End

Usagi had grown a habit of sitting by her glassed balcony door and staring at the night sky in silence before going to bed. Some quiet music went on meanwhile usually, and Luna would also leave her in silence in these half hours. It helped her calm her fluttering mind after all day's goofing around. This routine seemed beneficial, too: since she had started it – or since whatever had started that caused these silent periods – it increased her efficiency at preparing for final exams.

It was the end of February in their last year at high school. There was sloppy, melting snow everywhere, and the ebony sky had no stars, it shivered under a thick blanket of clouds. Her cornflower blue eyes would still inspect it like there were tons going on up there. She would prop her head on a pillow to stay in the right position without effort, and she would gaze upwards absently, her look moving from roof to roof. I'm looking out for spring to come, she would answer when asked about it. Such an uncharacteristic depth. Perhaps she had started growing up just now.

v V v

Otherwise, she was her old self. She stuffed herself with sweets without gaining a redundant pound. She loved pink and fluffy. She often got on the wrong bus. She was stuck at the basics in most subjects. And she was deeply, truly fond of her Mamo-chan.

They would take walks and have a drink together, he would choose a coffee and buy her an ice cream bowl of her preference. They would chatter a lot, that is, she would twitter around the most, because when he was to tell something lengthy, she often lost track of the words and sentences he used, and he knew not to force it needlessly. She would hold onto his arm while walking among strangers, or he would rest his palm on her shoulder, like she was family. Sometimes they would stay out after dark and gaze at the stars.

They would fall silent then, she'd cuddle to him tightly against the evening chill, and among the soothing rustle of waking insects, they would wonder at the vastness of the Universe together. He would muse about all the undiscovered corners of Space, and she would think about a faraway galaxy she had never seen, until her mind was invaded by memories.

So much laughter among them.

She knew there were sad times, too, but strangely, whenever she thought of him, it felt like they only had cheerful times together. Like he had never ever stopped smiling, being full of life, teasing or joking and making her react. He was always bright and seemed to enjoy every moment with her, even though he knew it was momentary bliss. Or exactly that's why…?

When she had this idea, she got frightened for a moment that Mamo-chan had heard the crack in the silence as her heart broke. But it was a silly thought, of course, quite usual from her.

v V v

She couldn't sleep that night. She was lying on her back in the dark next to the slumbering Luna, her arms folded across her face. She couldn't stop thinking of him all day, which was out of ordinary.

And soon she realised why it was happening; at least she believed that it had to be the reason. Her eyes shot open with a gasp the moment the three shooting stars entered the Earth's atmosphere.

A dream, she thought at first.

But so real.

An illusion? These senses had never lied before.

Why would he come? She didn't mean the thoughts, she just entertained herself with them, the way a drug addict at rehab suckles on an empty roll of paper. She didn't want him to come back, he would ruin everything. He would stir her up like this, create illicit, out-of-place excitement in her.

She clambered out of bed with shaky limbs. Luna, thinking she was heading for the bathroom, opened one of her eyes lazily at the movement of the mattress, and then she drifted back to sleep.

A dream?

Usagi had to see. She wanted to see.

Him.

She snuck down the stairs in utter silence, turned the key in the entrance door without a clink. Everything served her purpose right now.

Padded boots on her bare feet, winter coat over her pyjamas, shivering in this attire, she ran along the lit street as fast as her tightened lungs let her. It took an eternity to reach where her senses led.

When she turned in the last corner, she caught sight of the three former pop stars standing with their backs to her, apparently lost in discussion. Only the midnight blue eyes were looking back at him over his shoulder, they had looked moments before she had appeared. They knew of each other without having to think, hear, see. That's what she'd have thought then, had she not been abandoned by all thoughts as her eyes saw him acknowledge her.

Blankly, she ran. He turned and shouted at her, he shot out to reach her sooner, but he was too late.

Her body was thrown high up by the van's front, it twisted in the air like a neglected marionette. The vehicle crashed into the nearest lamp post, crumpling up. She hit the ground nearby, flat and artless. He braked and collapsed to his knees next to her head, his hands wouldn't reach out to touch her, they were peremptorily clutching his face, attempting to hide the sight from him while he strived to peek through the gaps between his fingers, air loudly rushing in an out of his throat, never seeming to reach his lungs.

He would hide his face in a similar manner later on, too, whenever these memories returned to haunt him. He had no control over it, even though he was aware that hiding the present world only created the illusion of being thrown back in time to relive what he had caused again, and again, and again.

She died within that minute, the crystalline shining of her heart slept off in a breath's time.

His brothers attempted to drag him away, away from here before the other senshi arrive, undoubtedly having sensed the death of their Princess. But he wouldn't move, how could he not have faced them?

Strangely back then, the Prince protected him during his powerlessness. Though his strength wasn't sufficient to face all senshi at once, he fought off their attacks until the first impulse of revenge died out. Later, much later, a night and several hours' useless police interrogation later, he let him know why. To lengthen his sufferings. To let him live on with what he had done.

v V v

Haruka.

She wasn't a rival to compete any more. She was the punishment he took gratefully among all the next weeks' undeserved comforts of ignorance and caring.

He wasn't sure if it were tears or blood wetting his cheeks when she punched him in the face for the umpteenth time, and there was no temptation in him to defend. Pale fingers kept a grasp on the neck of his shirt, and her other hand was clamped in a fist, her knuckles bruised already.

"You…"

A punch, sparkles.

He was breathing through clenched teeth, his fingers crawled on the wall behind him from the pain. His look was fixed on the ground beside them.

"How could you-"

He didn't want to but he unwittingly released the sobs induced by the next hit. He knew it was his inner pain that made him weak, not the beating, and he faintly regretted that it looked otherwise from outside. He took deep, fast breaths through his hoarse throat, swallowing the irony fluid seeping down from his stuffed nose.

"Don't you dare cry on me, you worm," snarled the windsenshi, lifting her fist once again.

But then her free hand joined the other one clutching his shirt, and her head bent down between her stretched-out arms, hands pressing him to the wall with a suffocating clasp at his collarbone. He clenched his fingers, resisting the urge to defend as he had to cough.

At the sound, she stopped. She let him loose, though not letting go of the shirt, and tossed him to the wall with force, causing him to suppress a groan. She repeated the motion several times, with growing fervour as her rage wouldn't dissipate. Strangely, despite her being the one on the offensive, her look showed helpless struggling as it fell on him again.

She released him and stepped back, though she wasn't satisfied. She presented him with a right hook one last time; he yelped at the impact and reeled off his feet.

She took in his broken sight from above; it definitely wasn't enough, it never would be. But with that thought, she willed herself to leave. His wretched, twisted life was long enough to return later.

v V v

Uranus broke in on the demon from the side, a single swish of the Space Sword separating it from all four limbs, the blast tossing its squealing body farther away. The severed limbs, now plain roots, couldn't keep the popstar locked on the ground any more when she kicked him into the other direction. The thundering jolt at his spine almost made him regret having been born.

"You lousy scum," she spat with contempt and didn't feel the need for further explanation. It wasn't the first time lately that he performed awful in battles, one could tell it was on purpose.

His head throbbed sharply as he attempted to lift it off from the ground, so he stayed lying on his side motionlessly, watching the dark pool slowly widen under his face, listening to the struggle of the unfortunate monster farther away. It was mostly a physical battle; magical attacks of light energy were growing weaker each day, as the crystalline essence of the Solar System, its core energy source was gone. Until its rebirth, this world was doomed to darken, vulnerable against manifestations of Chaos.

Another kick on his stomach jerked him back from fainting; his body rolled over helplessly, and he coughed from the blood trickling down his throat.

"If you want some beating, come to me," she commanded, her clothes ragged, her exposed skin seeping from thin wounds. She kneeled and grasped the neck of his shirt to pull him up; she spoke through a tense jaw. "I won't let you do as you please, because I'm going to be the one who ends you, and only after I've had my share at giving you what you deserve."

Her voice faltering, she threw him back on the ground with force, and she sat near his head, burying her face into her hands.

"Go ahead." His voice was faint. "Finish it."

Her fingers clenched around the sandy locks, pulling on them to ease the tension. Her body was shaking from the anger that didn't have a target: Fate was untouchable.

He sensed her need for help.

"I killed her."

It was the first time he said aloud what screamed from his breaths, his movements, his dreams, the walls, the air, the sun, the street, the people, the sky, the growing darkness. And he wanted to hide from them all, especially his own words that lingered in the air like heavy smoke. But before his hands had lifted, a foreign palm clasped his face in pointless fury, fingertips dipping in the soft flesh under his chin; as if she was pondering to crush his skull bare-handed. Her breathing audible from restrained tension, she moved closer and shifted his upper body, an arm sliding over his collarbone.

However, her grasp didn't get suffocating: instead of jerking him upwards, she slid her knees under his body; her arm was shaking weakly as she sobbed into his hair.

"She loved you." It was a voiceless, breathless statement.

He closed his eyes as the words clenched his heart, this redundant piece of muscle.

"She loved you, didn't she?"

His insides trembled from remembrance. Her grasp was now an embrace, she held his head gently on her chest, a hand reaching across for his shoulder while her silent tears kept rolling down onto his hair. She was holding him as a broken treasure of someone dear.

His hands covered his eyes tightly over her arm.

"Stop that," she voiced through the tears, as she knew what it meant.

When there was no response, she yelled.

"Stop!"

She pushed him away, but it didn't break the notion either. She reached over his shoulders from both sides and slid her thumbs under his palms, guiding them down. Her forehead rested against his back while she held onto his hands, her soaked voice lurking timidly under the flowing tears.

"I saw her in my dream-"

That was normal. He did, too…

And the hands were up again before she knew it, his breaths quickened.

"She's not here!" snapped she windsenshi, her voice hoarse from the pain of the truth in it.

He knew she was right, but his body refused to acknowledge it. Every cell in him confirmed that if he'd look up, he would see her like that night-

She yelled at him again.

"She's not here, you coward! Look at me!"

She knew his deranged illusion stayed reality until he opened his eyes, she knew he was aware of it, too. And still he kept shaking his head, like some stubborn young brat.

She clambered forward to face him, sliding her fingers around his wrists again, causing him to hiss a resistant answer and bend lower in defence; his fingers dug into his skin in an effort to keep them there. She didn't heed it, she forced his hands apart; he might have let it happen, but his eyes were shut tight when his hands lifted away, his breaths shallow.

"She was speaking to me," she said quietly, forcing the difficult words out of her heart. "You're hurting what's the most precious to her."

As she held his wrists in tight captivity, she could feel the unseen vibration tensing his body. His hands now clenched into fists, pressing against his forehead, as she wouldn't let them closer to his face.

"Look at me. Break that spell."

Her quiet demand took time reaching through, but she waited patiently. She had aeons of this pointless life to wait.

He held a breath while he opened his palms; when she released his wrists, he slid his fingers on her temple, pulling her closer. She kept her surprise in, because as she was secured before his eyes, he let the air out and looked up at her.

She allowed him to keep her like that as long as he needed to. They were taking even breaths now, their tattered bodies motionless, their looks resting against each other. The healing had begun.

- START -