BEHIND THE MASK

Chapter 2: "Transitions"

A Sailor Moon fanfic

By Bill K.

The cheers echoing through the auditorium could still be heard down the hall from the stage. Minako Aino took a towel offered her by one of the back stage crew and gave her a grateful nod. Several more members of the crew murmured words of praise as they moved to strike the set and pack it for the next date. Minako's road manager and make-up artist escorted her partially to her dressing room, telling her how well the show had gone. She didn't have to hear it from them, though. The cheers still echoing down the hall were enough.

Minako had done a full set and two encores. Physically, she was spent. But it was a good feeling. She felt like she'd given her all to entertain the people who had paid to see her. They, in turn, had showered her with such adoration that she was only now coming down from the 'high'. This is what it was all about. This made the years of dreaming, of practice, of lessons, of singing in Yakuza dives, of posing for cheesecake pictures, of smiling and posing in front of merchandise until her jaw hurt and her back was stiff, of taking any role offered no matter how humiliating it might seem, this made it all worth it. If she could do this for the next thousand years, she would be happy.

"Yeah, like you're going to live to be a thousand," Minako chuckled to herself.

A man in the phalanx of people caught her eye suddenly and Minako turned to get a closer look. His back was to her now, but Minako could see him clearly for a few seconds. The shoulder-length blond hair, the tall sturdy frame that radiated masculinity - - was it him?

"Couldn't be," Minako thought, turning back as he disappeared into the crowd. "Aw, who are you kidding? Of course it could be him. It's just the kind of stunt he'd pull." As she reached her dressing room door, Minako grew resolute. "Well, he's not going to ruin things. I'm happy. I've got everything I could want. And it doesn't include him."

Inside her dressing room, Minako sat down at her makeup table and pulled out a cosmetic pad and a cell phone. Pressing out a number with one hand while she dabbed makeup away from her face with the other, Minako brought the phone to her ear. After three rings, she got the answering machine.

"Toshi?" Minako inquired hopefully. "Toshi, it's Minako. Pick up, huh?" Nothing. "Artemis, you there?"

Just as she was about to give up, the phone connected.

"Minako, how you doing?" she heard Artemis inquire. "What city are you in tonight?"

"Sapporo," Minako smiled. "Artemis, I killed here! I've been killing the whole tour!"

"Well, given your album sales and the popularity of the show, are you surprised?

"Well, if I say 'no', you'll accuse me of being an egomaniac," Minako retorted. "And if I say 'yes', you'll know I'm lying." That drew a chuckle from the white cat and made Minako even happier. "Is Toshi out?"

"Yes. He's got a meeting with the sponsor and the production staff. They're trying to get geared up for the new season. He's been working like a dog - - pardon the expression - - the whole time you've been gone."

"Figures he wouldn't say anything," Minako mused quietly. "Is the gang OK?"

"Well, Usagi's fretting about her father being out of work," Artemis related. "It's been a month now and he still hasn't found anything. Luna says she feels sorry for her and at the same time Usagi's driving her up a wall. Otherwise, everything's normal - - which is a good thing."

"Got that right," Minako replied. "Well - - tell Toshi that I love him and I miss him."

"What about me?" Artemis asked.

"I've got my fuzzy slippers," Minako replied with a devilish lilt to her voice. "I don't need you."

"Yeah?" Artemis retorted. "Well, I love your CD. They make great coasters."

"Bye, Fuzzy," Minako grinned. "Call you when I get in to Hokkaido tomorrow." The woman folded her cell phone and put it away. Then she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe her life wasn't quite perfect. She still hadn't figured out how to tour and take her family and friends with her.


The blue Fiat sports car pulled into the driveway, a remarkable car in an otherwise unremarkable neighborhood in residential Tokyo. From inside the car, the driver signaled the garage door to open and expertly pulled inside, closing the door once inside. Only then did the driver emerge.

Despite her fatigue, Haruka looked around the garage to make sure there wasn't anything jutting out or hanging loose, something that might possibly hurt her baby. Once assured, she patted the car hood lovingly, then picked up her suitcase and headed for the house the garage was connected to. Every fiber in her body was drained by the flight to and from Sao Paolo, Brazil, and the Grande Premio do Brasil, and by the fact that she'd finished seventh. It didn't help that the seventh place finish had cost her just enough points to keep her from defending her 2006 Formula 1 points championship.

After winning the Fuji Television Grand Prix just last month, everyone thought she had the points standings sewn up. But a poor finish due to engine trouble in Shanghai had brought her back to the pack. Now this. All through the flight she'd dissected her race to find where she could have moved differently and won. By the time she'd reached Tokyo, the realization that it just wasn't to be had taken root. It was disappointing, but a second in the points standings after winning the previous year did serve to solidify her standing as one of the top Formula 1 drivers in the world, and the top female driver of all time. It was something.

"Babe," she called out breathlessly, letting the suitcase drop. She was more tired than she realized. "I'm home."

"Haruka," Michiru said softly, appearing suddenly in the kitchen. She glided over and the two women molded themselves to each other, kissing with relief of solitude's end. She pulled back and looked up at her mate sympathetically. "I'm sorry you didn't win."

"That's what can happen in a close race," Haruka shrugged. "One bad pit can really cost you." They walked arm in arm into the living room. Haruka oozed into the sofa and Michiru curled up next to her. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

Michiru paused just a beat, silently contemplating how to respond. Haruka noticed it immediately, even through her fatigue, but didn't press. Finally Michiru uncurled, reached over to a table by the sofa and picked up a letter.

"Read this," she said softly, ominously, as she handed Haruka the letter. Piqued, and just a bit wary, the racer pulled the letter out of its envelope. The return address, she noted, was Sony Media.

"Sorry if I seem dumb," Haruka began after scanning the letter, "but I think it says Sony is dropping you?"

"You're right," Michiru scowled, eyes down. "Sales are down industry-wide and a lot of companies in the music business are cutting back on their output. That means artists are being dropped." Michiru just stared for a moment. "And I'm one of the ones."

"You'll find another label," Haruka offered.

"I don't know," Michiru replied and Haruka heard the faintest waver in her voice. "I've always been a niche artist in recording. I've put out six CDs and the sales on all six together don't equal what Minako sold on her last CD alone. She's what the labels are looking for. I don't think I could interest another label even if I did sell out and go commercial - - which I'm not going to do."

"Well," Haruka began, pulling Michiru in tighter, "you could always retire and become my personal sex therapist."

Michiru scowled to keep from grinning. "As fulfilling as that might be, I don't know how much that would do to fulfill my needs as an artist."

"I don't know," Haruka continued. "I remember some times in bed when you got pretty creative."

"I can see you're going to be no help," Michiru glanced sideways.

"Look," Haruka said, pulling her tighter. "You've still got your painting and your photography. And you've got more money than you know what to do with now."

"Unless you decide to buy another car," Michiru interjected wryly.

"Book a few concert dates if you feel like it. You've still got fans. Press your own CDs and sell them at the concert. Or give 'em away if you want. Otherwise, you can play for me if you don't want to perform on stage. It's not the end of the world."

"No, it's not," Michiru said, her head pressed against Haruka's breast. "It's just wounded pride. We artists can't stand rejection, even though we court it so actively. I'll be OK." She perked up. "Hey, maybe we can tour a few cities this winter. I can write a few new pieces and you could accompany me on piano?"

At that moment, the phone rang, cutting off Haruka's response. She reached over and brought the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked and immediately got an angry response. It was so loud Michiru heard it. "Who is . . .Mom? What are you yelling about? What's my fault? Mom, would you get a grip! What's wrong?" As Michiru stared with concern, Haruka listened for a few moments. "Is she there now? Mom, you can't keep . . .!"

Haruka pulled away and stared angrily at the now disconnected phone. Then she hung it up and bolted from the sofa.

"Haruka, what is it?" Michiru asked, scrambling after her.

"It's Junko!" Haruka spat, grabbing her jacket. "Something's happened!"


Coral eyes floated in the darkness, the only trace of something living. The eyes levitated along a path from the Chiba living room to the kitchen. There, illumination from the open refrigerator put a body with the coral eyes. Luna came to a stop and watched the nocturnal traveler for a few moments.

"Does your stomach never rest?" Luna asked acidly. Usagi straightened up with a start and the carton of milk slipped from her fingers, splattering onto the floor.

"Luna, don't DO THAT!" Usagi hissed, glaring wide-eyed at the little black cat. It may have been the shadows on her face, but it almost looked like Luna seemed smug. "Now look what you made me do!"

"There, there, Usagi," Luna cautioned her as Usagi went for a towel. "No use crying over spilled milk."

"You think you're SO smart!" the woman grumbled, on her knees wiping up the milk.

"Well it's your own fault for being up this late," Luna countered. "Although I must say it must have certainly been quite the hunger attack to wake YOU from sleep. I've known air raids that couldn't accomplish that."

Glancing up at Usagi, illuminated by the single bulb in the refrigerator, the cat saw an expression she hadn't expected.

"Usagi?" Luna inquired.

"I couldn't sleep," Usagi whispered.

"Is something worrying you? It's not your father, is it?"

"It's been a month now, Luna, and he still can't find another job," Usagi related. "He seemed so discouraged this afternoon when I talked to him."

"A person of his experience and qualifications?"

"He says the publishing industry is contracting," Usagi explained. "There aren't as many newspapers and magazines as there used to be. And they've all got people with just as much experience and stuff as he has. He's even begun to think he'll have to start over again."

"If it comes to that, I'm certain he'll be a success," Luna offered.

"But Luna, he loves being a photographer and photo editor," Usagi argued. "If he has to start over doing something else, I don't know if he'll be happy. And if he has to start over again at the bottom as a photographer," and Usagi looked down. "Well, I don't know if his pride could stand it. Daddy's always been so proud of his life - - proud of being married to Mom, proud of me and Shingo, and proud of what he's accomplished. And to lose that and have to start over - - I just don't know how that will affect him." She was silent for a few moments. "And it would certainly be less money."

"Usagi," Luna said, speaking firmly and distinctly so as to attract and keep her friend's attention, "there are times when we must do what we must, whether they are distasteful or not, in order to survive and progress. Your father is a very sterling man with good character and a good sense of values. He will make the decision he feels is best for his family and his situation. And you must support his decision. And you must give him all the help he needs and all the support and belief he deserves. But the one thing you mustn't do is surrender to fear and worry."

"I won't," Usagi squeaked.

"Usagi, you're sitting in the middle of your kitchen floor at midnight," Luna replied. "I dare say that puts your statement into the realm of falsehood."

"Well, I guess it's easier for you," groused Usagi. She got to her feet. "I wish there was some way I could help Daddy."

"I'm certain that when the opportunity presents itself, you'll seize it," Luna told her. Usagi stuck her head back into the refrigerator. "What are you doing now?"

"Well, as long as I'm up, I might as well eat something," Usagi shrugged.

"Incorrigible," fussed Luna. Then she paused and grew an almost guilty look. "Well, as long as you're in there, bring out some of that left over chicken. No sense in you eating alone."


Haruka double-parked the Fiat and leaped out, racing up to the house where the Tenoh family lived. By the time Michiru had extricated herself from the blue sports car, Haruka had already pressed the bell and was pounding on the door. Michiru saw the door open. Haruka's mother, Himeko, met Haruka, and Michiru could see it wasn't a pleasant occurrence for either of them.

"You have some nerve coming here," Himeko growled, her tiny face pinched up.

"What happened to Junko?" Haruka demanded.

"Why? Why do you want to know? So you can get her at an emotionally vulnerable time and lure her over to your way? It's your fault this happened!"

"I don't even know what happened! How can it be my fault?" roared Haruka.

"She was living a wonderful life until YOU showed up!" Himeko spat. "Things only started to go wrong . . .!" Himeko stopped when she felt hands on her shoulders. They both looked and found Gert behind her. Gert had lost even more weight than the last time Haruka had seen him. His face, though, was still red and blustery from his Swiss-German ancestry.

"Now Mama, let's don't cause a scene for the neighbors," Gert cautioned her gently. Himeko immediately relented, but her eyes still blazed with anger. He looked at Haruka and she could tell he wasn't pleased to see her, either. "I let you into my home, Haruka, because Junko likes and respects you, and perhaps you can do something for her. Please do not abuse this invitation."

"Gert!" Himeko gasped.

"They can talk over the kitchen table, Mama," Gert told her. "It will be all right." He turned to the steps. "Junko! Haruka is here to see you!"

Haruka turned to Michiru, waiting out by the sidewalk.

"I'll park the car," she told Haruka, communicating her support, "and wait for you."

Haruka turned back and stepped inside. Junko was coming down the steps from the second floor and she was sporting a nasty bruise under her left eye. Her sister's eyes flared and Junko grew embarrassed.

"You two can talk in the kitchen," Gert advised Junko. Then he herded Himeko away. The two sisters went into the kitchen and sat down, Haruka's eyes on Junko the entire time. Junko flopped into a chair, her face turning to obscure her black eye. Haruka took a seat across from her.

"What happened to your eye?" Haruka asked bluntly.

"Mom call you?" Junko asked, her mortification a thing alive.

"Yeah. What happened to your eye?" Haruka repeated. Junko sat there for a few moments, scowling. She didn't seem to want to answer.

"I got into a fight," Junko said finally.

"Some girl jump you in the restroom at school?"

Junko looked down. "With Aki."

"Aki? Who's - - wait a minute! That boy you're going out with?"

"Yeah," Junko replied, a sour taste in her mouth. "We were arguing. He didn't like me studying with Kenichi-sempai in the library. Things got out of hand," and Junko paused to quell her own welling anger, "and he hit me."

Now Haruka took a moment to quell her rising anger.

"Did you hit him back?" Haruka asked. Junko looked up at her, surprised by the response. "You're right. It wouldn't have been civilized."

"Well, I've thought about it for the last few hours," Junko replied ruefully.

"You want me to pay him a visit?" Haruka asked. Junko looked up at her again and the surprise and horror on her face caught the woman off guard.

"No!" she exclaimed. Then Junko got rein of her reactions. "No, that's not necessary. I broke up with him. Aki's part of the past. One of those 'lessons' you learn the hard way."

Haruka emitted a sigh and leaned in. "Sorry you had to learn it that way. Life seems to wait until you least expect it and then smacks you in the mouth. This is probably one of those times. There are people out there who, well, don't mix well with other people. You can feel sorry for them, but a lot of times you're just wasting your time. You're better off without him."

"Yeah," Junko whispered.

"You going to be OK?"

"Aside from my eye?" Junko peeked up, the corners of her mouth turning up. "I suppose. We Tenohs are suppose to be able to take it. This is nothing compared to some of the stuff you've had to go through. I'll make it." She smirked wickedly. "It's not going to put me off of boys, though."

"Your loss," Haruka smirked back. "My weekends are free again. You want to do something next Sunday?"

"Sure. I suddenly have a free calendar," Junko quipped. "I'll call you."

Haruka nodded and got up to go. In the hall by the door, though, Gert met her.

"Thank you for helping her," he said uncomfortably.

"Thank you for letting me help her," Haruka replied.

"I know you, Haruka. Junko respects and admires you. Don't do something that would make her question that faith, eh?"

Haruka allowed herself a small laugh and left. Outside, she searched the street until she spotted Michiru waving from down the block.

"What happened?" Michiru asked as they got into the Fiat.

"Tell you on the way home," Haruka said. Then, impulsively, she reached over and grasped Michiru's hand. "Michiru, if I ever do anything to hurt you - - PLEASE kick my ass."

Her surprise slowly morphed into amusement. "All right," Michiru replied indulgently. And the two sped off.

Continued in Chapter 3