You're mine, girl. Forever.

(and the words were accompanied by visions—visions of decrepit cities, scores of bodies lying in their own blood, the sky gone dark, and most of all, a lone figure surveying the scene with a regent's staff and a grin)

(who are you? She begged, but to no avail, to no avail)

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There was another voice, a softer one, less intrusive than the other. It was infinitely calm, as if a thousand years old, as if it contained more wisdom than ancient civilizations could muster.

Your destiny is to save the world, it said, and it was sure of itself. You have a gift both great and terrible.

Terrible? Hotaru would weep. Why terrible? I don't want to be great or terrible!

(I just want Daddy back!—)

And Hotaru had trouble trusting this voice because at these critical moments, it refused to answer.

(why, why, why am I so terrible?)

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Littered in amongst her days was a tiny pink-haired doll of a girl: Rini. Little rabbit. The one with big eyes and bigger dreams, the one with the laugh that knew no darkness, the days that knew no cloud.

"Let's be friends," she smiled at Hotaru, as if she didn't know—didn't know about the voices, the darkness, the terror.

And Rini played card games with her new friend, visited her in the hospital, worried and fretted over her because she thought she was special. A special kind of special. A special that was somehow lighter and lovelier than the "greatness and terribleness" or the "more than mortalness."

And Hotaru wanted to weep for joy, thank you, Rini! Thank you! I wish that I could have a heart like yours.

(But as soon as she said that, the darkness coiled and smiled: It shall be done.)

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The cries of a little girl ripped through the fog. Someone else was weeping hysterically nearby, someone with a vaguely familiar voice, and—where had she seen this blonde, blue-eyed woman before? Hotaru lifted her head, stared.

But, God, it felt so heavy; why was she so exhausted, so sleepy? Why could she not summon the energy to move or to open her eyes?

Where am I? and she could not feel her body—

Till, oh, oh! Yes! Something sugar-sweet and soft came, lifted to her lips and down her throat, as if she were swallowing birds. Wonderful, she could almost hear someone clapping. Wonderful, the voice said. Now we have the purest heart.

And dread, ah, that angry mistress, she made herself known.

Rini? Where is Rini? Hotaru asked, and the bird inside her chest bowed its head and turned away.

Here, smiled the Voice, and she burst forth, cackling. You are mine, girl.

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(What is time? I am time.

Do I weep? No.

Do I fear? Certainly not.

I am Destined.)

Another presence moved, nudged, inside Hotaru's chest. It was too noisy, too crowded: could she not have time to think for herself? Could she not have absolute silence, just this once? She wanted to throw her head back in exasperation—what now? What could you possibly take from me now?

And the Voice replied, Your life. Your life for theirs.

The solution was so easy, so agreeable, that Hotaru blinked, smiled, succumbed.

Alright then. Take me. Swallow my heart.

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They knew her afterward as Sailor Saturn, the figure who "brought Armageddon, who cast the world back to its ancient beginnings, who had no heart." The barely human Sailor, hailing from a distant planet, the illusion of beauty in a place where death lurks. The one who could not be trusted. The one who had raced in at the last second, determined to save them all, by virtue of her own death. They said her name in reverence, in fear, as if she were more than mortal, as if she were both great and terrible—

While pushing around the stroller with the babe inside, the babe rolling over in her place, searching for Daddy, Daddy and Rini.

(I am Sailor Saturn, the daughter of destruction, and my destiny is to die.)

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(Should you think about the other people who are being sacrificed? I can't ignore other people suffering to save myself!

We can save the world!

So said the pretty blonde, the angel, the messiah, the liberator, the mother of the purest heart—one who knew no evil, come to save the girl from her destiny)

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fin.

A/N: hey, hey! yay for experimenting with the writing style :)

A/N: i hate to ask, but please don't favorite without leaving a review. reviews make me better, FOR MY LOVELY READERS ;D