The truth was, she knew.
The moment the locket brushed against the tips of her fingers, the memories had burst from the back of her mind, riddled with yearning, heartache, and loss. She'd stared at the piece, horrified by the visions bubbling up from beneath the surface, afraid and suddenly very alone.
Luna had ordered her to take it, had yowled at the heavens in irritation that the moon warrior would be so spacey.
How was she supposed to react? Serenity had always wondered what it was like to be a warrior, to fight alongside her guard. It was a childish wish, something she would have dreamed of, but never tried in the past. She was scared. It was exhilarating.
As the others slowly merged together, Luna's initial disdain for her spread across the group. Part of her wished she'd said something. The cat's blind loyalty to a princess she couldn't remember was more of a comfort than recognition would have been though. The days blurred by, the Senshi had fallen in line, all displaying the same frustration, the same level of dislike at the thought of their "leader." It had been a wise decision to let them all wonder, as she had once. It was easy to live life as a princess, surrounded by an escort, loved by a prince. At least now, their real feelings were out in the open.
The thought forced an aching sob from her chest. The waves roared from below.
Endymion. In this life, he hated her. Those magnetic blue eyes, once so warm and sweet, were shuttered. In the beginning, she had been certain his taunts were playful and inviting. They seemed to have flirted and bantered as they had in the past, and the exchange was exciting and fun. She had hoped as things progressed that he would eventually open up, that the tension would turn sweet. How wrong she was.
She'd gone for a walk last week, just for some time away from the others. They laughed and joked together, but the constant jabs hurt more and more. In the midst of these thoughts, she happened to glance through a café window, and it all came crashing down–Mamoru, with his beautiful eyes latched to a girl across the table. The heart pulsed once, withered, and died in an instant, because she knew that look.
She knew.
The next time they spoke, she tried not to be hurt, to be angry. So many nights between had been spent sobbing, wondering what she'd done wrong. When his callous words came back, laced with hatred and cynicism, the mirage faded in an instant. He had once loved her, his princess, long ago. This life would be nothing close. The scathing remarks about her grades, her hair, and her voice became cruel in her mind. The memories she had once blushed and laughed over became a plague.
He loved someone else.
She wanted to say it didn't matter. The first drops of rain began to slide down her face, the thunder loomed closer from across the sea. A shudder racked the tiny form.
She knew. The girls had spent every moment harping on her for all the same reasons, her failures in life where Usagi could never be Serenity. The days and nights began to blur together, she no longer sought the comfort of her protector, knowing he would have nothing to do with her until the truth came out. The girls would continue to believe her a waste of life so long as they never knew who their precious princess really was.
Usagi was not Serenity.
The wood in her hand squeaked beneath the urgent pressure clenching her whole body together. The rain licked at her flesh.
As much as she loved her guard, their haughty, condescending eyes filled the moments between with self-loathing and fear. She was sent here to atone for the life she took on the moon, make things right between good and evil. How could she? The blundering, loud, and obnoxious girl that she was, how could she possibly fix something even her mother couldn't?
As their powers grew, so did the strength of the enemy. One night, so late it was nearly morning, her tears had burst like a star, and the crystal fell with a patter to the sheets. Even then, she could see the whispering lines of power being drawn from the stone toward the north–knew in that moment exactly why Beryl's forces seemed stronger.
She sobbed, clutching the item tightly in both fists, close to her heart. How could she hope to continue, fighting the demons spawned from a girl so much like herself? Now that Mamoru loved someone else, and Beryl drawing closer by the second, how could she not take action? How could she let it continue, knowing that the demon Metalia drew strength from her continued existence? Wouldn't it be more useful, kinder even, to finish the job alone?
The time was drawing too near. Soon, she would have to reveal herself to the others, and the story would shift and slide away. Their loyalty would become absolute, of that she was perfectly certain. All the wrong reasons. Would he remember? Did he want to?
He would never look at her that way again. Not without knowing.
It was so cold. Freezing rain flicked against her face and arms like tiny needles penetrating to the bone. She blinked the tears away, glanced down along the rocky cliff. The sea raged in hunger below, the glimmer of her weapon flashing in the coming storm. She shivered, staring down the jagged boulders, the pawing water. It was only fair.
The others would never know. They'd keep looking for their princess in the shadows, Beryl would slowly lose power, and Mamoru would...move on... It was better this way. Everything would be.
Her fists flinched apart, frozen by rain and cold. The wooden handle of her mother's carving knife was bent and broken where her fingers bit too hard. She had done it once before. They could keep their hope for the future if she could just find the strength again.
She was trembling. The sharp pain, the end of memories seemed like a refuge. Anything was better than this, watching her best friends hate her. Watching him. Her fingers tightened across the handle, drew the blade close to the flesh of her wrist. She tensed, knowing the bite would come the second her fist pulled down. It was the only way to be sure. The only way she would know.
Lightning flashed, and the thunder broke the scream to pieces. Blood and water mixed by her feet as the sting raged across her arm. The tears fell. Numb, aching, the fingers unclenched long enough to switch hands. This time, it was so much easier. The pain was sharp and fast, the scream not so loud. She shuddered still, felt the weightlessness of shock begin to set in.
Her feet shifted closer to the edge. She needed to make sure. The cliff was muddy and dark in the night. The waves below growled hungrily, lapping at the rocks to quench the thirst. She sobbed, nearly losing her grip on the weapon.
She'd done things right the first time. Her mother had been wrong to try and catch her soul, to send her here to the future where everything was so different. In a selfish move, the Queen had cursed them all with a spirit too broken, too damaged to ever make things right. She wished, again and again, that the memories had never come. It would be so much more bearable, understanding that some faceless perfection would lead their group to victory someday. Not Usagi.
She shifted closer to the edge, fingers barely able to hold her weapon close. The strength was leaving her. To wait another minute may be to seal her fate on the rocks, her last line of defense.
She had to be sure.
It was easy to lift the blade, to set the point against her chest where the space between ribs left a hollow. She'd done it before. His face burned in her skull, so filled with loathing, with hatred. Rather than focus on this, though, she pulled the memory of his last breath, of her shattered hope. Her prince died long ago, and the man who wore his image belonged to someone else: someone who made him happy, someone he could have a future with.
"Without him." The words felt crusted and old, something murmured from a dream. Her eyes clenched shut, head bowed low. The blade pulled.
"What the hell?" The dark voice, the sudden weight tearing at her arm ripped a strangled cry from the girl. Another hand tore the knife from her, his cursing spewed with every ounce of hate she'd ever heard from him. Her chest ached where the knife had slit, warm blood drizzled down her shirt.
Before the second hand could tear her back, she lunged toward the cliff, forcing every ounce of strength into her legs, prying his hand free. He wouldn't budge, and the pathetic attempt to finish what she'd begun died in a terrible sob. Her legs finally gave, one knee crumbling the ledge away while he fought. She wanted to scream.
"I said stop it! Usagi-chan!" With a heft, he all but lifted the sodden girl away, clutched her close as she shuddered and sobbed, hating him. Why? What had she done to deserve this? Wasn't it enough to realize, to come all the way out here, to plan? Couldn't fate just allow the inevitable to happen, let this one blaring mistake slip away without another word?
She coughed, felt the rain sizzle within her arms. He was crushing the wounds, forcing the magma-like pain so hard into her being that a scream no longer seemed sufficient. In a blessed moment of relief, the pressure eased just enough, her blood slick between them, that she slipped from his hands.
"Don't you," he began, but was too late as she fumbled for the sudden flicker of light in the grass. She could still get away. She could still finish it if only she could get away from him.
A firm grip snapped to her ankle, ripped back hard enough that the knife fled from her grasp. The cliffs backed away, a yard or more of space between her and peace. Exhaustion lapped at her frame. How long since she'd made the first cut? Her strength was ebbing into the grass in a sodden mess, her clothes tinged and face bloodied. She sobbed again, pressing her face to the ground and willing him to just leave her be.
He hated her anyway.
She was nothing to him.
"All this for some boy? What the fuck, Usagi! What are you thinking?" He was panting, pulling at her shoulder while she shuddered away.
If only he knew.
"Let go. Do the world a favor." The words fell from her mouth to the grass, too tired to raise herself up again. Her eyes were dim and cold. Her breath was growing weak. If only she could force her heart to beat harder, to empty the worthless sack of life and let her drift away.
Maybe they'd fight long enough that he wouldn't notice.
"Usagi-chan," he tried again, this time the anger melted. It burned. She burned. The pain in her arms, in her chest flared at the tone, knowing he only used it because he'd caught her. That agony seared to the bone, knowing all of this was a lie.
She'd seen him. To pretend there was more now seemed much cruel than even Mamoru could be. She knew that look, the way his eyes softened, the way his brows relaxed. Endymion had saved it only for her in the past: his refuge from the terrible weight of responsibility. Mamoru would never know that. He could go on his stupid dates and never remember her.
The Odango, the idiot who thought maybe someone could care. Usagi was worthless. He knew that. He could see the truth where others saw only the façade.
"Don't be like this, Odango Atema." His voice drove the wedge deeper, made her ache for the bite of steel instead. Anything was better than to feel that hopeless love tear through her.
If only the earth would open up beneath her. If only he'd look away. Her face burned with shame: for wanting him, for the numb ache throbbing in her fingers. She coughed, face spattered in mud and worse.
Just leave. Just go.
"Please, let me see." Thunder boomed, shredded the words to pieces. It didn't matter. The insistent tug on her arm felt so far away. It was so dark outside, even the bright flashes of lightening seemed to come through a haze. She tried to shift, to do anything as he pulled again. It didn't matter. They'd fought long enough, it seemed.
