Like a lot of my fics, especially Sailor Moon ones, this comes from various one-shots that were never written, and were subsequently pushed together to form a completely separate one. I have a few problems with this one, but over all I like it. I love the idea of a relationship between Seiya and Yaten: I can really see them together.


She shouldn't have liked her.

Seiya is someone who people like. She's pretty and smart and fairly nice, even if her ego is slightly larger than a normal person's. She'll listen and give advice. She's likeable and that's important.

Yaten, on the other hand, looks like someone you could get to like; beautiful and petite and totally unthreatening, until you speak to her, in which case that view of her is thrown out the window. She's bitchy and cynical and sarcastic, and not many people can put up with her for any given length of time. But Seiya can, and that's important.


They shouldn't have been friends.

Sometimes Yaten can see them asking, with their eyes, with their mouths: what does she find to like, in that cynical, bitter girl, who would rather send you off with a mocking remark that actually talk to you? But Seiya didn't mind that because Seiya knew her; had looked after her when she became homesick for a star that she had always hated; had cheered her up when someone (faceless and unimportant) had said something particularly hurtful, which may have been merited but not particularly deserved – especially when she was a Princess.

But they never saw, not with their minds so set on liking on and disliking the other, that Seiya always had a retort ready, and it was delivered with a wide grin, happy in their ritual of insults. And they never saw Yaten's rare smile, an awkward up quirk of lips that only her Princess and fellow senshi ever saw anyway.


She shouldn't have fallen in love.

Something changed as they left childhood and entered adolescence; a slight shift in feelings. Suddenly she found herself happy when Seiya was around, strangely jealous when she was laughing with someone else and reading too much into what the dark haired girl said. She would stay awake for hours, agonizing over their conversations, wishing she had said something different. There were even moments when she'd find herself staring, thinking things which disappeared when she became conscious of them.

But what did Yaten know of love? And so the things that had changed were frowned at and pushed to the back of her mind, forgotten until the next instance.


She shouldn't have been jealous.

When the one who called herself Galaxia attacked their planet, everything had changed. Their Princess had fled to Earth; the Starlights had followed and there Seiya had met a girl named Tsukino Usagi. Yaten wanted to hate her, but Usagi was kind and sweet and naive – and beautiful, in a way that Yaten could never be. It was warm – it filled a room and flooded your heart and she wasn't surprised that Seiya fell in love.

So unable to hate Usagi, Yaten hated Seiya for falling so fast. She hated Chiba Mamoru for leaving in the first place and she hated herself for being so jealous. The irrational irritation that she felt when she first saw them together morphed into a hideous anger: she wanted to scream and shout and slap Seiya, and pull out every one of Usagi's golden hairs, regardless of whether she hated her or not.

But then the war ended and Kakyuu and Mamoru returned and they went home. And then Yaten hated herself for being happy that Seiya was heartbroken.


She shouldn't have been miserable.

The trip to Earth brought at least one good thing to Yaten's life. Aino Minako, who she'd immediately brushed off as yet another groupie, turned out to be someone who could be trusted with her life, and soon became a friend and confidante.

When Seiya cried herself to sleep in her arms, it was Minako who she went to for comfort. When Seiya complimented her glowingly without knowing the consequences, it was Minako who shot down her hopes like was needed. When Seiya was bitchy and whiny, bitter in her loss, it was Minako who cheered her up with smiles and laughter. And when Seiya's feelings began to change, it was Minako, Goddess of Love, who noticed and didn't tell her.

Yaten never cries. She has in front of Seiya, when she was a child and lonely, and she would again in the future, but for now she doesn't cry, even when she's alone. She despises weakness. (She used to think Sailor Moon was weak, with her talk of love and faith and trust, but now she envies the strength she has with naivety). But that night she sobbed in Minako's arms, not caring who saw her.

The night Seiya kissed her, it was Minako she went to.


It shouldn't have happened like that.

One night, around two thousand years after Earth woke up, everything changed. "A date," Seiya asked for, and Yaten told her to stop joking – Seiya denied the joke. Yaten accused Taiki of putting her up to it – Taiki also denied it. Yaten became almost hysterical, yelling that it was a cruel and heartless trick and then Seiya had covered her mouth with her own. There were a few tense moments when Yaten did not know what had happened, and then Seiya had grinned and Yaten's heart had broken. She teleported to Earth.

Minako was alone when she burst into her room, and she collapsed into her surprised arms and sobbed the story out. Minako held her until well into the night, whispering soothing words into her ear, things Yaten didn't care about. Minako would understand, she knew, would keep Seiya away and would give her hell, and when she fell asleep she was suddenly glad that someone was there for her.

But when she woke it was Seiya who sat by her bed. Yaten screamed. She screamed louder when Seiya climbed onto the bed and tried to wrap her arms around her: she closed her eyes and covered her ears and screamed. She screamed until Serenity came in and, holding Yaten by the arm with one hand, pushed Seiya off the bed. Yaten became very quiet.

"Enough!" Serenity said loudly, glaring at a bemused Seiya. She pointed at her imperiously. "You need to explain yourself properly, because I don't blame her one bit for reacting like she has." She bent and embraced Yaten; wiped away her tears with a cool hand and a warm smile. "I'm so happy for you, Yaten-chan."

Seiya began to talk when Serenity left. Yaten could not hear her for the blood pounding in her ears. Instead she watched Seiya's lips move and felt something akin to hope.


She shouldn't have wanted it.

Three dates had gone by: the first was mediocre, the second good and the third atrocious. Yaten wanted nothing more than to go to bed and forget the entire thing – she hoped Seiya would too. Yet when Seiya invited her into her rooms 'for coffee', she found herself going. She lays her bag on the bed: Seiya starts kissing her.

It is perhaps telling of Yaten's inexperience that she did not suspect any ulterior motive. Sex, she'd always thought, was messy and sweaty and she would only ever do it with a certain person. Seiya, she knew, had experience, and plenty of it – how many times had she breezed into the room on a morning to find a pretty blonde – always blonde – in the bed?

That experience comes in handy. For Yaten, this is wrong and dirty and all she's ever wanted and all she's ever needed. This is Seiya and Yaten and them together. And later, when she's falling asleep, Seiya gives her a shy smile that she recognises as a plea but for what she does not know.

She wakes up slowly, Sieya's hands around her waist and head buried in the dark hair of her neck. She smells her hungrily. For the first time since she fell in love, she can breathe.


She shouldn't be happy.

Now her nights are with Seiya and her days are with Seiya. She lives with Seiya and she eats with Seiya and she breathes Seiya. Her world revolves around Seiya, just like it always has done, but now Seiya is close enough to touch.

But she is.