REUNION
Chapter 4: "Good Fortune To Sick Friends"
By Bill K.
Ami walked down the hall of the apartment building, searching
for the proper address. Makoto now lived in a different building
than the one she had the last time Ami had visited - - which was six
years ago.
"My third dinner date in as many days," Ami mused as she
clutched her package to her side. "If I were this popular in Oxford,
I wouldn't get anything done." She spotted the right door and moved
toward it. "Now, Ami, enough of that. You're only in Japan for two
weeks, so you're going to be as frivolous as possible. You spend
enough time being a studious old stick in the mud."
She rang the bell and in moments the door opened. Greeting her
was Sanjuro. He was even more handsome in person. His hair was dark
and thick, his frame wide and burly - - and yet, there was an
intelligence to his eyes and a tenderness to his features that hinted
at another side to him behind all the muscles. So far he met with
her approval, and her friends had already accepted him. That made
her feel good for Makoto.
"I know the traditional gift to bring is wine," Ami said
uncomfortably, "but, well, . . . fruit is much better for your
health." And she shoved a gift basket of fruit at Sanjuro with far
more speed and power than she intended.
"It's OK," chuckled Sanjuro, taking the basket from her. "I
like fruit. Besides, it's the thought that counts. Come on in."
Ami swallowed her embarrassment and entered. She heard the
rattle of pans from the kitchen about the moment she smelled a
delicious dinner. Glancing around the apartment, she saw that Makoto
hadn't lost any of her knack for interior design. The place looked
like the cover of a decorating magazine.
"Babe," Sanjuro called out, "Ami's here."
"Just about ready!" Makoto called back.
"Makoto, your apartment is beautiful!" Ami told her. "How do
you do it?"
"A little inspiration and a lot of hard work," Makoto answered
from the kitchen.
"I must be lacking the inspiration then, because I could work
for ten years and not get my place to look like this," Ami said,
entering the kitchen. Makoto was finishing the arrangement of a
salad that could double for a work of art. "And so far, I'm very
impressed with Sanjuro, too. I didn't really notice him yesterday
when we were at the hospital. Makoto, he's," and Ami flushed
nervously, "VERY nice."
"Yeah," grinned Makoto. "He's my little snuggle-muffin."
"Makoto, there's nothing 'little' about him."
She shrugged. "Well, I've always been a big hunk of girl. I
guess it takes a big hunk of man to handle me."
"Um, I forgot to ask earlier. Does he - - know?"
"About what? Oh, you mean the senshi thing? Yeah, I told him
before we moved in together."
"How did he take it?"
"He thought I was kidding at first. Of course, transforming
before his eyes kind of convinced him." Makoto searched for the
right way to convey her impressions. "He worries a little, which is
darling, but he understands. He knows what the senshi mean to Tokyo
and he's OK with that. Of course, we haven't had anybody like Sailor
Galaxia roar through here recently and put his understanding to the
test. But he understands. Don't let his exterior fool you, Ami.
San-san's really deep." Grabbing potholders, Makoto pulled the
roasted fish out of the oven. "Perfect! C'mon, Ames, dinner's
ready."
The three sat down to eat. Before starting, though, Makoto
poured out three glasses of fruit juice (in deference to Ami, who
didn't drink alcohol). With Ami and Sanjuro looking at her, Makoto
raised her glass.
"Good fortune to sick friends," Makoto said solemnly. "We
grieve for their losses and honor them with our loyalty and our
unity."
"Good fortune to them," Sanjuro echoed. Their glasses clinked.
"Well spoken, Makoto," Ami nodded. "Have you been to see her?"
"I was there a couple of hours before she went into surgery,"
Makoto replied. "She was pretty nervous, but she was holding up
pretty well. I keep waiting for her to go to pieces and it doesn't
happen. Sure, she's hurt, but she's bearing it with remarkable
strength."
"I know what you mean," Ami said. "I'd noticed a maturity in
the way she composed her letters, but I can't get over how much she's
grown psychologically. And yet, I'm struck by how much of the old
playfulness and charm she's retained. She's actually grown and I
think all I've done is gotten older."
"You're being too hard on yourself," Makoto smiled. "You're a
lot different from that wide-eyed little girl that went off to
England six years ago. You seem more sure of yourself." Ami
shrugged modestly.
"So have you visited Usagi?" Sanjuro asked. "I haven't known
her long, but she strikes me as the type that needs her pals around."
"Very true," smiled Ami. "I saw her after the surgery. She
was still pretty incoherent from the anesthetic. I talked to Mamoru
and he thinks the surgery went well. Her vitals were consistent with
that."
"You'd know," grinned Makoto. "All they are is lights on a
screen to me." Then she sobered. "I don't want to drag dinner down,
but - - could that sort of thing happen to me?"
Ami's brow furrowed.
"Nicely done," Sanjuro chided Makoto softly.
"It's all right," Ami said. "Miscarriage isn't something that
can be predicted one hundred percent. There are ways to reduce the
risk, but prevent it? I'm afraid not. But please don't let that
scare you away from having children. As you can see by the
population of the world, the odds are greatly in your favor."
Makoto nodded, embarrassed.
"Well," Sanjuro said brightly, "now that my wife-to-be has
brought things to a screeching halt - - seen any good movies?"
"Oh, shut up," Makoto said, her expression a mix of petulance
and humor. She playfully punched Sanjuro in the arm.
All through dinner, Ami kept a critical eye on Sanjuro and the
way he and Makoto interacted. Makoto's description of him was
accurate. Despite his size and his physical vocation, Sanjuro was
very articulate. He proved to be well versed in many of the arts,
and well enough read to hold his own in topical conversation. The
man also demonstrated a charmingly easy-going manner. He had his own
opinions, but was open to opposing views and on the whole acted very
calm and rational. The more time Ami spent with him, the easier it
was to accept him. His thick black hair and his sparkling violet
eyes didn't hurt either.
". . . and then Usagi said 'Hey, you two owe me!', so naturally
we had to go," Sanjuro laughed. "But we had a good time."
"Usagi said that before," Ami said. "What exactly do you owe
her?"
"Well she introduced us," grinned Makoto. "She never told you
the story?" Ami shook her head. "Well, about three years ago almost
Usagi was at the restaurant I cook at. This was when she was still
in art school. I was by the door to the kitchen - - she'd had a bowl
of soup and just HAD to come back and complement me on it."
"And get seconds," Sanjuro added. Ami smiled.
"So I'd just given her the soup," Makoto continued. "Which was
my first mistake, giving Usagi an entire bowl of soup to carry. And
she's chattering on and on, going on about how delicious it is. Of
course she's not watching where she's going and she turns right into
San-san, who just happened to be eating there and was headed for the
cashier to pay his check."
"Oh, no!" groaned Ami.
"You guessed it," nodded Makoto. "The bowl hits his arm and
soup splashes all over my blouse. Well instantly Usagi's on one side
of me, bowing and scraping, apologizing until she's blue."
"And I'm on the other side," smiled Sanjuro, "trying to
apologize, wondering if I should dare even touch her to try to wipe
the soup off her blouse. Then I begin to notice how attractive she
is."
"And I can see that by his expression. And I begin to notice
that he's kind of cute, too."
"Which I begin to pick up on. So, me being Mr. Smoothie, I ask
her if she'd allow me to make it up to her by taking her out to
dinner."
"Which is a line if I ever heard one," smirked Makoto. "But
there was something about the way he was looking at me that told me
to take a chance. Besides, you know how easy I am to impress. So I
agreed. And Ami, you should have seen Usagi. Her eyes were saucers,
but she had this ear to ear grin, too. From that moment on, she
needed daily updates from me on how we were doing. And when we fell
in love, she started saying we owed her - - and I guess we do,
because we never would have met if not for her."
"Oh, that story's wonderful!" grinned Ami.
"Yeah and Minako keeps threatening to sic her on Rei next,"
joked Sanjuro and all three broke up laughing.
When the meal was finished, Makoto gathered up the dishes, then
gave Ami a subtle nod toward the kitchen. Ami picked up on it
immediately and volunteered to help. Makoto put up a feeble protest
for the sake of appearances, then the pair adjourned to the kitchen.
"Well, what do you think?" Makoto asked excitedly.
"About Sanjuro?" Ami asked. Makoto nodded vigorously. "I'm
almost sorry I didn't find him first." Makoto's smile quickly spread
across her face.
"Yeah, he's a doll, isn't he?" Makoto grew somewhat
self-conscious. "I'm really glad you like him, Ami. Your opinion's
real important to me. Not that the others aren't, but, well, I've
always liked you a lot, Ami. And I really respect your opinion and
if you hadn't liked him I would have just died."
"Well, thank you. Makoto, I'm hardly an expert on the heart,
but you both seem very happy together. Sanjuro seems perfect. Is
there anything wrong with him?"
"Well," Makoto hesitated. "He drinks the milk straight out of
the bottle. And he watches too much sports. And he drapes his
clothes over a chair instead of folding them. And he pays way too
much attention to 'Dragon Courage Challenge' than I think he should,
and for all the wrong reasons." Makoto smirked. "But I think I can
live with that."
"And, I hope, for a long, long time," smiled Ami. She grasped
Makoto's hands in hers and Makoto seemed about to burst. "How are
the wedding plans going? Is there anything I can help with?"
"Everything's done and ready. Rei's got all the ceremony
details handled and my grandmother's handling everything else with
me." Makoto smiled wistfully. "Which is kind of nice, too, because
she and I haven't always had the greatest relationship. This kind of
makes up for some things that happened in the past." Makoto
brightened. "So all you have to do is be there."
"I will. And I'm very honored you consider me close enough to
be part of the ceremony."
"Ami, you're the sister I never had - - you and the others.
You guys got me through my teenage years. I'd probably be dead by
now - - or in prison or some other crummy fate if not for you four.
Everything I am I owe to you guys."
"That's not quite true," Ami smiled. "You're not giving
yourself and your own strength of character any credit. You would
have turned out just fine without us. But we're all richer for being
in each other's lives."
"Amen to that," Makoto smiled, her eyes misting. She put her
hand on Ami's shoulder and Ami put her hand over Makoto's.
* * * *
Usagi looked up from her drawing pad to see Setsuna standing
timidly in the doorway. With spirited animation, she waved the woman
in.
"I apologize for not being here sooner, My Princess," Setsuna
said, "but there were things I had to complete. Once they were
finished, I came straight from the university."
"You're here," smiled Usagi. "That's the important thing."
"It is times like these which make me yearn for closer lines of
communication between inner and outer senshi." Setsuna sat down on a
chair next to the bed. "My Princess, I grieve for your loss."
Usagi's smile grew melancholy.
"If it hurts to discuss it, we can move to other subjects."
"No, I should talk about it. It's going to hurt no matter what
I do, so I might as well get used to hurting when I talk about it."
Usagi looked down. "I miss her, Setsuna. It's weird. I've dealt
with death for years now. I've dealt with family dying - - or more
accurately not dealt with it - - because you're all my family and
I've had to watch you all die. But - - this is the first time I've
had to face how permanent it is. Because you all came back, and I
keep waiting for Kousagi to come back," and Usagi looked down, "and
she doesn't."
"It is a terrible burden to bear, some of the things we know
and see as senshi," Setsuna said. "While I cannot accurately know
the depth of your loss, I do have a sense of the permanence of death
and the weight of loss."
Usagi looked at her inquiringly.
"I, too, have not had normal dealings with mortality and the
passage of events," Setsuna told her. "As the years pass, my - -
sensitivity to the past and the future grows. I see things, in
dreams, that are past events I was not witness to when it happened,
as well as curious events that can only be the future, that only
sometimes come true. I have visions from time to time of terrible
tragedies in the past that have shaped our present. I see them as if
I had been there, though that is an impossibility, with all the
resulting carnage and loss of life. I have visions where I see
people I have known that are dead and gone as clearly as I see you
- - and I see people who might not be but for a single choice someone
will make. It is disconcerting - - but it is part of the price we
pay for being senshi."
"These people," Usagi asked. "Was one of them Kousagi?"
"I have not seen Kousagi," Setsuna said, then grasped Usagi's
hand firmly, "but if I do, I will pass along your love." Usagi
squeezed her hand in return.
"So, do you like teaching?" Usagi asked.
"It is not my life's ambition," admitted Setsuna, "but being
the assistant to Professor Shinjo is an excellent experience. He is
a very knowledgeable man and his theories in astronomy and the
physics of relativity are," and Setsuna paused to pin down the right
word, "invigorating."
"Is he cute?" Usagi asked, her "matchmaker's smile" on her
face.
"My Princess," Setsuna smirked, "he is twenty-five years my
senior."
"That doesn't answer the question," Usagi smirked back.
"Professor Shinjo is married," Setsuna informed her, "and even
if he were not, my romantic interests would lay elsewhere."
"Well, at least you have them," joked Usagi. "We were
beginning to wonder."
"Pay no attention to anything Michiru may intimate," Setsuna
playfully responded. She looked at the sketchpad. "Even in bed you
continue to draw?"
"I was bored," Usagi shrugged. "I told Himeko and this morning
she dropped off this pencil and sketch pad." She waved the pad,
opened to the center, at Setsuna. "I'm already half way through it.
And there are a few sketches in here that I might be able to make
into my own manga series."
"Can we see?" came a husky voice from the doorway. They looked
over and saw Haruka and Michiru. "Hi, Dumpling."
"We came as soon as we heard, but I was in Kyoto at a concert
date," Michiru said apologetically.
"You were?" Usagi asked. "Did Haruka play piano?"
Haruka shrugged, then grabbed Michiru around the waist. "You
know she's the only one I'll play piano for - - or wear that monkey
suit for, for that matter."
"Oh, I wish I could have heard it!"
Michiru smiled. "We're pressing a concert CD. I'll give you a
copy."
"Really? That's great! Mamo-chan really loves your music. I
do to, even though I really don't understand it."
"If you like it," Michiru said, "then you understand it. I'm
sorry about your loss, Usagi."
"Yeah, crazy world, isn't it," Haruka added. "So many people
who don't deserve kids get 'em and folks that do deserve 'em . . ."
Haruka's voice trailed off and she glanced at Michiru.
"I'll have my child," Usagi said. "I just have to be patient.
And I've told you two before, you could always adopt."
"Only after 'Daddy' chooses a safer profession," Michiru said,
snuggling up to Haruka. Haruka ignored the comment. "So let's see
this sketch you're so proud of."
"Are you sure?" Usagi asked. "I mean, I've never been able to
draw as well as you do."
"We all have our strengths, Usagi," Michiru smiled maternally.
"I've told you that before. You may not paint as well as I do, but
there's no way I could draw manga as well as you do."
Usagi blushed, flipped back a few pages, and then showed her
friends the sketch. On the page was a girl of about eight. Her hair
was done up in twin buns that resembled hearts, with ribbons of hair
flowing behind her. The child wore a uniform that consisted of a
tight-fitting white bodice with white puffed sleeves and a
heart-shaped pendant at the center of the chest, a dark mini-skirt
trimmed with heart patterns and calf high boots with heart patterns
on the toes. She carried a wand with a heart at the top and had the
most adorable face.
"Is this how you conceived of Kousagi when she would be eight?"
Setsuna asked. Usagi nodded self-consciously. "I notice a
resemblance to Chibi-Chibi."
"Really?" Usagi said and glanced at the page. "I guess so."
"What's with the uniform?" Haruka asked.
"Well, this little pink fairy comes to her one day and grants
her magical powers, but only so long as she uses them to bring peace
and happiness to the world." Usagi scowled. "It's sort of a
recycled concept. I was going to do it with wedding gowns, but
'Wedding Peach' beat me to it."
"Just how recycled is that concept? It sounds quite familiar,"
Michiru told her. Usagi blushed. "Well, they say write what you
know."
"I look forward to reading your first issue," Setsuna smiled,
patting her hand.
"Are all of you staying for the wedding?" Usagi asked.
"Are we invited?" Haruka asked.
"Of course you are!" Usagi huffed. "I know you and Makoto have
had your differences, but you're still part of the family and she's
not going to throw you out or anything!" Usagi rolled her eyes.
"Although if you don't mind your manners, Rei might."
"OK, Dumpling," chuckled Haruka. "You convinced me." She
turned to Michiru. "So, you want to go?"
"Of course! I love weddings!" Michiru smiled.
"We'll be there," Haruka told Usagi. "I'll even get dressed
up."
"Great, because you really look handsome in morning clothes,
Haruka," smiled Usagi. Then she sobered. "Or do I mean pretty?"
The three outers got a chuckle from that.
"I shall be there as well," Setsuna said. "And I will attempt
to look as pretty as possible."
"I'm not worried," grinned Usagi.
"Will you be out in time?" Haruka asked.
"Yeah. I get out tomorrow morning." Usagi rolled her eyes
again. "I wish I could get out now." Getting a sudden thought,
Usagi looked up at Haruka and Michiru. "Can you stay a little
longer?"
"Certainly," smiled Michiru.
"Great! You can tell me all about Kyoto! I've always wanted
to go there!"
Continued in part 5
Chapter 4: "Good Fortune To Sick Friends"
By Bill K.
Ami walked down the hall of the apartment building, searching
for the proper address. Makoto now lived in a different building
than the one she had the last time Ami had visited - - which was six
years ago.
"My third dinner date in as many days," Ami mused as she
clutched her package to her side. "If I were this popular in Oxford,
I wouldn't get anything done." She spotted the right door and moved
toward it. "Now, Ami, enough of that. You're only in Japan for two
weeks, so you're going to be as frivolous as possible. You spend
enough time being a studious old stick in the mud."
She rang the bell and in moments the door opened. Greeting her
was Sanjuro. He was even more handsome in person. His hair was dark
and thick, his frame wide and burly - - and yet, there was an
intelligence to his eyes and a tenderness to his features that hinted
at another side to him behind all the muscles. So far he met with
her approval, and her friends had already accepted him. That made
her feel good for Makoto.
"I know the traditional gift to bring is wine," Ami said
uncomfortably, "but, well, . . . fruit is much better for your
health." And she shoved a gift basket of fruit at Sanjuro with far
more speed and power than she intended.
"It's OK," chuckled Sanjuro, taking the basket from her. "I
like fruit. Besides, it's the thought that counts. Come on in."
Ami swallowed her embarrassment and entered. She heard the
rattle of pans from the kitchen about the moment she smelled a
delicious dinner. Glancing around the apartment, she saw that Makoto
hadn't lost any of her knack for interior design. The place looked
like the cover of a decorating magazine.
"Babe," Sanjuro called out, "Ami's here."
"Just about ready!" Makoto called back.
"Makoto, your apartment is beautiful!" Ami told her. "How do
you do it?"
"A little inspiration and a lot of hard work," Makoto answered
from the kitchen.
"I must be lacking the inspiration then, because I could work
for ten years and not get my place to look like this," Ami said,
entering the kitchen. Makoto was finishing the arrangement of a
salad that could double for a work of art. "And so far, I'm very
impressed with Sanjuro, too. I didn't really notice him yesterday
when we were at the hospital. Makoto, he's," and Ami flushed
nervously, "VERY nice."
"Yeah," grinned Makoto. "He's my little snuggle-muffin."
"Makoto, there's nothing 'little' about him."
She shrugged. "Well, I've always been a big hunk of girl. I
guess it takes a big hunk of man to handle me."
"Um, I forgot to ask earlier. Does he - - know?"
"About what? Oh, you mean the senshi thing? Yeah, I told him
before we moved in together."
"How did he take it?"
"He thought I was kidding at first. Of course, transforming
before his eyes kind of convinced him." Makoto searched for the
right way to convey her impressions. "He worries a little, which is
darling, but he understands. He knows what the senshi mean to Tokyo
and he's OK with that. Of course, we haven't had anybody like Sailor
Galaxia roar through here recently and put his understanding to the
test. But he understands. Don't let his exterior fool you, Ami.
San-san's really deep." Grabbing potholders, Makoto pulled the
roasted fish out of the oven. "Perfect! C'mon, Ames, dinner's
ready."
The three sat down to eat. Before starting, though, Makoto
poured out three glasses of fruit juice (in deference to Ami, who
didn't drink alcohol). With Ami and Sanjuro looking at her, Makoto
raised her glass.
"Good fortune to sick friends," Makoto said solemnly. "We
grieve for their losses and honor them with our loyalty and our
unity."
"Good fortune to them," Sanjuro echoed. Their glasses clinked.
"Well spoken, Makoto," Ami nodded. "Have you been to see her?"
"I was there a couple of hours before she went into surgery,"
Makoto replied. "She was pretty nervous, but she was holding up
pretty well. I keep waiting for her to go to pieces and it doesn't
happen. Sure, she's hurt, but she's bearing it with remarkable
strength."
"I know what you mean," Ami said. "I'd noticed a maturity in
the way she composed her letters, but I can't get over how much she's
grown psychologically. And yet, I'm struck by how much of the old
playfulness and charm she's retained. She's actually grown and I
think all I've done is gotten older."
"You're being too hard on yourself," Makoto smiled. "You're a
lot different from that wide-eyed little girl that went off to
England six years ago. You seem more sure of yourself." Ami
shrugged modestly.
"So have you visited Usagi?" Sanjuro asked. "I haven't known
her long, but she strikes me as the type that needs her pals around."
"Very true," smiled Ami. "I saw her after the surgery. She
was still pretty incoherent from the anesthetic. I talked to Mamoru
and he thinks the surgery went well. Her vitals were consistent with
that."
"You'd know," grinned Makoto. "All they are is lights on a
screen to me." Then she sobered. "I don't want to drag dinner down,
but - - could that sort of thing happen to me?"
Ami's brow furrowed.
"Nicely done," Sanjuro chided Makoto softly.
"It's all right," Ami said. "Miscarriage isn't something that
can be predicted one hundred percent. There are ways to reduce the
risk, but prevent it? I'm afraid not. But please don't let that
scare you away from having children. As you can see by the
population of the world, the odds are greatly in your favor."
Makoto nodded, embarrassed.
"Well," Sanjuro said brightly, "now that my wife-to-be has
brought things to a screeching halt - - seen any good movies?"
"Oh, shut up," Makoto said, her expression a mix of petulance
and humor. She playfully punched Sanjuro in the arm.
All through dinner, Ami kept a critical eye on Sanjuro and the
way he and Makoto interacted. Makoto's description of him was
accurate. Despite his size and his physical vocation, Sanjuro was
very articulate. He proved to be well versed in many of the arts,
and well enough read to hold his own in topical conversation. The
man also demonstrated a charmingly easy-going manner. He had his own
opinions, but was open to opposing views and on the whole acted very
calm and rational. The more time Ami spent with him, the easier it
was to accept him. His thick black hair and his sparkling violet
eyes didn't hurt either.
". . . and then Usagi said 'Hey, you two owe me!', so naturally
we had to go," Sanjuro laughed. "But we had a good time."
"Usagi said that before," Ami said. "What exactly do you owe
her?"
"Well she introduced us," grinned Makoto. "She never told you
the story?" Ami shook her head. "Well, about three years ago almost
Usagi was at the restaurant I cook at. This was when she was still
in art school. I was by the door to the kitchen - - she'd had a bowl
of soup and just HAD to come back and complement me on it."
"And get seconds," Sanjuro added. Ami smiled.
"So I'd just given her the soup," Makoto continued. "Which was
my first mistake, giving Usagi an entire bowl of soup to carry. And
she's chattering on and on, going on about how delicious it is. Of
course she's not watching where she's going and she turns right into
San-san, who just happened to be eating there and was headed for the
cashier to pay his check."
"Oh, no!" groaned Ami.
"You guessed it," nodded Makoto. "The bowl hits his arm and
soup splashes all over my blouse. Well instantly Usagi's on one side
of me, bowing and scraping, apologizing until she's blue."
"And I'm on the other side," smiled Sanjuro, "trying to
apologize, wondering if I should dare even touch her to try to wipe
the soup off her blouse. Then I begin to notice how attractive she
is."
"And I can see that by his expression. And I begin to notice
that he's kind of cute, too."
"Which I begin to pick up on. So, me being Mr. Smoothie, I ask
her if she'd allow me to make it up to her by taking her out to
dinner."
"Which is a line if I ever heard one," smirked Makoto. "But
there was something about the way he was looking at me that told me
to take a chance. Besides, you know how easy I am to impress. So I
agreed. And Ami, you should have seen Usagi. Her eyes were saucers,
but she had this ear to ear grin, too. From that moment on, she
needed daily updates from me on how we were doing. And when we fell
in love, she started saying we owed her - - and I guess we do,
because we never would have met if not for her."
"Oh, that story's wonderful!" grinned Ami.
"Yeah and Minako keeps threatening to sic her on Rei next,"
joked Sanjuro and all three broke up laughing.
When the meal was finished, Makoto gathered up the dishes, then
gave Ami a subtle nod toward the kitchen. Ami picked up on it
immediately and volunteered to help. Makoto put up a feeble protest
for the sake of appearances, then the pair adjourned to the kitchen.
"Well, what do you think?" Makoto asked excitedly.
"About Sanjuro?" Ami asked. Makoto nodded vigorously. "I'm
almost sorry I didn't find him first." Makoto's smile quickly spread
across her face.
"Yeah, he's a doll, isn't he?" Makoto grew somewhat
self-conscious. "I'm really glad you like him, Ami. Your opinion's
real important to me. Not that the others aren't, but, well, I've
always liked you a lot, Ami. And I really respect your opinion and
if you hadn't liked him I would have just died."
"Well, thank you. Makoto, I'm hardly an expert on the heart,
but you both seem very happy together. Sanjuro seems perfect. Is
there anything wrong with him?"
"Well," Makoto hesitated. "He drinks the milk straight out of
the bottle. And he watches too much sports. And he drapes his
clothes over a chair instead of folding them. And he pays way too
much attention to 'Dragon Courage Challenge' than I think he should,
and for all the wrong reasons." Makoto smirked. "But I think I can
live with that."
"And, I hope, for a long, long time," smiled Ami. She grasped
Makoto's hands in hers and Makoto seemed about to burst. "How are
the wedding plans going? Is there anything I can help with?"
"Everything's done and ready. Rei's got all the ceremony
details handled and my grandmother's handling everything else with
me." Makoto smiled wistfully. "Which is kind of nice, too, because
she and I haven't always had the greatest relationship. This kind of
makes up for some things that happened in the past." Makoto
brightened. "So all you have to do is be there."
"I will. And I'm very honored you consider me close enough to
be part of the ceremony."
"Ami, you're the sister I never had - - you and the others.
You guys got me through my teenage years. I'd probably be dead by
now - - or in prison or some other crummy fate if not for you four.
Everything I am I owe to you guys."
"That's not quite true," Ami smiled. "You're not giving
yourself and your own strength of character any credit. You would
have turned out just fine without us. But we're all richer for being
in each other's lives."
"Amen to that," Makoto smiled, her eyes misting. She put her
hand on Ami's shoulder and Ami put her hand over Makoto's.
* * * *
Usagi looked up from her drawing pad to see Setsuna standing
timidly in the doorway. With spirited animation, she waved the woman
in.
"I apologize for not being here sooner, My Princess," Setsuna
said, "but there were things I had to complete. Once they were
finished, I came straight from the university."
"You're here," smiled Usagi. "That's the important thing."
"It is times like these which make me yearn for closer lines of
communication between inner and outer senshi." Setsuna sat down on a
chair next to the bed. "My Princess, I grieve for your loss."
Usagi's smile grew melancholy.
"If it hurts to discuss it, we can move to other subjects."
"No, I should talk about it. It's going to hurt no matter what
I do, so I might as well get used to hurting when I talk about it."
Usagi looked down. "I miss her, Setsuna. It's weird. I've dealt
with death for years now. I've dealt with family dying - - or more
accurately not dealt with it - - because you're all my family and
I've had to watch you all die. But - - this is the first time I've
had to face how permanent it is. Because you all came back, and I
keep waiting for Kousagi to come back," and Usagi looked down, "and
she doesn't."
"It is a terrible burden to bear, some of the things we know
and see as senshi," Setsuna said. "While I cannot accurately know
the depth of your loss, I do have a sense of the permanence of death
and the weight of loss."
Usagi looked at her inquiringly.
"I, too, have not had normal dealings with mortality and the
passage of events," Setsuna told her. "As the years pass, my - -
sensitivity to the past and the future grows. I see things, in
dreams, that are past events I was not witness to when it happened,
as well as curious events that can only be the future, that only
sometimes come true. I have visions from time to time of terrible
tragedies in the past that have shaped our present. I see them as if
I had been there, though that is an impossibility, with all the
resulting carnage and loss of life. I have visions where I see
people I have known that are dead and gone as clearly as I see you
- - and I see people who might not be but for a single choice someone
will make. It is disconcerting - - but it is part of the price we
pay for being senshi."
"These people," Usagi asked. "Was one of them Kousagi?"
"I have not seen Kousagi," Setsuna said, then grasped Usagi's
hand firmly, "but if I do, I will pass along your love." Usagi
squeezed her hand in return.
"So, do you like teaching?" Usagi asked.
"It is not my life's ambition," admitted Setsuna, "but being
the assistant to Professor Shinjo is an excellent experience. He is
a very knowledgeable man and his theories in astronomy and the
physics of relativity are," and Setsuna paused to pin down the right
word, "invigorating."
"Is he cute?" Usagi asked, her "matchmaker's smile" on her
face.
"My Princess," Setsuna smirked, "he is twenty-five years my
senior."
"That doesn't answer the question," Usagi smirked back.
"Professor Shinjo is married," Setsuna informed her, "and even
if he were not, my romantic interests would lay elsewhere."
"Well, at least you have them," joked Usagi. "We were
beginning to wonder."
"Pay no attention to anything Michiru may intimate," Setsuna
playfully responded. She looked at the sketchpad. "Even in bed you
continue to draw?"
"I was bored," Usagi shrugged. "I told Himeko and this morning
she dropped off this pencil and sketch pad." She waved the pad,
opened to the center, at Setsuna. "I'm already half way through it.
And there are a few sketches in here that I might be able to make
into my own manga series."
"Can we see?" came a husky voice from the doorway. They looked
over and saw Haruka and Michiru. "Hi, Dumpling."
"We came as soon as we heard, but I was in Kyoto at a concert
date," Michiru said apologetically.
"You were?" Usagi asked. "Did Haruka play piano?"
Haruka shrugged, then grabbed Michiru around the waist. "You
know she's the only one I'll play piano for - - or wear that monkey
suit for, for that matter."
"Oh, I wish I could have heard it!"
Michiru smiled. "We're pressing a concert CD. I'll give you a
copy."
"Really? That's great! Mamo-chan really loves your music. I
do to, even though I really don't understand it."
"If you like it," Michiru said, "then you understand it. I'm
sorry about your loss, Usagi."
"Yeah, crazy world, isn't it," Haruka added. "So many people
who don't deserve kids get 'em and folks that do deserve 'em . . ."
Haruka's voice trailed off and she glanced at Michiru.
"I'll have my child," Usagi said. "I just have to be patient.
And I've told you two before, you could always adopt."
"Only after 'Daddy' chooses a safer profession," Michiru said,
snuggling up to Haruka. Haruka ignored the comment. "So let's see
this sketch you're so proud of."
"Are you sure?" Usagi asked. "I mean, I've never been able to
draw as well as you do."
"We all have our strengths, Usagi," Michiru smiled maternally.
"I've told you that before. You may not paint as well as I do, but
there's no way I could draw manga as well as you do."
Usagi blushed, flipped back a few pages, and then showed her
friends the sketch. On the page was a girl of about eight. Her hair
was done up in twin buns that resembled hearts, with ribbons of hair
flowing behind her. The child wore a uniform that consisted of a
tight-fitting white bodice with white puffed sleeves and a
heart-shaped pendant at the center of the chest, a dark mini-skirt
trimmed with heart patterns and calf high boots with heart patterns
on the toes. She carried a wand with a heart at the top and had the
most adorable face.
"Is this how you conceived of Kousagi when she would be eight?"
Setsuna asked. Usagi nodded self-consciously. "I notice a
resemblance to Chibi-Chibi."
"Really?" Usagi said and glanced at the page. "I guess so."
"What's with the uniform?" Haruka asked.
"Well, this little pink fairy comes to her one day and grants
her magical powers, but only so long as she uses them to bring peace
and happiness to the world." Usagi scowled. "It's sort of a
recycled concept. I was going to do it with wedding gowns, but
'Wedding Peach' beat me to it."
"Just how recycled is that concept? It sounds quite familiar,"
Michiru told her. Usagi blushed. "Well, they say write what you
know."
"I look forward to reading your first issue," Setsuna smiled,
patting her hand.
"Are all of you staying for the wedding?" Usagi asked.
"Are we invited?" Haruka asked.
"Of course you are!" Usagi huffed. "I know you and Makoto have
had your differences, but you're still part of the family and she's
not going to throw you out or anything!" Usagi rolled her eyes.
"Although if you don't mind your manners, Rei might."
"OK, Dumpling," chuckled Haruka. "You convinced me." She
turned to Michiru. "So, you want to go?"
"Of course! I love weddings!" Michiru smiled.
"We'll be there," Haruka told Usagi. "I'll even get dressed
up."
"Great, because you really look handsome in morning clothes,
Haruka," smiled Usagi. Then she sobered. "Or do I mean pretty?"
The three outers got a chuckle from that.
"I shall be there as well," Setsuna said. "And I will attempt
to look as pretty as possible."
"I'm not worried," grinned Usagi.
"Will you be out in time?" Haruka asked.
"Yeah. I get out tomorrow morning." Usagi rolled her eyes
again. "I wish I could get out now." Getting a sudden thought,
Usagi looked up at Haruka and Michiru. "Can you stay a little
longer?"
"Certainly," smiled Michiru.
"Great! You can tell me all about Kyoto! I've always wanted
to go there!"
Continued in part 5