Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall,
Who is the Fairest
Of Them All?
-Snow White
Chapter 3: And Names Will Break Your Heart
The home of the Outer Senshi at dinner was
usually cheerful. The four- now five- members of the group would meet in
the evening, gathering around a linen draped table, food set out. There
would be talk- Hotaru's day at school, Michiru's new plans for a concert,
something Kami learned that day, the progress on the car Haruka was trying
to fix up. Setsuna would watch and listen and laugh quietly at them and
with them, shaking her head as the conversations progressed. These were
the sounds of the odd little family of senshi. Today, though, there was
silence around the table. Haruka was quietly slurping her soba noodles,
the faint sounds louder than they should have been, with the murmuring
of Michiru in the kitchen, on the phone.
Hotaru watched Kami with a sideways glance.
The older girl was holding her chopsticks in hand, idly poking the plate
of noodles and vegetables before her. Her face was pale as alabaster, and
her eyes distant. Kami did not look up with the other three, when Michiru
entered the room again, pulling out her chair and seating herself at the
table.
"What did Ami say?" Setsuna asked as the teal
haired young woman settled herself. Michiru sighed softly, with a shake
of her head. She had taken to wearing her hair back in a ponytail at the
nape of her neck when she cooked, and now part of her hair had slipped
out of its fastenings, just over her ear, where she had pressed the receiver
of the phone. Absently, she tucked the loose strands away, and began.
"The three girls are who Minako identified.
Utsukushia Kutsu, Chiisaino Yujin and Nikumu Kioku," Michiru picked up
a bowl of rice, and began to scoop some onto her plate as she spoke. "Two
of them, the Kioku one and the Yujin one..." her lips drew thin as she
set the bowl down again, "are in fair condition. They seem physically undamaged,
however, their mental capacities show...alteration."
"Alteration?" Haruka prompted, finishing her
plate and setting her chopsticks down. From Haruka's point of view, she
watched Michiru and the play of light from the chandelier above on her
face. Had it been a different senshi, the patterns of light could be mistaken
as tears on her cheeks. But the senshi of wind knew her partner better
than that. "Michiru?"
Michiru tentatively picked up her utensils,
then set them down again, not touching her food. "They have experienced
mental trauma to some degree. They have become excessively timid, and seem
to be almost photophobic. They both refuse to eat. Physically, they seem
fairly unaffected. A couple bruises, possibly from hard landings after
what Kami told us, when they were being held in the air. Nothing serious.
The doctors believe they will be able to get through to them eventually.
The Kioku one speaks, though not the Yujin one."
There was a pause that hung in the air. "And
the other one?" Haruka asked, an eye going from Michiru to Kami, then back
again. "The third girl?"
"Utsukushia Kutsu sustained severe trauma
to her head. She is immobilized and in critical condition."
"And her mental capacities?" Setsuna prompted,
thinking of the first two Michiru had explained. She was not surprised
when Michiru responded by saying that it was unknown. Kutsu had not awakened
since the arrival of the ambulance at the store.
Mercury and Venus retreated quickly, with
the disappearance of Yume and her cards. Kami, momentarily unsure what
to do, remembered a thing Setsuna had told her. In this era, if someone
is hurt, you call for doctors to come in vans- like cars- and they will
take the hurt person to a hospital with all speed. Setsuna had failed to
mention how to go about summoning one of these, since Haruka had interrupted
them with a request for the television. So, Kami did the logical thing
for a person from the eleventh century: she ran out of the store and began
screaming for people to get help.
There was already a ring of people in the
distance, people afraid to come too close to the danger zone, but brave-
or perhaps foolish- enough, to cling to the shadows of the street to see.
Kami watched some of them whip out cell phones, and by the time she was
back in the store, the scream of sirens were growing in the distance. Minako
and Ami were returning from the changing rooms as she bent down over Kutsu,
holding fingers to the pulse in her throat. The beat fluttered faintly
there, and she heard Ami and Minako say the same for the other two.
Ami had remained at the hospital, mainly because
her mother was able to pull a few strings and get them information. Dr.
Mizuno did not work in that wing of the building, but though colleagues
she was able to keep her oddly curious daughter informed to the situation.
"A new enemy?" Haruka asked into the silence.
It was an obvious question, but someone had to ask it. The food still steamed
slightly from the stove, and in the light, it curled lightly into the air,
scenting it with good smells.
"An enemy that attacks the minds of their
enemies, but does not kill." Setsuna replied quietly, asking as much as
stating the words. She made a quiet study of Haruka's features, slowly
setting into hardness. She looked at Michiru, who was just catching Haruka's
gaze, then Hotaru, who was vainly trying to catch Kami's. The last of them
still hung her head in silence, dark hair cloaking her face from view.
"A merciful enemy indeed."
"Merciful?" Haruka snapped with a scowl. "How
is being left a human vegetable merciful? Gods, look what that Yume girl
did to them!"
"It may be better to ask what she wants,"
Michiru counseled, lightly setting a hand atop Haruka's, which rested on
the table in a fist. "That attack was specifically targeted at them, by
the description. Yume knew them, and chose to attack them specifically.
Kami, you said that you saw them hurt her...."
Kami nodded her head once, then picked up
her napkin and wiped her lips politely, standing and bowing slightly. "Gomen
nasai, Michiru-chan. I am not so hungry tonight. Perhaps I will eat later,
ne?"
Four faces looked at Kami, each trying to
be neutral or friendly, rather than pitying. All the senshi knew now, that
their newest addition to the 'family' could not henshin. "Of course," Michiru
responded. "We'll put your plate in the fridge for later, okay?"
"Hai, arigatou." Kami turned and tucked her
chair back in, and slipped out of the dining room on silent feet.
The sun was setting outside, staining the
sky in ruby and amethyst shades, the clouds playing like facets over the
colored air. Streams of whiteness flowed though as delicately as a geisha's
fan, held delicately before the sun's half closed eye. Kami passed though
the stages of light and dark in the hallways, not turning on the lights
as she went, partly from lack of familiarity with the custom, partly from
desire to let her eyes rest from the light. She always enjoyed the dark,
and the way the light could play against it in a palette of color. They
say fireflies are the souls of the dead, floating in a sea of dusky light.
In such an evening, Kami could believe this, looking out through the windows
in her room to see the early fireflies waltzing below her in the gardens.
Glowing divine.
Her room was sparse yet, undecorated in the
way a familiar and often used room would be. The carpet was a bit too clean
and full, not worn down from constant trampling. The walls were bare, since
the pictures Kami had selected with Michiru the other day had not yet been
framed. There was furniture, simple and plain, of dark stained wood. A
western-style bed was tucked cozily into a corner, rather than a futon,
and a wide spread of evergreen and mauve lay across it, a pillow at the
head, with a fuzzy, white stuffed rabbit in a pink dress atop it, smiling
obliviously towards the ceiling. Kami leaned against the drapes, lacy white
things, turning around and inspecting her room. Silently, she picked up
her rabbit, hugging it lightly to her chest and enjoying the simple comfort
of a stuffed animal.
No argument, no demands. Simple comfort,
offered by a fluffy inanimate object. Such a strange sensation, hugging
Chibiusa-chan's gift. Ah, well.
Kami looked at the mirror across from her.
She had found it on one of their first excursions outside, in a store full
of old things. An antique store, she had been told, where they sell things
made long ago. It was a free-standing mirror, oval and tall as she, polished
to a shine, backed with expensive teakwood. Delicate symbols had been carved
into the wooden rim, and Kami had curiously run her fingers over the engraving,
wondering what they meant. Seeing her interest in the piece, expense was
never an object for the famed Kaioh Michiru, and the mirror was wrapped
up and purchased on the spot, much to Haruka's groanings.
I cannot henshin. I cannot henshin. Why?
Why can I not fight with them now? I was able to, when Hotaru-chan and
Kanashimi-chan came so far to find me. And all of that night, I walked
in people's dreams, until I slept on my feet, and wished that I would wake
up with the family of my sister. And I did. I did! I do not understand!
They say, "Mercury Crystal Power! Venus Crystal Power!" and the power flows
around them easily. Why not so with me? I said no phrase before...but without
it, how am I to join them now? I am failing them. Baka, I am lazy. This
could have been avoided, had I been able to step into Yume's mind before....
Kami set her stuffed rabbit back on the bed,
and found herself running a hand over the volumes of 'Alice In Wonderland'
and 'A Brief History of the World,' on her desk. Beside them sat
the two candles from Rei, one pink, one lavender, their wicks black and
the wax around them melted away in a pool, signs of previous use. Kami
had kept the book of matches in her drawer, and she pulled them out, striking
the head into flame and lighting the wicks. The slight smell of sulfur
filled the room for a moment as she blew out the match, dropping it into
the basket. She picked up the two candles, glad they were broad-based.
She set them on top of her dresser, and the warm glow of golden light was
magnified by the reflective surface of the mirror.
This is more comfortable, to me. So many
things light up here, and yet offer no warmth. Fire is so dangerous...before,
people feared the earthquakes in Miyako...Iie, Kyoto, I must remember
that....in Kyoto, because lamps would tilt and the shoji would catch afire.
The blaze would spread from house to house in the streets, until all of
the capital burned. Now, they worry that the houses will topple- and the
great structures they build that touch the sky with sharp metal fingers.
She moved around the room, opening drawers
and drawing out a piece of wickerboard, finely woven, and the fine paper
of these times. Stationery, Hotaru had told her, helping her pick out white
paper with pretty little violets around the border. Michiru's gift was
drawn out next, the brushes with bamboo handles and fine white hairs. A
well of black ink. No inkstone needed in this time, either....
Kami sighed and closed her eyes, standing
with the smooth box of brushes in hand. Behind her, light pooled around
her feet, dappled on the floor and her back by the branches and leaves
of the tree in front of the window. Looking at herself in the mirror, Kami
saw a girl out of place. She was alone, awkward still in her new clothes.
Plain denim skirt to her ankles, plain black shirt with high collar. She
still wished for her Chrysanthemum Rain, the delicate clothes she
stitched and wore so long ago. The layers, like the petals of a flower,
falling over her porcelain hands. Those hands tightened on the glossy box,
the stenciled cranes still flying.
I miss that time...I miss home....
She bowed her head, and as she looked up again,
a slight wink of light caught at her throat. She touched the necklace with
her fingertips, the smooth silver of the dreamcatcher Mamoru had given
her at her 'birthday' party. The webbing was still spun as finely as spider
silk, the strands metal gossamer.
Kami knelt down on the floor, gathering her
tools around her. She unscrewed the lid of the inkwell, and removed the
top of the box. Lightly she dipped the brush into the ink, and lightly
she traced the first curve onto the paper, watching the lines she drew
turn the paper wet black.
It was not so much home in the realm of
death. There, things were as I wished. I was home there. This...this is
not my home...not really...as much as I say so, as much as she says so,
Hotaru-chan and I are not born of the same parents...sisters in spirit
only. I miss Papa....
She saw a small droplet of rain fall onto
her paper, wetting it. Another fell silently beside it. I am being so foolish...I
can do nothing to my destiny. I cannot even help others with theirs. I
am so foolish...and now I cry for no reason...baka....
"You'll find the words."
Kami glanced up from her letters, not hearing
the door open to her room. Hotaru stood there, a hand resting lightly on
the doorknob as she slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. She stood
in the shadows, looking down at the kneeling Kami for a moment, then joining
her, sitting in the opposite direction, kneeling as Kami, hands resting
lightly on her knees. She set a small object down before her, then began,
"It is different, for us all, Kami-chan,"
Hotaru told her, not looking. She looked out to the dimming sun, and the
yellowed light falling through the window, the shadow traceries of the
light in her lap. Her dark violet eyes were far away, and gentle, and her
hair cut a sharp line over her shoulder. "The words will come. Your power
comes from a different place. When you know where that is, you will know
what to say."
"My power should stem from Saturn, ne?" Kami
wiped the tears off her cheeks, and picked up the brush again, drawing
it lightly across the paper. "If we were to have been sisters...."
"Biological or not, Kami-chan, we are if we
think so. You are Tomoe Kami, and I am Tomoe Hotaru." Quietly, she sang
the words,
Yume miru dareka no kokoro no naka yo
Kibou wo nakushita utsuro na kokoro de wa
Watashi no sugata wa kiete shimau no
Dakara dakara douzo yume wo ne
Kirei na yume wo mitsuzukete ite"
Kami listened to her. "Hai, Hotaru-chan." At
times, I wonder how it is she is supposed to be the younger sister.... After a moment, she laughed lightly at a thought. "Ah, Hotaru-chan, if
this was before, I would be teaching you many things now. How to write
letters beautifully, and I would be fitting you for the pretty layers of
clothing. We would go to town, and buy damask and silk from China. Then
come home and sew dresses and tell stories to pass time. I would read Murasaki
to you, and teach you to blacken your teeth like a lady, and powder your
face white. If sisters we would be, then I would show you these things,
since Papa could not."
Hotaru tilted her head to look at the fine
line of Kami's chin, visible around the curve of her ebony hair, catching
violet in the shifting royal light of the sunset. "What was your Mama like,
Kami-chan?"
Kami's brush hesitated a beat on the paper,
the ink pooling ever so slightly around where it paused. She continued,
arching the curve of the character lightly, then crossing it. "Mama smelled
like wildflowers. Chrysanthemums and grass in the springtime. She would
sing quietly to me, sometimes, when I was little and afraid of the thunderstorms."
"My Mama would sing when it stormed too,"
Hotaru confided quietly, still gazing out the window. "She tried to protect
me, when the fire blew though the lab. I heard Poppa calling out, and Kaori
screaming."
"But no matter how hard she fought...."
"She wasn't fast enough...."
"And the flames...."
Silence.
"Yours...."
"And mine...."
"Both..." they finished together, voices strained
gentle whispers of sorrow.
"Poppa was researching...the lab...."
"The ground shook, and a lamp tipped over....
Papa was in Miyako.... Had to tell him...."
"Tried to keep me alive for so long...."
Silence.
"Hotaru-chan?" Kami turned her head and set
the brush down, resting it lightly across the top of the inkwell. "Daijobu
ka?"
"Hai..." Hotaru trailed, voice faint, eyes
closed.
"We are mirrors of each other, ne, Hotaru-chan?"
"One sorrow reflects..."
"The other's sorrow," Kami finished quietly,
with her lips curved upward slightly. "People can endure much, when they
are not so alone."
"Misery loves company?"
Kami blinked at the unfamiliar phrase, and
nodded thoughtfully, quietly, brows drawn in thought. "There seem to be
two ways to saying such idioms you have, ne? 'Misery loves company.' It
sounds so sad. But still, is it not true? Better to be with others when
miserable, because then perhaps they pull us out of that misery, ne?"
Hotaru giggled a little, lightly. "You sound
like Usagi when you talk like that."
Kami laughed. The two sisters sat, their positions
the same, kneeling beside each other, though in opposing directions.
"Onee-san, I brought this up for you," Hotaru
picked up the small package at her knees, and handed it to Kami. "For the
picture album I gave you. They're from the party."
Kami ran a finger under the envelope, the
yellow paper proudly displaying the word 'Kodak' in blocky red letters
on the front. Drawing them out, she saw the image of herself, with the
cake before her. Her cheeks were puffed out with air, and the flames on
the candles were tilted to the side as she blew. How silly I look!
She turned to the next picture, and saw Michiru
with her violin at her chin, and Haruka at the piano, playing a song.
Then another of Michiru with her violin, and Rei with her mouth open and
eyes closed, a hand in the air as she sang. Another picture, again with
Rei, this time with Usagi, facing off with tongues out, Mamoru in the background,
looking embarrassed. Another with Chibiusa and Hotaru, the latter laughing
at the former's stuffed face. A simple picture of Kami and the Outers,
a smiling Setsuna on her right, Hotaru in front of her, a laughing Michiru
on her left with a stumbling Haruka, trying to squeeze in at the last minute.
There was one of Kami and Ami next, standing in front of the bookcases,
both slightly startled from their conversation. The next was another Kami
and Ami, moments later, Ami giving a peace sign at Minako's prompting.
Then a picture of Minako's thumb. Then a shot of Minako trying to figure
out what she did wrong, and getting an accidental shot of her glaring face.
Then a lopsided image of Makoto taking the camera away from Minako.
Then a picture of Minako looking embarrassed. There were more pictures,
one of Kami and Mamoru, trying to cut the cake again. One of Kami and Usagi.
One of Kami and the Inners. One of Makoto laughing as Kami tried to eat
her homemade taffy, with a moderate amount of success.
"Welcome to the family," Kami murmured, echoing
Usagi's words.
"You are, you know," Hotaru told her, smiling
faintly. "You are Tomoe Kami, my sister. You even have a birth certificate
now to prove it."
"Setsuna-san got the document she mentioned
then?"
Hotaru nodded, standing. "You're officially
Tomoe Kami, eldest daughter of Tomoe Soichi. You went to Juuban High School,
and graduated three years ago. All you need now is a driver's license."
The idea of herself behind the wheel of one
of those cars sent a shudder though Kami. "I think I'll leave the driving
up to Haruka-chan."
"She'll be glad to know you have such confidence
in her driving abilities," Hotaru remarked dryly. "Good night, Onee-san,"
Hotaru said in farewell, closing the door quietly behind her.
Not far from the Juuban shopping district rested
the remains of a Circus that had passed by. When the Circus had left with
mysterious speed, they left behind their ruins. The city had cleaned out
most of the buildings and structures erected for the carnival, and swept
out the remaining junk and garbage. But here and there, elements remained.
A poster clinging stickily to a post, declaring the showtimes of the World
Renowned Acrobatic Amazoness Quartet. Pins still stuck out of the concrete
in a place or two, where ropes for tents had been removed, but the spikes
forgotten. A deflated balloon floated in a pool of dirty rainwater, bits
of moldy cotton candy clinging to it. If one imagined, popcorn could still
be smelled faintly in the darker corners of the circus. People forget about
such things, when they're gone. The brightness and the light of a carnival
become a memory, nothing more.
One structure had not been torn down. The
Hall of Mirrors still stood, in slight dispute. The building itself had
originally been converted; it belonged to city hall, not the vanished Circus.
But it still donned a robe of mirrors, ungutted, and a broken electric
sign over the door declared what it was. Within the full shade of evening,
it cast a hulking shadow across the pavement, an empty shell of itself.
But as it is with such things, appearances without do not reveal what lies
within.
In the center of the maze of mirrors, there
was a room. It was circular, tall mirrors ringing it. Some were cracked,
and refracted more images than originally intended. A small dais had been
built against the far end of the room, and an overturned throne lay with
its back pressed tightly against the reflective surface of the mirror behind
it. There was little light here, and what there was came from a fluttering
bare bulb high above. And, in the room's center, Fukushu Yume lay.
Her face was clean now, the bruises sustained
so few hours ago fading unnaturally into a shade of yellow. The dirt that
clung to the vanishing scrapes was gone, and Yume's face was a mask of
serenity, eyelids closed, lashes resting lightly against her cheeks as
she breathed rhythmically. Her pale red hair lay in a careless aureole
around her face, and her arms lay out to her sides. In each of her hands
she clutched half the deck of cards, faced down.
"Yume...wake up, Yume-chan."
The words were soft and distant, echoing lightly.
"Yume-chan...wake up.... Wake up, Yume-chan..."
The words overlapped each other, layering,
one atop another, repeating endlessly in whispers that dizzied the mind.
"Wake up, wake up," the voice sang, "wake up, wake up, wake up and see
your life. Wake up wake up wake up and look where you are!"
And slowly, Yume obeyed, eyes fluttering slowly
open, reluctantly listening. She did not move, but simply stared above
her, watching the light gutter, light dark, light dark. Wake up, Yume,
wake up, Yume-chan, wake up and look up!
Where her eyes focused blearily, the air cleared away, and the
light extinguished. Instead, a bubble of light formed, shifting in soapy
shades of purple and blue and greeny gold. It distorted what lay beyond
it, and she set her cards down, half a deck to either side of her. To touch
the thing was tempting, and it was just within her reach. Lightly, she
rested her hands on either side of the glassy bubble, and the patterns
of swirling color altered, shifting around her light fingers. The world
pulled away from her, and she floated in the darkness, encompassed by the
shifting light of the orb in her hands. This same light reflected into
her face, sending the features too bright, too sharp, the shadows of her
features drawn too harshly, making her hawklike in the lighting.
"This place is mine," the voice beyond her
whispered, coaxing her too look deeper within the bubble. "Look...." The
bubble popped, and Yume covered her eyes with her hands, eyes frantically
trying to compensate for the glaring brightness. The world shifted in many
colors around her, dark shades, as though blackness veiled some stream
of beautifully colored light. Silhouettes danced in motion beyond the realm
of her vision, and then crystallized. She looked in a mirror, her hands
warmly touching the hands of the woman in the mirror. Yume drew back a
step so that she may see this new reflection. Pale, flawlessly smooth skin.
Long hands that tapered like willow wands. Black hair full of waves, falling
to her feet, and pooling around her long skirts. The face still lay shadowed,
but yellowy eyes reflected back at her, golden and catlike, with pupils
slit vertically. "This place is yours, as well, Yume-chan," the silky woman
smiled down at Yume, who stared, entranced. The woman was beautiful in
her shadows, so beautiful that it bordered on ugliness. The contrast of
pale skin to dark shadow around her cheeks and eyes was too sharp. The
eyes, rather than exotic, bordered on freakish. But such an aura of calm
command emanated from the woman within the mirror, these flaws flew by
unnoticed.
"Goddess of the Night...."
"Goddess," she sang softly, "locked away,
far away," the face looked away from Yume, looking behind her, and Yume
turned to see what the woman saw, the forgotten memory of a small battle.
Four young girls stood behind a queenly woman in white. One held a baby
in her arms, cradling it as the royal mother stood forward, holding a scepter,
the tip a golden crescent moon, a crystal shining in its center. Yume felt
her lips open to scream, but no sound came. She had no time to react as
the light from that shining stone blazed into her body. She felt herself
growing cold and hard, lifting her hands and pressing them against the
inside of a looking glass. Soundlessly, she screamed, pounding against
the inside of her cell with her fists.
The glass shattered, and Yume stood again
in the Hall of Mirrors, clutching the Tarot cards to her chest, once more
a single deck. "Those girls..." Little girls, miniatures of who they were
now. But she recognized them. Who wouldn't? This was Tokyo, and snippets
of footage of the legendary Sailor Senshi turned up on the evening news
or in the paper every few weeks. And hadn't Yume just fought two of them
earlier that day? The red bow was unmistakable, on the one who held the
little baby in her arms. Agent of Love and Beauty, the pretty sailor suited
soldier, Sailor Venus. Or so she introduced herself.
"Hai," she heard, and shivered, turning to
look at the mirror. Where the dais met the overturned throne, Yume saw
movement, the face of the hideously beautiful woman. She stood within the
mirror weakly, balancing herself on the reflection of the throne, pulling
herself upright painfully, nobly. "It is the nature of the dark to complement
the light. And they sealed me away, for a thousand years and more. Until
she was reborn. And then I once again tried to claim my throne. But this
time," the figure shuddered, looking at her hands. "this time only a ghost
remains of the darkness."
"Who are you?" Yume asked, not daring to look
into those felineniod eyes.
The woman in the shadows did not answer her,
but continued, "I gave you power to avenge yourself on your enemies. So
now I give you power to avenge me. This was our bargain, Yume-chan. Don't
you remember, my dear Yume-chan...?"
Yume pulled away from the darkness in the
mirror, clutching her familiar cards tightly. Queen and Kings and Emperors
and Empresses, Fools and Stars and Moons and Towers. The Major Arcana,
the trumps. Yume was the fortune-teller in the World Famous Dead Moon Sideshow,
a Circus freak who people liked to point at. Oh yes, people like to make
fun of those who are not as we. Quasimodo and Frankenstein and Yume, stupid
Yume, ugly Yume, with her silly Tarot cards.
"Who are you?" This time, she was bold enough
to meet those peculiar eyes.
The smile was that of a cheshire cat, mad
and sane at once. "I am merely the reflection of the mirror...."
The evening lengthened quietly into night,
and the patterns of light on the floor of Kami's room shifted as time passed
by. The drapes were never closed, and starlight from the empty sky poured
in clearly. The moon was waning, a silver crescent, light only clinging
to the edge of the surface. As the evening wore on, Kami continued to practice,
copying out her letters with painstaking care, her handwriting neat and
precise, though flowing. The brush made soft scratching sounds against
the smooth paper, the ink a stark black chiaroscuro against the white.
Beyond the closed door, Kami could hear the sounds of the other senshi,
moving about as they watched the evening news, got ready for bed. Water
ran though the pipes as someone took a shower, and the sound of the tv
died away as the clock wore on. There was a grandfather clock in the hallway,
and it struck with hollow chimes, sending echoes through the quieting house.
Kami was entranced by the words she copied, quietly losing herself in the
letters. It was easy, to slip into a meditative state, lift the brush,
set against the paper, move hand, up, down, across.
Waiting.
She knelt on the floor, patiently waiting.
The house grew still, and the street beyond. There were sounds of cars
racing in the distance, scurrying to places far away. Distantly, Kami heard
these things, but the paper and the black characters against it were all
she paid attention to. The world was outside her, and not a thing of relevance.
The clock struck again, ringing ten, eleven,
twelve times. Moments passed, and a chill breeze flushed the room, stirring
the completed sheets at her feet. The top one sailed off the pile, sighing
as it skidded to a halt out of reach. Her brush did not falter, merely
hesitating a moment, then continuing as though she were unobserved.
So she has come. Ah. Remain silent.
Within her looking glass, Yume watched the
older girl, kneeling so quietly on the floor. She moved with grace, hand
sweeping from inkwell to paper, hand moving in rhythm to her own motion.
If one listened carefully, Kami could be heard to hum,
soshite ima yori yasashiku naru no ne
Kami had borrowed one of Setsuna's cd's, and
the words ran though her head incessantly. Quietly, she igored her
audience, who, for the time being, seemed content to watch her work. The
reflection of the room was also occupied by Kami, mirroring the living
one's motions exactly, with precision. Yume circled the room, looking at
the reflected candles, the reflected books, the imaginary Kami. She picked
up one of the notes of paper, and frowned at it, unfamiliar with the peculiar
dialect. Her brow arched. "This is Japanese?"
"Hai," came the soft reply, without looking
up. The brush curved as she drew it down, lengthening the stroke to finish
the letter.
"Don't want to talk? Don't want to ask me
why I'm here?" Yume was puzzled by this, frowning down at the kneeling
woman.
There was a tapping sound as Kami removed
excess ink from her brush. She brought the brush into contact with the
paper again, lightly forming the final syllable. Then she read it aloud:
Silence sometimes tells of deeper thoughts."
All Yume wanted was to be beautiful. For people to like her. People to love her, for a change. If she could be perfect enough- just perfect enough- figure out what it was that Kutsu saw that was so wrong with her- then she'd finally be accepted. Kutsu herself would ask forgiveness from Yume. And Yume would laugh and say it was all right, that Kutsu was just showing her what was wrong with her. And now that she was all fixed up.... They would laugh, and Kutsu would be kind, now that Yume was normal. And Yume would have a boyfriend. When she was perfect, she could do that. Who would want Yume as she was now, flawed and fat and ugly? Nobody, of course! Who would want such a thing? They say, 'Thing, oh Thing, go away, we don't want you here.'
Yume looked at the perfectly pretty girl on the floor, kneeling, still lightly humming to herself as she worked.
nee, hito ha donna namae de yondeiru no
"You know the Sailor Senshi," Yume announced, her voice cold.
She has just decided something. Hai, she has dedicated herself to this course of action now. Why? And to whom as she dedicated this duty?
"And you think to watch me as I write?" Kami replied as she blew lightly on her paper, drying the ink with her breath. The ink deepened as the wetness dried.
"You called to the Mercury one with familiarity. Kanashimi-chan, you said," Yume stopped her inspection of the scanty bookshelves, turning to stand in the oval threshold of the mirror's surface. "How do you know her?"
Kami set the last sheaf of paper aside, folding her hands and bowing her head. She sighed softly, once, then stood. She smiled faintly as her legs were stiff, and she stood slightly awkwardly. "I am getting old. My legs cannot sit for more than a few hours in the polite position anymore."
Yume's lips tightened to a thin line as she watched Kami move to her dresser, and then reach up behind her head, pulling out the ribbons that held the loops of her hair in place. A cascade of purpling black fell around her face, and she pushed the curtain aside, so that she could comb it to smoothness. "All people have their demons, Yume-chan."
"Tell me. How you know the Mercury one."
Kami whisked the comb out of her hair, then began again at her scalp, running it smoothly though. "All people have Furies in their mind, preying on their weaknesses. Some think they are not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not strong enough, not popular enough, not smart enough, not kind enough, not wise enough." Kami set the brush down, and ran a hand over her hair thoughtfully. Then, she caught Yume's eyes. "I wonder; What is your Fury, Yume-chan?"
Yume did not care to follow this course of conversation. Her eyes grew narrow, and her posture antagonistic, leaning forward. She ignored the reflective Kami, only looking at the living one, now calmly braiding her hair, plaiting it so that she could sleep more easily on such a length. Thick hair can be as much burden as beauty.
"I'll watch you. Watch you and your family here. They'll lead me to the senshi, eventually. If you know them, then why not they?" Yume smiled as a thought crossed her mind. "Or perhaps they themselves are?" The words were barbed, careful, and Yume focused on Kami's face as she said them. Kutsu had taught her cruelty well. Kami tied off the end of her braid, then moved to her dresser drawer, pulling out a nightgown of yellow and white. She laid it out on the bed, then replied to Yume,
"Watch what you will. My family has no secrets to hide from those who skulk about in mirrors. And know this," for the first time, Kami's voice grew hard as she faced the mirror. "If you harm them, the consequences will be greater than you may foresee. Harming innocent people will bring evil spirits down on you. In the end, that is always why darkness looses to light. It cannot abide itself alone."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Yume growled, feeling angry. "You have no problems. People like you don't have problems. You're pretty. Pretty girl with long hair and pale eyes such a strange color. Thin and pretty, like on commercials and models. You speak prettily, and you move prettily. Like a lady of stories." Yume made a motion of disgust, backing away from Kami with the intention to leave.
Ah, so that is the name of your Fury....
"Even the Safflower Lady found a kind man, Yume-chan. Beauty is a fleeting thing. All things wilt and die. A beautiful soul like yours does not."
But Yume had already turned away.
The smell of pizza wafted though Mamoru's apartment.
Though it wasn't exactly gourmet- actually, it was a frozen pizza- it was
a small attempt by Usagi to cook. It was nearing readiness, and the cheese
was melted. Mamoru had the oven open a crack to check on it. Seeing the
center still cold, he shut the door, setting the hotpad aside and turning
around to watch Usagi struggle with the book she had in her hands. At the
kitchen counter, his blonde girlfriend was standing, her head down, chewing
her lower lip, one hand scratching absently at the back of her odangoed
head. The book was open, and she was rereading the passage over, trying
to grasp the concept presented.
"Mamo-chan?" Usagi asked, looking up. Her
lips twisted to the side, uncertainly, as her eyes clouded. "Do I have
this right? People are born without any kind of preconceived ideas about
anything? That seems simple enough...why is this such a big deal?"
Mamoru left the oven, coming to stand beside
and behind Usagi, who was busy again with the letters on the page. "Ah,
Locke," Mamoru noted as he saw the page Usagi was on. "Essay Concerning
Human Understanding, 1690..." he murmured as he caught up to where
Usagi was. "Ah. Pretty much, yes. He claimed that when people are born,
they are born as a 'blank slate'- tabula rosa, in Latin- As we hear
and see things, we fill up this slate, though processes of reasoning and
reflection. There's a difference between simply feeling something and understanding
something. The influences of the world around you change your conceptions
of yourself and the world."
Usagi blinked, thought about that a moment,
then nodded. "That seems simple enough," then she laughed, "Mamo-chan,
arigatou, for helping me!" She clung to his arm for a moment, and grinned,
sighing dreamily. "This is almost like a date...."
"I thought you two were supposed to be studying,"
Luna drolled from the floor, looking up at the two humans. She had the
cat equalivent of an eyebrow arch on her face, wryly watching the pair.
"Never mind," Usagi said grumpily, releasing
Mamoru. "It's exactly like one of our dates." She sat on one of the stools,
frowning at her cat. "Dinner's not ready yet, Luna."
"I didn't come in here for dinner. There's
something on the news you two should see." Luna turned and sprinted off
with feline quickness, back into the living room of the apartment. Curious,
Usagi and Mamoru followed her, seeing Chibiusa on her feet, Diana in her
hands, staring at the television.
"Chibiusa-chan, what's wrong?" The pink haired
girl shook her head, and stepped away from the television a bit.
"It happened again. Another attack."
The older two turned to watch the field reporter
talking. She stood in a schoolyard, dressed smartly in a suit, formal and
proper and plastic. It was a recorded video, since it showed light outside,
and now the sky was overcast and cloudy. The reporter was saying, "...is
the sixth such attack that's been recorded in the last week. Sources say
that this small epidemic is afflicting students seemingly at random,
and at all ages. The alleged victim is reported to be a minor, male, attending
this elementary school. The name will not be released, do to the alleged
victim's age. At approximately four o'clock today, an ambulance was called
to pick up the child. Current reports say he is in fair condition, however
is refusing...."
Usagi and Mamoru turned to see Luna with a
paw on the remote control, putting the television on mute. After a moment,
the reporter and schoolyard scene flipped back to the newsroom, and the
anchor launched into his next story. "Sixth the news had been able to pick
up on," Luna said as she sat back on her haunches. "The first three were
those girls, with Ami-chan and Minako-chan. Ami-chan reports that there
were at least four more coming in, with similar symptoms as the original
three, all from the Juuban district."
"We fought her off once, at school," Usagi
offered, frowning thoughtfully, a hand to her chin. "Yume...she was always
so quiet.... I can't believe she's doing this on her own! Something's wrong.
It's not like her."
"Usako, how well do you know this Yume girl?"
Mamoru asked, folding his arms. He looked between Usagi, then Chibiusa.
When Usagi shook her head wordlessly, he focused on his future daughter.
"Chibiusa-chan, that's your school, isn't it?"
"Hai. I wonder..." her face puckered into
a frown as she mentally went though all the people at school. "I wonder
who'll be absent tomorrow.... Yume seems to be attacking people who made
fun of her, right? For revenge?"
"In the case of the first three, yes," Mamoru
agreed, seeing where Chibiusa was going with her train of thought. "But
how likely is it that someone in your school even knew Yume?"
Chibiusa frowned, thinking about that.
"Besides, Chibiusa, it's not likely that she'll
come back," Usagi sighed, shrugging. "She seems to want to stay around
Juuban High. It's freaky going there now," Usagi shuddered, thinking of
the one battle they had been able to avert. Yume had come, still in the
same green dress, still using her Tarot deck as a weapon. It had been Sailor
Moon, Mercury, Jupiter and Venus against her; Mamoru was at school himself,
and Rei across town at T.A. Academy. Haruka and Michiru had not yet finished
the transfer to their school. Yume was fast, despite her skinny body. She
was almost emaciated, bone thin with sunken cheeks. But she was flushed
and angry, and that lent her strength. Ever since that attack, and students
had actually seen the Sailor Senshi appear, the school was locked up tight,
on high security. Seeing Senshi was always a treat- so mysterious- except
for when they're battling in your backyard. Then it was scary. Yume hadn't
seemed particularly concerned with the punishment of her now terrorized
former tormentor. In fact, she hadn't even attacked him again. But she
vanished quickly as more senshi arrived before her. And she had been smiling
quietly. Not maniacal laughter. Just a simple smile, a check of her watch,
and then vanishing. Almost like she was timing their arrival there, and
who showed up.
"Usagi-chan," Diana piped up quietly from
Chibiusa's arms, "I smell something burning." The Moon Princess's eyes
rounded huge, she made a small 'eep' sound, then spun, hurtling out of
the room after her small attempt at cooking frozen pizza. Mamoru was right
behind her- he didn't need his kitchen struck by Usagi in tornado mode.
Luna shook her head, darting off after them, shouting advice on how not
to burn pizza.
Hearing a sigh, Diana tried to twist around
to see Chibiusa's expression. Which, she found, was thoughtful.
"Diana, Yume returned to Juuban High several
times, didn't she?"
"Hai," Diana agreed, squirming out of Chibiusa's
grasp to stand beside her mother on the table. "You think she'll return
to your school?"
Chibiusa nodded, sitting down on the couch
and putting her chin in her hands. She looked at the two cats, one black,
one grey. "I'm the only senshi at my school. Maybe Usagi-chan and the others
scared her off from the high school."
"But why would she attack your school? She
probably doesn't know anyone...."
"And why would she know whoever she sent to
the hospital today?" Chibiusa looked at the tv, now in the middle of a
lawnmower commercial. She frowned and hit the remote, turning it off. The
screen went blank, and she heard Usagi and Mamoru clattering around in
the kitchen, and the sound of plates being pulled down from cupboards.
"She's picking on bullies, I bet. I've got three boys in mind, and I bet
any money it was one of them sent to the hospital. They probably deserved
it."
"Small Lady!" Diana gasped, startled. "How
can you say anyone deserves such a thing?"
Chibiusa shrugged. "Diana, don't you remember
how mean people were in the future? It was always just the two of us. I'd've
liked to show some of them a thing or two," her voice soured, remembering
the meanness of some people. Accusing her of not being the princess at
all. A fake princess. That was why she had snuck into her Mother's room,
snatching the Silver Crystal when she did. Chibiusa frowned, then continued,
"I wouldn't do what Yume is doing. But I can see why she's doing it. I
bet she'll be back at school tomorrow. And I'm the only senshi there."
Diana was watching Chibiusa carefully, seeing
the memories of her past- everyone else's' future- pass though her eyes.
Diana knew Chibiusa missed having human friends. She was her best friend
in the future, but also her guardian. It wasn't the same. Until Chibiusa
met Hotaru, and had a real, human friend, she had never been completely
happy. "Then you'll have to be careful," Diana decided, taking on her role
of advisor to the future princess. "And don't forget your communicator.
If you need help, you'll have to call for it."
"Hai..." Chibiusa nodded, standing up with
a determined expression.
Just then, Usagi poked her head out of the
kitchen, pigtails trailing behind her as she called, "Chibiusa-chan! It's
ready! And it's only a little crunchy on the one side...." She grinned,
then laughed. "Come on! Dinner!"
And Chibiusa ran to join her parents.
********************
