This is a bit of a different fanfic than I'm used to writing. I thought it was an interesting premise, so I decided to write it. Here go the disclaimers: I don't own Sailor Moon, so don't sue me, yada yada yada…

Anyway, if you want to email me, it's at Guardian4@atlantic.net. However, PLEASE put Fanfiction or something like that in the subject line. I get a lot of junk mail and I may just delete it without reading it otherwise, though I won't mean to.

Onto the story…

Angelic Embrace

Part 1

Pluto had watched the time stream for a long time. Sailor Moon, fighting and finding friends. Beryl and Metallia, the Death Phantom, the Death Busters, the Dead Moon, and Galaxia. She had wanted it to happen all that way. She dropped to her knees and cried. This possibility had been so remote that she hadn't even entertained its likelihood. And now she was paying for it. Now Luna would not find the Princess and Sailor Moon, she wouldn't find the Senshi… She had tried so hard to make it and save the Princess before she was trapped, but in the end it had been for naught.

The Soldier of Time knew she would just have to wait it out, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Makoto trumped the man she was fighting and collected her winnings. She grabbed the army bag that she'd bought when she graduated high school and moved on. There were more tournaments out there for street fighters like her and no one had beaten her yet. She was a legend among them all.

Many had come to her to fight her and win, but none had. The amazing strength of her body, her lean grace, the swiftness of a panther striking, was not something that she had been taught nor could teach to anyone else.

For some reason, fighting relieved an ache in her heart that had been there since that fateful day she had collapsed outside of her junior high building, the night that she had dreamt of the bubble place. The memory hadn't left her, not at all, nor the insistent feeling that she was supposed to be doing something, finding someone.

"Jupiter!"

She turned around when someone called her street fighter name. No one she knew ever used their real names unless they were unbeatable, and though she was, she wasn't at the top of the list. She was climbing the rungs of the power ladder of street fighting quickly in recent years, but there was always something holding her back. As if she didn't want to get too involved in something and be forced to leave it. Why she felt this way, she didn't know.

A woman with olive green hair and dark skin walked up to her. Together, they meandered in silence.

Finally she commented, "I was watching you fight. You're very good at what you do."

"Thanks." She brushed her long brown hair from her face. "I try."

"In a few months, you might even be the greatest street fighter that has ever been seen."

"Hmm."

The woman wore sunglasses so Makoto couldn't see her eyes, but she felt the piercing gaze as the woman in the maroon suit looked at her. "You don't know how you do what you do, do you?"

Makoto shrugged. "Not really. Fighting is just a gift that I'm especially good at."

"Is that why you chose street fighting instead of, say, another career, perhaps culinary?"

Green eyes could be just as piercing, she thought, as she leveled one on the taller woman. "I suppose so," she said slowly, watching her suspiciously.

"Have you ever thought that maybe there was a higher purpose to your ability to fight than just the ability to fight for no reason?"

"Not really." Makoto's flat reply did not seem to faze her. "Look, I have to go. It was…strange talking to you." She didn't beat around the bush; if it wasn't nice talking to someone, Makoto never said it was.

As she picked up her pace, a hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a small alcove between two large buildings. Despite being a great street fighter and having amazing strength, she couldn't break out of the grip.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. I've waited for ten years; ten long years to do this and I am defying every rule ever placed upon me doing this, but I can wait no longer to release her. I hold the secret of your past. Why you fight so well, what is missing inside you, what makes your heart ache. Come to Japan, to this address where you will receive directions upon where to go next. This is only if you wish to know the things that have been bothering you."

The woman handed her a small business card and left, leaving Makoto behind, thunderstruck.

Slowly, Makoto opened the airport door. She had never been up on airports, but she had gotten over her fear of planes a while ago, though they still made her nervous. She'd had to leave it behind in order to get around to the other street tournaments.

Up on the electronic billboard that announced the flights, she scanned for one to Japan. Flight 271, China to Japan. Leaves at 3:30. She checked her watch. 3:00. If she wanted that flight, she would have to hurry and get a ticket. She would have to spend the money she just won to buy one though. She didn't have all that much in way of cash because she hadn't planned to leave China for at least a year, earning up funds to go the unofficial but greatest street tournament to be held in the U.S. the next year.

"May I help you?"

"I'd like a ticket to Japan."

"There is only one time today at 3:30. Would you like that flight?"

Makoto sighed. "Yes."

"That will be $450, please, for coach. How would you like to pay?"

"Cash." While Makoto dug in her army bag that she would sling over her shoulder when she walked, the clerk asked, "What is the name?"

"Kino. Kino Makoto."

There was the sound of long fake nails clicking on a keyboard for a moment. Makoto had just found her envelope of money and straightened up when the clerk surprised her.

"There is a ticket already paid for in full for you. It is a one-way ticket, a reserved seat in first class. Is this correct?"

Makoto looked surprised, but the image of the dark-skinned woman flashed before her eyes. How had she known that Makoto would accept her proposal? "Yes, that's correct."

The lady smiled at her and handed her the ticket. "Second terminal on your left."

When Makoto boarded the plane and was led to the first class department, she was dumbfounded anew. She had never flown first class before and had no idea what to expect. There were four other people flying with her, none she recognized. She was vaguely disappointed that the olive woman was not there.

"Here is your seat. Would you like some champagne?" asked the stewardess.

Makoto shook her head. What was with the strange woman? How had she known that the brown-haired woman would want a window seat? How had she paid for first class? How had she known she would accept? In all her 24 years of life, Makoto had never met such an enigma before.

Why had she done this? It was a simple answer, really. She couldn't help it. The questions that had plagued her for ten years could be answered now. The woman had said she had waited ten years and wouldn't wait any longer. Ten years for her, ten years for me, she thought. There's something in the number ten.

Drowsily, she put her head against the window and fell asleep. For the first time in ten years, she dreamed. She hadn't dreamed at all since that night, ten years ago. It all came down to ten.

She was dressed again strangely, like the last time which she remembered vividly. She attacked the barrier physically, but it simply repelled her. She gave a cry of frustration. She wanted with all her mind, heart, and soul to break through that barrier. A man in strange armor appeared to her left, his arms crossed and watching the barrier angrily.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice echoing dully.

"You cannot break the barrier, not by yourself. You have to have the others with you," he said, not looking at her. His midnight black hair fell over his rather cold, royal blue eyes.

"What others?"

Finally he turned to her and his eyes were no longer cold. They were pleading and sad. "She's waiting for you. You must hurry." Then everything began to fade away.

Makoto was jerked back to reality rather abruptly with someone's hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see a man with long brown hair and chocolate eyes staring at her compassionately yet worriedly. "Are you all right? You were screaming."

"I was screaming?" she repeated, surprised.

He sat down next to her. "It was low, so only the other four of us heard. We thought it best to wake you."

"Oh. Thank you. Do you all know each other?"

The man smiled and looked back at the other three people, all males she realized. "Yes. We've known each other since we were children." His face clouded with worry.

"What's the matter?" She felt it prudent to ask, since he had been kind to her, though she felt concerned deep in her gut anyway.

"We are going to visit a friend of Kris's."

"Who's Kris?"

The man leaned back so she could see and pointed to a tall, white haired man. She didn't understand why he had white hair, since he looked old not in the least. She smiled and turned back to the person sitting beside her. "K or C?"

"K."

"Aren't the girls the ones who spell Kris that way to distinguish themselves from the guys?"

Kris's ears turned red in embarrassment and he looked away. The other three males guffawed loudly at him. "Normally yes, but he wanted to be different, I guess. Either that or his mother was absolutely positive he was girl and already signed the birth certificate ahead of time.

"Actually, we call him that, but his given name on his birth certificate is Keagan. He prefers Kris. Personally I don't see why." He shrugged. "Kris is his middle name."

Makoto laughed. "I see. And your names are?"

He smiled. "Mine's Nick."

"Like the insect, Nat."

He glared at Kris, who had the temerity to make such a jibe. "Excuse me, it's Nick, NOT Nat. Just because they rhyme somewhat…" Makoto found herself quite comfortable in the atmosphere with these men, but she found the empty space in her heart that knew something like this was missing from her life.

He caught her wandering attention again when he pointed to another of his comrades with long blonde hair tied back with a green band. "That's Zale." He turned around and waved. His eyes sparkled like an emerald sea, with a deep seated humor that wasn't often displayed in public, she guessed.

"And the last of us, with the short blonde hair, is Jace."

A hand waved at her, but he didn't turn around.

"So who are you?" he asked, looking back at her.

She debated what name to say. Should she say her name or her street fighter name? "Makoto."

"Nice name."

"So why are you going to Japan?"

The mood instantly turned sober. Nick leaned back in his seat. "Kris has a friend that collapsed into a coma or something like it ten years ago when they were in high school together. He barely had the money to keep them from killing him, just putting him asleep. He was convinced that he could come back. Now me, Jace, and Zale haven't met him, but Kris dragged us all around the world, looking for something that would give him the money to keep supporting him. There was no reason for his collapse; he was in perfect health, so we heard. He was studying to be a doctor himself. Anyway, five years ago, Kris found a bank account that was left under a strange name to him. It contained all the money he'd need for what he wanted to do, so he's been doing that until now.

"Yesterday, he got a call in the U.S., where he was working (he owns a chain of banks, you know), saying that his friend has taken a turn for the worse. They have to restrain him in the bed because he sometimes thrashes about and when he does, he thrashes about right off the bed. He nearly broke his arm when he fell off. His muscles have atrophied so they can't soften his fall. Now we're going to meet him for the first time and see what's wrong."

She was silent for a moment. "What was the bank account name under? Just curiosity, you understand."

Nick looked at his friends and they looked back at him. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them. "We'd rather not tell at the moment. After all, we just met you." Kris's voice was unexpectedly deep and radiated a ring of authority.

She shrugged. "Okay. I can understand that."

A male flight attendant entered through the door leading to the coach class and brought a tray for the men. He took one look at her and gasped. She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"Jupiter!"

The four men looked at her sharply. She shrugged. "Yes?"

"I saw you fight! You're so awesome! I wish I could do something like you do! You're unbeatable! Can I have your autograph?"

Makoto looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Not right now. Maybe later." When hell freezes over. She didn't want publicity, she wanted answers.

The man moved away, a little disappointed and more than enormously awestruck. She looked out the window, but the stares of the males finally made her look at them. "What?"

"Jupiter?" repeated Jace, who had finally turned around and looked at her. His eyes were a pale blue color, a shade darker than the sky.

She shrugged again. "Look, I'm a street fighter. No one uses their real names unless they are on the top rung of the ladder. I'm not, though I haven't been defeated since I started, six years ago, when I graduated high school. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my name."

They exchanged glances and nodded. Makoto looked back out the window and her eyelids began to droop, but she didn't sleep. Maybe the frustration she felt when she had attacked those bubble like things in her dream was what made her always fighting better people.

She slowly slipped into REM and she dreamed again. A woman in a white dress with a crown on her head stood next to a blonde-haired girl with a crystal in her hand. She too wore a white dress. She smiled when she looked at Makoto.

"Jupiter…"

She woke with a start, the jolt of the plane informing of her of its intent to land. She was buckled in her seat, but Nick was not next to her. He must have buckled her seatbelt for her before he moved again. He was reading a magazine, sitting next to Kris. Zale and Jace sat in the row ahead of them, an empty seat between them.

She attempted to stretch, but found it rather difficult with the tight seatbelt. It was night, the buildings windows winking light around her. Makoto felt a feeling of homecoming and a terrible, sickening sadness. She hadn't been back to Japan in five years, not since the last big tournament that had been held there. Why did she feel as if there was something she was supposed to do there?

When the plane bumped to a stop, she undid her seatbelt, grabbed her bag from the compartment above her head, and bolted for the door to escape the man who wanted her autograph. She breathed in the night air, letting the wind blow her hair back from its restricting ponytail.

"Makoto!"

She turned and watched as Nick jogged up to her, followed more sedately by his friends. She couldn't dismiss the feeling that they weren't telling her everything. "Where are you going?"

She shrugged. "Check into a hotel for the night and…go where I'm supposed to in the morning."

"Huh? Why did you come to Japan anyway?"

"To find some answers," she said flatly.

"Do you want to share a room with us? It wouldn't be a problem, you know," he said eagerly.

She looked at him in surprise, but shrugged. "Okay."

As they walked to the airport exit, Kris hissed to his friend, "What's wrong with you? Why do you want her to come with us so badly?"

Nick checked to make sure she couldn't hear him and then turned to him, his social attitude disappearing in an instant to the reserved and rather grim man he was. "Because of 'Jupiter'."

"I see we're thinking along the same lines," said his friend Zale.

"Why did you tell we didn't know Mamoru?" asked Jace, watching the back of Makoto closely.

"Call it a feeling."

The four men walked on in silence, watching the tall brunette.

End of Part 1