Violence

"Don't you have any sense!" Chief Harris roared at his younger son. The boy cowered on the polished office floor where he had knelt to pick up the broken vase's shards. He was a slim young man, barely an adult, and had a slight mental imbalance. His brown hair was disarrayed and his eyes were afraid behind askew glasses. "You're such an idiot!"

Mrs. Harris covered her son's ears, angry. "Don't tell him that! It was just an accident!" She had soft brown curls falling to her shoulders and a kind, faintly lined face. Her pretty violet eyes were now narrowed at her husband. "He's a good boy – he can't help the way he is."

"He's a fool," his father spat. He glared at the tears growing in his son's eyes and made a disgusted noise. "I don't have time for this," he said, turning away. "I have to find something to get rid of those Senshi once and for all."

Mrs. Harris stroked her son's hair and he climbed to his feet. "Don't worry about this, I'll clean it up," she sighed, looking at the mess. She glanced at her son. He was staring at the ground in pain, and her heart went out to him. "He says things he doesn't mean when he's angry. He'll apologize later," she assured him, knowing from her own experience. She knew that he said cruel things when he was drunk as well, but this time he was only stressed. She was glad, though, that he only drank at night, when her sons were in bed, so that they had never seen him in that state. No, that honor was for her alone. And she had accepted the fact that while he was rougher and meaner in bed when he drank, he had never become painfully violent.

She lived with it for the sake of her younger son, who could not move out and live his own life like his older brother had.

"I'm sorry," he said, and stared blankly at the files on his father's desk while his mother went to get a broom and dustpan. The tears slipped unchecked down his cheeks – he had forgotten he was even crying, and he read the titles of the reports. "Sailor Venus," "Sailor Mars," Sailor Mercury," and "Sailor Jupiter." There were even files on the king and queen. He tilted his head, thoughts clicking together slowly, and a final tear dripped onto the desk.

"The Sailor Senshi," he whispered. Father hated the Sailor Senshi. So if he got rid of them . . . Father would love him.

The thin brown-haired boy slipped out the door past his mother, broom and dustpan in her hands and rag covering her tidy hair.

"Phil?" she called after him as he trotted down the hall, opened the front door, and went into the sunshine. "Phil, where are you going?"

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Makoto twisted work-rough hands in her skirt as she waited. Lunch and cleanup were done, and the staff had already left the kitchens for their break. The room was bright and cheerful, which bellied the eerie emptiness of its abandonment.

She had strained her ears for the knock for so long that it startled her when it came. Her breath rapid, she opened the door.

Flowers were promptly thrust at her.

"Roses," she breathed, taking them and turning to find a vase. "I love roses."

"I thought you would," Nephrite replied, following her inside. He had considered daisies, but decided not to take any chances when this woman's graces were his only key into the castle. Now that he saw her, though, he was doubly glad he had spent more on the roses. She was in a pale green summer dress with a wide belt and broad-brimmed hat. Her calves were smooth and round and her hair waved free down her back.

She was beautiful.

"Let's go," she smiled after the roses were arranged properly. Nephrite could only nod his reply.

They went to lunch in a charming little café that Makoto had recommended, right next to the castle. It wasn't very expensive, had a beautiful view, and boasted some of the best pastries in Tokyo.

Nephrite, happier than he could remember being in a long time, was in the process of putting a creme puff into Makoto's mouth when both of their cell phones rang.

"Damn," he muttered, and took the call.

Brown, Chief Harris's voice came in, strong and demanding, there's a monster downtown. The senshi are likely to be there and I want you to take some pictures.

"I'm on it," he replied, and sighed as he hung up. "Makoto," he started to apologize, but she was already standing and grabbing her purse.

"One of the assistant chefs had an accident," she said. "I have to take off, I'm sorry."

He only nodded dumbly and watched her catch a Taxi before calling for the bill and rushing to his own car.

It was odd, though, how she'd been called away at the same time he had. But he shook the feeling of absurdity off and sped up, praying the traffic light gods would be kind.

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Downtown Tokyo sparkled in the sunlight. Housewives were shopping and business men were out for lunch. Buildings reflected the sunlight into all the dark places, and people were content as they crossed the street.

So it was with confusion that people looked at the shadow falling over them, and with horror that they looked at the creature that made it.

The Senshi made record time of slipping into their armor and getting to the scene. The police were already there, they noted, and releasing full clips into the thing without any visible result. Some of the police were helping civilians to get out of the fire zone, and Venus was distressed to see that Kunzite was among the former and not the latter.

Then they saw the bodies.

"God," Jupiter whispered, horror-struck. There weren't a lot of bodies, but Mercury's computer pronounced them definitely dead. Men in suits, women in charming dresses, a little boy, a pregnant woman . . .

And in the middle of them, a ten foot monster, black and sharp with its cutting hands and loose, heavy jaw.

"Kill it," Venus ordered, her voice strangled, and then they were moving like a smooth fleet of birds, surrounding the monster and thankful for the bullet proof properties of their armor -- because the policemen didn't stop in their fire.

"Mercury, give me an analysis! Jupiter, Mars, double attack!" Venus cried out and blasted the thing with a low-power Crescent Beam to get it away from the policemen. Jupiter and Mars got ready, and Venus tried to get the thing annoyed enough to come for her so her friends could blast it.

A swirl of fire and lightning hit it in the stomach, but it only stopped to let out a howl and then bared its thick, heavy teeth. It was mad.

"That spot on its forehead! The inverted moon -- aim for it!" Mercury yelled. Venus nodded and got a full Crescent Beam ready -- she didn't think Jupiter or Mars could hit it full power for another few minutes after their attack.

She was concentrating so hard on her attack that she didn't notice the policemen firing at the monster again -- so that when the monster snatched one of the uniformed men and held him ready to throw at her, she had just released her Crescent Beam.

It hit the monster in the symbol on its head -- but it had to go straight through the policeman to get there.

The Sailor Senshi stood in shock as the monster fell and the policeman's hat fell off.

Brown hair, Venus noted without actually thinking about it. She couldn't think about anything.

The monster dropped and the man fell -- Venus couldn't feel her feet moving, but she found herself catching him and lowering him gently to the ground.

She was numb as she took her right glove jerkily off and felt for a pulse. Mercury was immediately beside her, searching for his vitals.

"There's nothing," she whispered, and took Venus' shaking white hand from his neck. His eyes were blank and cold, and there was a gaping hole burnt through his chest.

Tears fell behind her face mask. "Kevin. . . ." she whispered.

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Back at the castle, Venus vomited. When she had been so unwilling to move, Mars had taken charge of the situation and ordered the policemen back while she and Jupiter forced Venus to stand and supported her as they walked back to the castle. Venus was lost to their voices, and all she could see was Kevin's lifeless body.

The queen sat in Minako's room with the other three senshi, waiting for Venus to empty her stomach. She fingered her staff, a nervous habit she'd developed long ago, and her eyes were pensive.

None of the Sailor Senshi had ever killed a human.

What was she going to do? Serenity wondered as her distressed eyes met Minako's. That blue was so dull now -- hair flat and sparkle gone completely from her body as she leaned limply against the bathroom's doorway.

What was she ever going to do?

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She wore a red gown, her hair was up, and diamonds sparkled from the soft, elegant mass. She kept her makeup plain, with a soft lipstick and feathery red eyeshadow.

She was elegant, mysterious, and very worried.

"Want to tell me about it?" the man behind the wheel inquired softly.

"Tell you about what? I'm fine," she lied. He only gave her a brief Look and then turned back to traffic.

"We have about ten minutes before we get there. So spill."

How can I tell you that one of my best friends killed a man today and now we can't find her? she asked silently. What she said out loud was, "Should we really be going out tonight? What happened to your friend this morning was . . . bad." She knew that she was saying it because she needed to know what he thought of the Senshi, and know if he was a threat, but she still felt bad for doubting him.

He was silent, frowning, for a long moment. "I actually didn't know Kevin all that well." There was another long pause and he smiled wryly at her, "Besides, I couldn't give up these reservations."

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asked, a frown creasing its way in between her eyebrows. She glanced over at Jadeite and took in the sight of his JC Penny blazer and navy blue tie. She was pleased to see that it wasn't a clip-on, but was used to elaborate tuxedos when someone told her it was a "black tie" evening.

"It's a surprise," he smiled, and she managed to pick up a bit of anxiety from the way he held his body. The face might lie, but the body never did.

It was their fifth date. She could tell that he knew she wasn't madly in love with him, but that he also didn't know why she kept going out with him. So while he was confused, he held onto enough hope and didn't allow himself to worry about it.

"We're here," he said, and got out, handing his keys to a valet and hurrying around to open Rei's car door. When she stood up and looked at him in wonder, her hand still in his, he smiled brilliantly. "You said you liked French."

It was one of the most expensive restaurants in Tokyo. You paid for the water and left outrageous tips -- and the only people who came here where the ones who could afford to leave outrageous tips. The retired community, mainly. The Senshi had nights out there on occasion -- sometimes even the King and Queen were known to make an appearance, though that had been less and less since Princess Serenity had been born, a few hundred years ago.

She was speechless for another moment, riotous thoughts running through her head -- how was he going to pay for this! -- but the hope and heartbreaking worry in his eyes put those thoughts on hold and she smiled softly at him, determined to make this evening worth his every effort.

So she took his arm and they went inside.

When the maitre'd saw her, he completely ignored Jadeite and came up to kiss her on both cheeks. "Madamoiselle Hino! We're honored to have you back! Would you like your usual table?" She was vaguely annoyed with him when she saw that Jadeite had shrunk back a little and was blushing, so she stepped back and swung him forward a little.

"Actually, my gentleman has reservations." The maitre'd looked at Jadeite and fought against disdain for Madamoiselle Hino's sake.

Jadeite gave his name and used his free hand to adjust his tie self-consciously. They were led back to a table by a wall with no spectacular view and the maitre'd asked again if Madamoiselle Hino would like her regular table, looking at the reserved one and frowning.

Aware that the man was making her date uncomfortable, she gave him her coldest look and replied with a firm and final "No."

When she turned back to Jadeite, he wasn't looking at her and she didn't need to probe him to tell that he was ashamed. Ashamed of his discount clothing when she wore a $2,000 gown, ashamed at having to save up for a month to buy her this dinner, and ashamed of the fact that it was still nothing new to her, that she was a regular customer here and that he would never be rich or charming enough to make her look at him like he looked at her.

Rage suddenly bubbled in her chest -- not at him, or even herself, but at circumstances that made him feel like he was less than she was or the other people in the restaurant. Mad at the maitre'd, at fancy restaurants, and policemen's wages. Mad and furious, and when he looked up, he saw that, and opened his mouth to apologize, on the verge of helpless tears . . .

And she kissed him.

When they parted, she whispered, "Do you want to get out of here?"

He didn't put up much protest when she took his hand and led him out of the restaurant. The maitre'd looked upset, but she ignored him.

Outside, they turned to each other at the same time. "I'm sorry," they said in unison, and then both smiled.

"You go," he said, blushing.

"I'm sorry he was so rude to you. This is my favorite restaurant – or at least it was." She frowned, brooding at the door, and then looked back at Jadeite, stepping closer to him and smiling. "I do appreciate this."

"Well," he ran a hand through his hair. "I was hoping this would be a nice evening." He looked miserable.

Rei looked at him and got an idea. Coolly, she told the hovering valet that they wouldn't need the car and led Jadeite around the building. "They have a lovely view," she told him, and they walked toward the railing that overlooked the lake. The sky was black and starless thanks to the city's lights, but Tokyo glittered off of the water in sweet ripples and cast the light, washed clean, back up to them.

"Rei," he said, turning and taking her hands, "I'm sorry. I really was hoping tonight would be nice, and . . . romantic, and . . ." She lay a finger over his lips, and her eyes were warm. His heart skipped a beat when he saw how she was looking at him.

"I've been taken to dinner by men before, Jadeite," she said, and he moved away from her finger before he did something embarrassing like kiss it. "But they've always been well able to afford it."

"I know," his eyes were closed in pain.

She gripped his chin and made him look at her. "It never really cost them anything. So it never meant that much. But you . . . This is the first time a man has tried to give me something he couldn't get easily." She put her hand on his cheek and he leaned into it. "Thank you."

He smiled a little and his watch beeped the hour. "Oh," he said dumbly, snapped out of his trance, and then was caught by the softly glowing lights beneath them. "Wha-?"

Rei laughed and he looked at her sly, knowing eyes.

And then tall streams of water shot up like geysers from beneath them and filled the air, dying down to leap back up into magical patterns, and Rei grabbed his hand and pulled him in a wild dance through it.

"Your dress!" he cried, worried about the satin and silk, and she swung him around and kissed him before twirling joyfully in another bout of the spray. Her dress was dark and clinging to her long, slender body in only moments. And Jadeite was pulled along, dancing with her in an elegant swoop while water shot up at them from the gently glowing ground and the lake lapped softly beneath them.

The valets stared as the couple came back, laughing, and requested Jadeite's car. Several of the men couldn't help admiring the way Rei's wet dress clung to her curves or how her dark hair was plastered to the long column of her throat, but none of them could have taken her attention from her companion for any amount of trying.

"I hope you don't mind your car getting wet," she said as she slid in.

He looked at her with laughter and sweetness in his eyes, and said that nothing could bother him less.

When he got home after dropping her off at the apartment building she'd said was hers, he saw something glinting in her seat. He picked up a hairpin. Curious, he held it by the long end and ran the jewel across his window.

When he brought it back, he saw a long, faint scratch in the glass.

Once again readjusting his views on her wealth, he sat back in his seat and sighed.

"Diamonds. Damn." He blew out a long breath, and it was several minutes before he could bestir himself to go inside.

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Kunzite was lying on his couch, staring up at the ceiling when the knock came. He'd been in that position for an hour and vaguely debated ignoring the knock, but sighed and rolled off the couch when it came a second time – soft and somehow unhappy.

When he opened the door to Minako, he was immediately concerned. Everything around her was dull and wilted, and her eyes were far too tired. She looked up at him and spoke in a voice he barely recognized.

"Can I stay the night here? On your couch – or the floor, if you like." He moved and she stepped in, looking around dimly as if expecting someone to come out and slap the last clinging remnants of dignity from her. "I just can't stay at home." She looked up at him, her sad eyes too weary to beg his understanding.

He touched her arm gently, reassuring her. "I'll get you a pillow."

By the time he returned, she was asleep on his couch, dry tear tracks on her cheeks. He put the pillow near her hand and spread a warm blanket over the rest of her. Instead of wishing her nice dreams or kissing her forehead goodnight, he only took one last look at her, sighed, and turned out the apartment lights.

He wasn't glad she felt safe enough to come to him – he was more content. Wearily content.

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In the morning, Minako accepted the coffee Kunzite handed her and sipped at it slowly as he sat beside her. She was wrapped up in the blanket she'd slept under and he was worried about the darkness under her eyes and the small tremors around her mouth. He'd never seen her look so vulnerable. He hadn't realized it before, but no matter what she was doing, she had always carried an air of confidence and inner strength. Even when she'd been mugged, it wasn't this bad.

He watched her carefully as she grimaced. "This coffee is kind of weak," she frowned.

Kunzite was surprised and let out a low, soft laugh. He'd made it weaker than he was used to for her comfort, but it was still fairly strong by normal standards. "I agree." He smiled down at her until she smiled back – a weak smile, but an honest one nonetheless.

She handed her cup back to him, still smiling. "Then make more – and make it better."

He nodded stoutly and fled to his task. As he poured out the old coffee and measured a whole new filter of it, he knew that he wanted to make her smile again. He mused over how to do that as the coffee percolated.

"Can I talk to you for a little?" Kunzite turned around as Minako took a seat at his small table. It just barely fit in his miniature kitchen and one of the legs lapped over onto the living room carpet.

"Of course," he replied, leaning against the counter.

She didn't look at him, just picked at a small piece of rice that had dried onto the table. "I didn't really know Kevin that well," she said after a long while. "My friends knew it – I only went out with him for my own reasons. I didn't really care about him. And when he died . . . everybody felt bad for me, but they knew I hadn't been in love with him. So they just felt bad for me, and even though they didn't treat me like a heartbroken widow, like some others do, they didn't really mourn for him. They think I'm the one with the problems and I don't even think they've considered him – they don't care that he's dead, only that it has some kind of an impact on me. And I keep thinking about it and, you know, I was starting to like him. I let him tell his friends what he wanted about us, but after the first attack . . . I just got to see more and more of his decent side and even though I was still going to break up with him, I . . . respected him." She looked up at Kunzite, her eyes pained. "But my friends don't understand. I can't even really explain it. I feel bad that he's dead, but they just feel bad for me. And I wish that they'd feel a little bit bad for him because he's dead and I'm not. . . ." The tears fell down her cheeks and Kunzite's heart twisted in his chest.

He placed his arms around her awkwardly and stroked her hair like his mother used to do for him. It had been a very long time since he'd last had to comfort someone – and it had never been like this. He just wasn't the comforting kind. Kate took care of the emotional part of things at work, and no one had ever bothered to see if he knew how to make anyone feel better.

"I feel so bad, Kunzite," she whispered. "I feel so bad. He died and he didn't even know that I didn't love him."

"Is that a bad thing?" he whispered back, into her hair.

She sniffled and laughed a little, mirthlessly. "I thought you were going to say what my friends would say." Her laughter was painful to him. It had a sharp, despairing edge. "They'd probably tell me that my love isn't worth that much anyway." They wouldn't have said it. It was the kind of thing they teased each other about – the kind of thing they said when things were going splendidly, and that none of them took to heart. They were fun things to make the others chase you around in the hot tub, trying to dunk your head under, and inspired dashes through the palace's hallways with pillows waved in laughing anger. But now the edge of those long-remembered barbs stuck in her chest and made it hard to breathe.

"Then those friends aren't worth your time," he replied, looking hard into her eyes. "You're a wonderful woman, Minako, and you shouldn't let anyone belittle you."

She smiled, softly, painfully, and felt compassion for his ignorance. Her friends made her feel awful sometimes – they didn't always say or do the right things for each other – but family never was perfect. And he had no idea how much they meant to her.

"They're not so bad," she whispered, smiling a little in earnestness, and buried herself in his arms. "Just hold me?"

"Okay," he whispered into the coffee-soaked air. "As long as you want, Mina-chan."