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So, you've made it to this chapter . . . maybe that means you like it! Or maybe it just means you want to know just exactly what tortures I've inflicted on poor Pluto/Setsuna, so that you can take them all out on my poor little self . . .

Anyway! Tenchi Universe is *not* mine. (Aww.) Tenchi character shows up for the first time in this chapter! (Yay!) Sailormoon is not mine either. (Aww.) Setsuna with blue-green eyes is, however, purely my own invention . . . I had to have *some* way to tell them apart! (Yay! Uh . . . oops . . . oh well, whatever.)


A small young woman with short blue hair–shoulder length or so, she had meant to cut it, but had never gotten around to doing so–had been walking by the park when the cry of anguish rang through it. Why was she walking by the park, some might ask? Most would assume she was out for an early evening stroll. Clearing her head before beginning on that night's homework.

Those people didn't know this particular young woman, to think she had not yet finished her homework. She was actually, most likely, at least three days ahead as far as homework was concerned. But she was not just intelligent, that could be told by the casual way she walked at a speed that would have most people breathing hard within a relatively short period of time. That much she had learned from her other life. A life she spent fighting as part of a team, against monsters, demons, sent by evil forces bent on conquering or utterly destroying the planet. Or perhaps the solar system or the rest of the galaxy as well.

So why was she out walking? She was patrolling, something they–she and the rest of her team–did on a regular basis, whenever they had spare time and nothing better to do. Sure, when they patrolled in groups, they usually ended up the malls, but . . . allowances should be made. Superheroines they might be, but they were also teenage girls in addition to that.

The cry did not sound to her like one provoked by the attack of a youma, so she did not call the others, not yet. If, indeed, there was a youma, she could call quickly enough. Still, she hurried towards the sound, because it sounded to her like someone in need of help. And, sweet person she was, when there was help she was capable of giving, she would give it.

* * *

Whatever she expected, though, she did not expect what she found. A distraught person, yes, but also one close to her. A friend, and a part of the team. She stopped, in shock at the sight. Setsuna was one of the most contained, unflappable people she knew. Anything that hit her this hard . . . well, Ami wouldn't have been surprised if someone had announced that the universe was about to implode any second now. She might–make that probably–would even have believed them.

Not knowing what to do, she hugged the older girl, feeling woefully inadequate as Setsuna latched onto her and continued to cry herself out. All she could do was hope the tears would end soon–hopefully before the cataclysm that would be coming imminently arrived.

Finally, the other young woman's sobs slowed and ceased, into the slow rhythm of exhausted sleep. Ami shook her head, a small smile on her face. It couldn't be that bad, if Setsuna could go on to sleep. Now all she had to do was get the other girl home soon–although Haruka and Michiru wouldn't worry too much, since Setsuna seemed to enjoy disappearing, and reappearing unexpectedly.

Mercury Crystal Power, Make Up! Ami knew she wasn't strong enough to carry Setsuna for very long herself, but Mercury could do it. And she could roof-hop, in addition. That was a definite plus.

As she picked up her green-haired friend, she noticed a beautiful golden necklace with a stylized tree on it, one she had never seen before.

Another question to wonder about, until the other girl woke up.

* * *

Mercury paused as she came up to the house the four Outer senshi shared, and detransformed. Awkwardly carrying her burden–which suddenly seemed a great deal heavier–she reached up and rang the doorbell. Absently, she noticed what she hadn't before–that Setsuna's left wrist was bent at an unnatural angle, the way only broken bones did. That, and she had a large bruise across her midriff, although it looked like no ribs were cracked.

Ami shuddered. She had no interest in finding out what would be able to do *that* to the seemingly invincible senshi of time. The door opened–Michiru. The teal-haired girl looked down at Setsuna, eyes slightly widened. That's a new one. Come on in, Ami.

With Michiru leading the way, Ami brought Setsuna into her room and laid her down gently on the bed.

What happened? Michiru asked with concern, her sharp eyes having also marked the broken wrist and large bruise across the other's lower torso.

I don't know. Ami answered honestly, as they closed the door quietly. I was patrolling the park when I heard an anguished scream. When I got there . . . she was kneeling, crying her eyes out, keening, and generally being the most emotional I have ever seen her. She was beating her hands against the ground too– Wince. –in spite of one of them being broken.

Michiru summed up the projected situation in precisely the words Ami would have used. Bad. Very bad. Slight smile. Or, as Haruka would say, We are in deep shit.'

Ami grinned in spite of herself. That did sound like the way the impulsive blonde racer would summarize their situation.

Really? And why would I say that? The blonde in question asked from the doorway, entering the room. Hello Ami, what brings you here?

I brought Setsuna home. I found her crying in the park. With a broken wrist and a huge bruise visible.

I think you hit it on the nose, Michiru. We are in *very* deep shit. Haruka replied. As if those phages are not enough trouble already!

In addition to whoever is directing them. A new voice added softly. So, what's this new trouble you three are worrying about?

The three turned.

A hint of amusement was added to the green-haired senshi's calm facade. Do I have mud on my face?

Ami stood, looking intently at her. Wow. I didn't know that even *you* could heal a broken wrist that quickly! Especially since I haven't set it yet.

Raised eyebrow. What broken wrist? I wasn't aware I had one.

But if you're you . . . Michiru started.

Then who did I bring here? Ami ended.

Both eyebrows raised. An imposter? Interesting. Why don't we go see this . . . me . . . now. A suggestion, it carried the tone of a command.

* * *

The four gathered around Setsuna's bed, around the person within it who looked exactly like Setsuna.

Ami looked from one to the other. The resemblance is uncanny. Could she be the Sailor Pluto from an alternate dimension? If so, they might not have to worry about just the universe collapsing . . . but perhaps something as horrific as the entire multiverse. Assuming, that is, that her theory on alternate dimensions was a true one. It felt right . . . but there wasn't any solid proof.

Setsuna sighed lightly. That would be my guess too . . . except that there is no excessive amount of temporal anomalies surrounding her . . . this is her home dimension as surely as it is mine, or any of ours. She cocked her head to one side, slightly. You might want to set that wrist before she wakes up. As you observed, even *I* can't heal something like a broken bone that quickly. Her eyes caught, as Ami's had earlier, on the thin golden necklace. What on earth is that?

Shrug. I was hoping you . . . well, actually she now, it turns out, could explain it. It doesn't look like any of the jewelry I've ever seen you wear.

It's not. Setsuna's voice was firm. I've never seen anything like it before in my life.

It was a gift from myself. A new voice said softly, still weighed down with incredible sorrow. In hopes that it would bring back memories of a time that I can no longer remember. Her eyes still closed, the stranger brought her free hand up to wrap itself around the necklace, firmly but gently. I hoped I'd be able to regain some memories because of it . . . it's the only clue I have anymore. Her head turned slightly, and she opened her eyes. Thank you for setting my wrist, Ami.

Who are you? Setsuna asked, blue-green eyes intent on the answer.

For so long, for forever it seemed, she had thought of herself as just that. Human interactions were left to Setsuna, while she stayed in the background and watched. Except . . . Setsuna was gone now. She bowed her head, desperately fighting against even more tears, tears that slid down her face in spite of herself. Setsuna would be laughing at me now. She always claimed that I'm still not emotional enough . . . but she'd be laughing now. Setsuna . . .

The other four watched as Pluto curled in on herself. It's not fair. A soft voice, a broken voice. She should have been the one to remain. She understands how to interact with people. I can't, I've never had enough practice . . . I always let her deal with people . . . why couldn't I be the one to dissipate? Or whatever it was she did.

Who's Ami asked softly.

Setsuna. My other half. Pluto straightened somewhat. The first time I saw her, I tried to obliterate her. I saw her as a necessary cover, giving me a human identity in case I ever needed one. But she fought back . . . she probably could have obliterated *me* but she didn't. She wouldn't have wanted to. Reminiscent smile. Then, a turn to Setsuna, with a widening of the eyes. What am I saying? We never told any of this, even to our own fellow senshi. You had no trouble reintegrating, I bet. Show me the Time Staff. An order, snapped out with a slightly wild look beginning to creep into her eyes.



If I am to trust you, I must know, and this is the best way for me to find out. Pluto's face, originally so open, had closed off. Not the habitual mask of indifference through which some emotion still slipped that their Setsuna used, but a true closing, a block between herself and everything else.

Setsuna brought out her staff with a flash of light, and Pluto stood and walked closer. Don't worry, I don't need to touch it. She reassured her almost-double. She brought her free hand close to the tip of the staff, on which the Garnet Orb rested, and it began to emit a dim reddish light. Hand falling back to her side, she nodded. It's the real thing.

Collapsing back to a seated position on the bed, she smiled wearily. I had to be absolutely sure. You have the bitch's eyes–but only in color. In substance, your eyes are more like . . . Setsuna's were.

Eyebrows raised around the circle. Sure, with her slightly disconcerting red eyes open, Pluto didn't look quite as much like Setsuna . . . but the resemblance was enough that they were all rather surprised to hear cursing coming from her mouth. The bitch? Large question mark.

My so-called mother. A very strong emotion had taken over Pluto's face. Hatred. The one who taught me that any emotion was a weakness to be eliminated, that all traces of humanity within myself should be purged. Bitter laugh. I remember now . . . I objected to allowing the fall of the Silver Millennium purely because it seemed so inefficient. Sigh, as a look of reminiscence entered her eyes. It took my better half to finally beat into me the idea that emotions are worth experiencing. Her, and you two, her eyes sought out Haruka and Michiru, and most of all Hotaru. I think the first time we thought exactly the same thought, at exactly the same time, was when she was killed.

Instant exclamation from all four. Hotaru dies?!

Oops.

* * *

I don't understand why you haven't tried to neutralize me somehow. At least by sending me back to my home dimension. I must represent an incredibly large temporal anomaly. Pluto frowned at Setsuna, trying to figure out this newest puzzle.

Setsuna worried at her lower lip. But you don't. As far as I can tell, this is as much your home dimension, and your home time within this dimension, as it is mine. Or any of my fellow senshi. Sigh. And that makes it a great deal harder. You remember, I assume, how much power it took to craft the time key that allowed Chibiusa to come back to the past.

Silent nod. And that was just sending someone out of their proper *time*! Dimensional transportation is *exponentially* harder. Well, not if you're sending someone back where they belong . . . but as far as I can tell, as far as the Time Stream cares, you belong here. Even if I had the *power* to send you back, I wouldn't have the necessary skill. Perhaps my self during the Crystal Millennium, but certainly not now.

It is true, I have the skill. A third soft voice, a sudden third green-haired presence in the room. A second presence with blue-green eyes. But I still lack the necessary power. Even were I to link with you, her eyes sought out Pluto, our combined power would not be enough. I'm sorry. She turned and left, as quietly and unobrusively as she had come.

I'm sorry too, Pluto.

It's not your fault. Sigh. If anyone, the fault rests with the bitch. Stealing me away from my home dimension, not to mention whatever parents and siblings I might have had. Growl. I *will* find my way back somehow. If only for the pleasure of kicking her into next Tuesday.

* * *

Hey Pluto–you know, you really need a better name than that. Whatever Haruka had first meant to say, she became sidetracked as quickly as that.

She's right. Michiru, although fully dressed, was still towelling her hair dry from a recent shower. So . . . you ever had another name? Other than Setsuna, that is?

A touch to the tree, and thoughtful silence. Call me Midori. It's as good a name as any, and a great deal better than most.

Okay. So anyway . . . Midori. Feel like going out tonight? Star Healer and I are going out patrolling, but you could come with us if you wanted. Haruka offered.

Pluto . . . Midori . . . accepted quietly, although the implications floored her. *She* knew the Starlights were good, that the Outers' insistance that anything coming from outside of the solar system–including her own, although she hated to admit it–was suspicious had been proven wrong. But they didn't even know that Galaxia existed yet, so how could they know?

Just then a knock came at the door, and Haruka smiled. That must be him now. She walked over to the door and opened it. Come on in, Yaten.

And as the smirking silver-haired young man/super heroine entered the house, Midori shook her head the slightest bit. This, if not anything else–including her almost-double's existence–proved beyond any doubt that she was in an entirely different dimension.

'Lo, Setsuna. Not too often that we see the inscrutable senshi of time just hanging out here. You're usually too busy, with one thing or another. So, what horrific calamity is happening now? Casual address, joking around, meant s/he was on friendly terms with Setsuna . . . and so almost certainly with all the rest of their team.

Well, Setsuna–her other half–had been able to play this game along with the best of them. And she had always been waiting in the back of Setsuna's mind, an unseen watcher of all that went on.

Turn around first. Let the boy get the full impact of the red eyes and the broken wrist. Prop chin in right hand and stare for all she was worth. Nice to see you too, Yaten. Oh by the way, I'm Setsuna's analog from an alternate dimension. You can call me Midori, to keep the confusion levels down.

Facefault. You call that keeping the confusion levels down?

Shrug. Sure, why not? If it has blue-green eyes, you call it Setsuna. If it has red eyes, you call it Midori. Couldn't be simpler. I'll be coming along with the two of you tonight. Haruka's idea.

Yaten looked from Midori to Haruka and back again. Shrug. If you say so. Well, shall we go?

* * *

Evidently, you're not nearly as xenophobic in this dimension as we were. Midori remarked, in answer to a question about the differences between her life and this one. We were always highly suspicious of you Starlights, She nodded to Yaten cordially, Because you came from outside the solar system, through the boundary we were supposed to be guarding, and we couldn't be sure whether you were friend or foe.

Haruka and Yaten both shook their heads sadly. What a difference. Even during the Silver Millennium, we had cordial relations with quite a few other planets, galactic empires, and other sorts of things. Of course, we lost contact with Kinmoku around the fall of the Silver Millennium, but that's understandable. We lost contact with the rest of our allies as well. Haruka commented.

Yaten looked up. I think . . . I heard something about . . . Jurai I think it was. He sounded doubtful. That they had re-established contact with Earth. But I don't think we ever figured out where their base of operations was.

A brilliant flash of golden light caused all three to turn their heads. Sailor Iron Mouse. Yaten said.

A phage. Haruka stated in the same moment. Both would be right, of course.

Galaxia. Midori thought, but did not say. If they did not know yet, they would know soon enough. And she would not be the one to tell them.

Healer Star Power, Make Up!

Uranus Crystal Power, Make Up!

Pluto Crystal Power, Make Up! They shouted, they transformed, as they ran towards where they had seen the light coming from. Or rather, two of them transformed. Soon, Sailor Star Healer and Super Sailor Uranus ran alongside Midori, but she remained the same. So. Only one Sailor Pluto can exist at a time. I suppose I'm not really surprised. But she was disappointed, although she tried to suppress that feeling. The feeling of uselessness.

A figure rose from its kneeling position as its star seed shriveled into blackness–as all star seeds, except those of senshi, did. Sailor Laser! It proclaimed loudly. It resembled a fighter robot straight out of a sci-fi movie–humanoid but made out of plates of metal, with a large gun in its hands. Seeing the phage, Midori remembered . . . and she realized there *was* something she could do, after all. Go on ahead! I'll call the others! I hope my communicator still works, at least.

Uranus nodded. World Shaking!

Star Sensitive Inferno!

*click* We've got a phage here! We need Eternal Sailor Moon.

Who are you? And how did you get a communicator? Usagi's face popped up on the screen.

No time. Uranus and Star Healer are going to need your help, soon. I'll explain la– a stray laser beam, while miraculously not doing any more than singeing the tips of Midori's fingers, completely vaporized the top half of the communicator. She sighed, dropping the now-useless other half. Oh well.

Midori turned and examined the metal monstrosity. Finally, she nodded. I may not be able to transform anymore, but I can still do something. She looked down at her bound left hand, unwrapping the bandages carefully and dropping them to the ground. Experimentally, she flexed her wrist, making her hand into a fist and releasing. She nodded. It's good as new. Well, almost. At least my swift healing abilities have not abandoned me yet.

With a small smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes, Midori took a deep breath. Sailor Laser, PREPARE TO DIE! And threw herself at the robotic phage. I've always wanted to say that . . . and it's at least as fun as I expected it to be. She flipped over the first laser it sent her way and just dodged the second, coming close to deliver a kick to its face. At least she could keep it occupied until Eternal Sailor Moon got there.

But then, as her foot came into range, the phage's hand came up–impossibly fast–and grabbed her foot, throwing her around into a nearby tree. She came up spitting leaves. That had hurt! Now, the phage was really going to pay . . .

And again, the phage intercepted her. The pattern continued, Uranus and Star Healer helpless to do anything but watch, as Midori threw herself at the phage, was caught, got thrown into a tree or a wall or the ground, only to get up again. She's snapped. The pressure just got to her. Uranus sadly summarized.

Star Healer was watching with astonishment. I thought you said her wrist was broken. Which one?

Baka, it should be obvious. The one with the . . . bandages?! Uranus, too, now saw what Star Healer had seen. That's insane! No one can heal that fast!

*Wham!* Midori slammed into a nearby tree. She picked herself up with a grimace of pain and a grin of enjoyment. I could heal even faster when I had Setsuna's help. But it's just me now, so it takes me a little longer. She brushed hair out of her garnet eyes, glowing with the light of battle. I'd suggest you join me, but there wouldn't be much point in summoning Eternal Sailor Moon if the phage dies before she gets here. I'm only human, so I won't cause nearly enough damage. She suppressed a wince, hoping the other two hadn't seen. I hope she gets here soon, though. Much more tree-slamming, and I might end my life as a paraplegic. And that is *not* on my list of life goals.

With a running jump, she flipped over the head of the phage, kicking it in the back of the neck on her way down. *Wham!* And became intimately acquainted with yet another tree. I don't want to worry them . . . but I probably won't last much longer like this. With a sad smile, she used the trunk of the tree to drag herself upright. Ah, well. There are worse ways of dying than going out fighting. My only regret is that I didn't get a chance to kick my so-called mother's rear end into a black hole somewhere.

Unable to summon up the effort anymore, she slid back down into a sitting position. At least ten of my vertebrae are knocked out of line . . . nothing that has cut the spinal column yet, so I guess I'm lucky. That's two . . . three broken ribs. I think I broke my wrist again, too–I should have given it just a little bit longer to heal before abusing it again like this. And maybe a leg. She looked up over towards the phage, who was preparing one last laser blast. Without advanced medical care, I don't think even I can heal myself fast enough. Well enough. It's been fun, though, however short a time it's lasted.

She began to close her eyes, when a red glow caught her attention. With a truly happy smile, she reached out a shaking hand to the Garnet Orb, which had come into being in front of her. To guard her. There is nothing you can do now. She addressed the talisman. Not even you.

Then the blast. The blast which, aimed directly at Midori, struck her Garnet Orb instead. The Garnet Orb has never been any stranger to power, but this was not a type of power it was equipped to handle. So it transmuted the power to a form it could handle–temporal energy–with the aid of . . . something . . . that it drew from the being of the girl it guarded, and was a part of.

The area around the beaten girl and her talisman rippled, as the excess of temporal energy ripped a hole in space/time. And throught the hole the girl fell, a wry smile on her face.

Moments later, Eternal Sailor Moon arrived with backup. The phage was cleansed, as had been its predecessors, and returned to human form–a theoretical research scientist. Who was the girl who called me, and how did she get ahold of a communicator? She demanded.

She called herself Midori. Uranus replied. She was Sailor Pluto in all but name and eye color.

She kept the phage busy until you arrived. Star Healer's eyes still rested on the place where she had last seen the mysterious girl. And then, she finally got hit by one of the laser blasts . . . and disappeared.

* * *

Washu sat in her lab. The cushion upon which she sat floated a couple feet in the air, but even had anyone else been in the lab, they would not have remarked on this occurrence. They were used to it. They would, however, have left once they saw the puzzled frown gracing the pink-haired scientist's face. A frowning Washu meant a great deal of trouble for someone–so it was the better part of valor to leave before she noticed their presence.

She watched a screen. But this was not just *any* screen, oh no! This was her specially adapted screen to detect Juraian power. All of the Juraian royal family had so much power that even when they weren't using it consciously, the power still . . . leaked, for lack of a better word. So, there was Sasami in the kitchen . . . Ayeka zipping around the house in chase of either Ryoko or Tenchi . . . Yosho up at the shrine . . . Tenchi up at the shrine too, so Ayeka must be chasing Ryoko.

But . . . there had been a blip. Over in Tokyo, she had seen a blip! Her pride was highly offended, because in all her twenty-thousand years of life, she had never seen someone who Jurai power. Either they had it, and it leaked in traceable amounts, or they didn't. It was as simple as that. No exceptions.

She glared angrily at the screen–an expression that turned out to only look disgustingly cute because of her small stature–and hopped down from her cushion in a huff. Exiting back into the real world through her dimensional doorway, she stalked away.

And this was why she was down by the lake when space/time ripped again, and deposited its burden in the shallows of the lake, practically at her feet. Washu was surprised, but only moderately. Not much can astonish you, once you've lived a couple thousand years or so. Especially when you live with the Masakis–there always seemed to be something strange going on, even if it was nothing more than the hourly fight between a princess, heir to the throne of an intergalactic empire, and a space pirate.

She did rather wonder what had beat the poor girl up so badly. She seemed to be only barely clinging to life, although her calm face did not bear witness to this struggle. Washu shrugged as she picked up the girl and teleported them both to her lab. First, she'd patch the girl up. Then, she'd see what sort of interesting story the girl had to tell.

And to think she had been beginning to get bored.


End Notes: Wahoo! Finished this part at last! Next time, Midori meets the Tenchi crew! Small aside–she didn't bounce dimensions again. Or times, or anything else like that. Just went through a really wasteful method of teleportation.

Oh, just in case anyone's wondering–Midori means green, or somehing like that. And why couldn't she transform? Let's just say . . . she can't draw her power from Pluto anymore. And leave it at that for now.