The Thaw
A new day was sunny and clear. Winter's last hurrah was already giving way to sweet spring. Usagi woke up in Mamoru's bed—an exquisitely pleasant way to wake up—and followed her nose to the kitchen.
"Mm, that coffee smells amazing! French press today?" She went to Mamoru at the stove and hugged him from behind. "You got up early today."
"I had the most amazing dream," he said to her, "but it ended early, and I couldn't go back to sleep."
"Tell me all about it," Usagi said. "Wait—are you making pancakes? Pancakes, Mamo-chan!" Her entire face lit up with delight.
"It's a celebration," Mamoru said. "Just for the two of us."
"Inspired by that dream?" Usagi went to get out the silverware.
"Sort of." Mamoru smiled. "I dreamed about one of the Generals. Nate and I were walking in this pure white landscape, like blank paper, and we were climbing and descending hills, until we came to the shore of a lake—and Usagi, he was there, and I knew him. One of my Generals, waiting for me."
"Aw, that's wonderful, Mamo! Maybe you'll meet him today!"
"Oh, I don't know," Mamoru said, plating Usagi's breakfast. "He didn't know me. There's so much that's up to chance…"
"I'm sure it'll work out," Usagi assured him. It was hard to take her seriously the way she kept dancing in her chair at the prospect of fresh pancakes with whipped cream, but Mamoru had the knack. "You'd be surprised how much things can change in two days!"
At that moment, Mamoru's phone buzzed.
It was a text message from Nate, with a somewhat delirious air of happiness about it: "I had the craziest dream last night and Mako says I should tell YOU because you were IN it, and there was another guy there, and I felt like I KNEW him, and Mamoru, does this mean that guy Ami met is the real deal?"
The real deal sneezed three times in rapid succession. "Bleurgh," said Zander.
His head cleared, and he realized he was sitting on his balcony, staring at the horizon. How long had he been sitting there? What time was it? Zander checked his phone, blanched, and staggered back into his apartment. He blessed the sneezes that had woken him from whatever trance he'd been in. He ran the water in the bathroom sink for a minute, then splashed his face when the water was hot. Good and hot.
Merde, that cold just would not leave him.
He pulled out his jacket (still wrinkled from the hours on the plane) and wrapped it tight around himself. Gloves, too— nevermind what the weather report said. He grabbed his decorated satchel and swung it onto his back as he hurried out the door.
"How am I possibly going to focus after remembering everything?" he asked himself.
"School will be good," thought a part of him that had the air of a very wise older brother. "Otherwise I'd just be in my room drowning in memories—"
One word had been terribly wrong. Zander stumbled on his way down the stairs; he leaned against the wall and tried to remember he was breathing air, not water; his fingers were NOT freezing together; he was not drowning, not drowning.
His satchel came off— it was constricting his breathing. Zander held the satchel and studied the delicate cherry blossoms painted on its black surface. Exquisite things— Zander's favorite flower. His last lover, a tall and disciplined Spaniard named Julio, had painted the flowers himself. A going away present, a conciliatory gift after their less-than-amicable breakup. Zander counted the flowers, then the petals, until his breathing eased.
"I'm real," he muttered to himself. "I'm real, I'm real, I'm real."
When he was calmed, he resumed his march downstairs. He looked around the damp street and his fellow pedestrians with more than an artist's interest. At all costs, he had to stay rooted in the present moment. Tokyo, early twentieth-first century, not Ur in the Silver Millennium. (Make that, the site where the city of Ur would eventually be built. All the more reason to stay in the present.)
"School will be good," he said to himself. "School will be good."
Zander reached his classroom early and set up his things. He watched his fellow students arrive. Friends chatted to each other, and suddenly Zander felt a stab of homesickness, and not for Geneva. Suddenly he was missing his brothers—from a thousand years ago— men that he had never met, but their names rang in his soul:
Kunzite. Jadeite. Nephrite.
Endymion.
Had they been reborn, too? What if they hadn't? … no, no, if Zoisite had been reborn, of course the others were, too. There was nowhere his soul could go that was not bound to theirs.
But… why? Why give them a second chance, after what they had done? They had broken their vows. That Endymion would be reborn, why, that only made sense, if anyone was handing out reincarnations. Give the Prince a second chance at happiness. But why give that chance to the Four Generals, when they had made such a disaster of their first chance?
The Moon… the goddess of the Moon… was it her will? Who else would have the power?
Zander got out his sketchbook and a pencil. He flipped to a fresh page and began to draw. A third of his fellow students were similarly engaged. For some reason that grounded Zander a little further in the present moment. He drew… as the teacher entered and started the class properly… and he drew…
Zander drew a monster. The thing looked to be wrought of twisting cherry boughs and knives. A great gashing wound had torn out its heart; under a snarl of copper wires, its eyes were green and insane.
When the monster was complete, about ready to dance off the page, only then did Zander really exhale.
When the art class ended, Zander emerged, blinking, into a brilliant day. His head spun; when was the last time he had eaten? Long ago and far away, a package of instant noodles danced in his head. He asked a fellow student the way to the cafeteria. He was passing under a cherry tree, whose boughs were just beginning to show their creamy blooms, when a glint of azure caught his eye. He knew her: her stature, her fashion, her hair—
"Ami?" Zander called out, before he could think better of it.
She stopped, and turned to him. "Zander!" Her posture went rigid and a flush bloomed on her face.
"Ami, I—I'm sorry about yesterday," he said. "Whatever it was I said, I didn't mean any offense."
She glanced up at him. He could almost see the light going out, politeness standing in for feeling. It wrenched his heart. "I know you didn't," she said.
"If I can be of any help—just ask for me, okay?"
She nodded, her eyes scanning his face—he must look a fright. "Okay."
Zander made up his mind. "Well, I'm off to the cafeteria!" he said brightly.
"Have a good meal!" Ami said with a fixed smile.
He bowed to her and turned deliberately towards the cafeteria. She didn't want him around. That much was clear. If his hand snuck up to grip his jacket tightly, above his heart, there was no one to observe. The bell inside his head kept tolling: "Love is not for the likes of you. Ami's sweet and brilliant and pure, and you? After how you betrayed your Prince? Betrayed your lover? You lost the right to that kind of happiness."
Ami hurried through the crowds. Zander's face was clear in her recent memory. He looked haunted—that was the word for it, haunted. Had he remembered? Had the seal on his memory cracked further, now that he was in Japan?
Had meeting her had something to do with it?
Ami was letting down the entire field of quantum mechanics. Of course the act of observing changes the thing observed. She should have thought of that before.
On the other hand, this wasn't exactly confirmation. Zander Hervieux could have just had a really (really) bad night.
On the first hand, if he was Zoisite, then this was another tick of proof.
"I need more data," she said to herself.
"You can't hide behind data-compiling forever," Mercury warned her.
"I am not stalling, I am thinking it through—"
She jumped at the buzz of her cell phone. It was a relief to check her messages: it stopped her arguing with herself. Not only arguing with herself, but losing.
"Ami-chan," came a message from Usagi, "Mamoru and Nate have talked it over and they want to meet your Swiss friend. Like, the boys had the exact same dream last night—THAT'S A SIGN! M & N want to meet [Swiss flag emoji]; Mamo wants to talk to you, says he knows there's History there, he just wants advice. Call Mamo-chan, & have a great day! [sunshine emoji] [cherry blossom emoji] [bunny emoji]"
Despite herself, Ami smiled as she crossed out of campus. "There's History there," yes, "History" with a capital H was the most tactful way to say "he murdered you in cold blood after stealing your heart and breaking his vows."
It could have been worse. Mamoru could have blithely asked Ami to be a go-between.
Wait, how had Mamoru found out that they had History? Had Endymion known of his generals' love affairs? Or had Usagi told him in this lifetime?
Unbidden, there came the image of Mamoru and Nate at a 90's-tastic slumber party, trading gossip over pints of quality ice cream.
Ami knew she was stalling again. She had a new piece of datum: Mamoru and Nate had psychically shared a dream. That was indeed a strong argument in favor of the idea that another general had made his appearance. Under the name Alexander, pen name Zed, a musician who painted—or perhaps an artist who sang—
Ami's feet started to stride, and then to run. Originally she had set out for home, but she changed her direction and made for the Command Center, under Game Center Crown.
Evening fell over Tokyo, and Zander watched the sky. When the sun fully set, he let out a deep sigh of relief.
It had been one lousy day.
He wandered the streets in search of a karaoke bar. He had a tightness of grief in his chest, and it wanted expression. Maybe an hour or two of belting out tragic songs would ease him.
From a skyscraper's edge, the moon appeared. Zander stopped in his tracks. A memory stirred: a dim, flickering recollection of the Moon Princess, who had seemed as gossamer as moonlight itself. She came to mind like a silhouette in reverse, a white figure against shadows; pearls, lace, tulle. Her hair had been tied in two buns at her crown, like bunny ears—but with long tails falling past her knees. A distinctive hairstyle.
Zander choked on his own spit. Sailor Moon. How could he not have realized sooner… she was only the mascot superhero of the city…
With her team.
With Sailor Mercury…
The one armored in blue, always hanging back a little, with that observing look in her eyes. "She's alive," Zander thought. The thought awoke neither joy nor anger—surprise, and a certain exhaustion. This day was only getting lousier.
"How do I feel about this?" he wondered.
He looked up, and the karaoke bar was just ahead.
Zander hurried towards the red awning. "How do I feel about this? I have two hours to figure that out."
Ami didn't stop until she was sitting at the supercomputer, beneath Game Center Crown. Only when her objective was complete and the pounding of her pulse could fill her ears could she let in the mantra that every beat of her heart sent out:
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
Ami inhaled deeply, and unlatched a metal gate in her head, and the floodwaters came pouring in. The thoughts and memories of Mercury.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
For once, Ami did not ask why. She knew. Ami clenched her hands and froze her blood with hatred.
He had broken his vows to his Prince.
He had broken his vows to her.
He had murdered her.
"But I had my revenge." Ami was suddenly sure of that. A grim ribbon of satisfaction would through her.
"All that hate is a lot to carry around," came a small, sad observation.
The floodwaters receded. Ami exhaled and relaxed her tense muscles. She sent an inquiry into the depths of her mind. The supercomputer did not have much information about the end of the Silver Millennium— but Mercury remembered.
"Tell me."
Ami had tapped this question once, a long time ago. That was how she had learned that there are some things it is truly better not to know.
Ten thousand years ago…
She had been skimming over the ice on the Sea of Serenity. Gathering intelligence on the Enemy. Her quiet wrath had frozen over the water's surface as far as the eye could see.
He had snuck up on her.
He had shown himself for a coward, at the last: a thrown knife, coated with poison, in the back. Until that moment she'd always had an iota of hope. Not for him, no, he was dead to her; but hope that she and her sisters might make it out alive. But the knife sank into her back and she fell hard against the ice and she felt the venom entering her bloodstream and she thought "Their first strike is against the brains. Of course," and "I should have been smarter."
And Zoisite had approached her with a spring in his step. Her blood spread over the ice, and her legs were completely numb, and he wanted to gloat.
He began to talk.
Silently, she cast a spell…
Under Zoisite's feet, the ice shattered. He fell into the water with a small splash. As he struggled, a wave of blistering cold water surged up and dragged him down, and Mercury did not close her eyes until the ice forming over his head was as solid as a true love's vow, and the pounding at the bottom of the ice had ceased. Only then did Mercury permit herself to die.
She screamed. Through clenched jaws, her scream forced its way out. She fell to her hands and knees on the floor of the Guardians' headquarters, and tears blocked her vision.
"I hate him," she blurted.
The wave began to subside. Ami returned to herself: as she inhaled (to the count of eight) and exhaled (to the count of eight) she had the feeling of being a raincloud that fell, cold and drizzling, on a seething lake. She did not try to stand, not yet. "Hatred is a waste of energy. Mercury and I are different people. And Usagi wants her Guardians to forgive."
"Easy for the Princess to say," came a voice from the lake's depths. The otherworldly one, ancient beyond calendars, she who bestowed the weapons of Mercury. "She doesn't understand. Her lover didn't betray her. Incidentally, it's impossible to live up to the Princess's standard of goodness."
But— "I don't want to hate eternally," Ami said. She stood up; ran her hands over her face. "I knew that this day was coming. I told myself I would be smart, I would handle it rationally. I'm not going to be distracted—" she began to pace. "I will… keep my distance. I will observe. I will study him, and—my enemy. He is my enemy."
Ami's pacing ended by a hallway niche holding a white statue of Queen Serenity.
Ami stared at the piece, about two feet in height, and idly contemplated smearing it with mustard. It… wasn't… fair. Zoisite would return, yes, she had reconciled herself to that murderer ending up in her life again. But for him to come back like this? To waltz in and steal her friend? Her pen pal? Her Zander?
And yet…
Now that Silver Millennium memories were dancing in her head like northern lights, she could see… parallels. An impish sense of humor, a curious, observant mind, a love for beauty. Moody, playful, insolent, and yes, callow.
Oh, this was worse.
Zoisite had not stolen anyone. Zoisite had become.
This was so much worse.
When she thought of what she had told him…
Ami turned back to the computer. She was going to enter it into the official historical record: Queen Serenity had a twisted sense of humor.
Ami had even told Zander about Galaxia…
No, no, she could not afford to think about her now, her discipline—her mind—her emotions were out of control. Ami breathed in to a count of eight and out to a count of eight and tried to save the raincloud of her thoughts from the freak asteroid—the meteor impact—the Cretaceous-Paleogene extinction event that was Sailor Galaxia.
"How could I have done that?" she asked out loud. "How could I betray Usagi?"
"I hate myself," she thought, "I hate myself."
The Lunar Computer did not offer any answers. The only ones who had truly helped her had been her sisters—because of Zander's email from so long ago—god damn it!
Her feelings crescendoed inside her; an ice storm of emotion pelting through her frame. She had to go home. Ami stood up and commanded the computer, "Sleep mode" and when the screens went black there was her reflection staring at her.
And her reflection— the same haunted look she'd seen on Zander's face not two hours ago.
Ami chuckled, before she could think better of it, and when tears overcame the laughter she let them fall. She took up her coat and her scarf and headed out. She walked along the streets in a vaguely homeward direction.
What if Zoisite…
What if Zander…
What would Usagi do?
Ami smiled. Some questions had clear answers. She stopped into a bubble tea shop and ordered a Thai iced tea with bubbles of tapioca, and a fish-shaped pastry filled with red beans.
Now, what would Usagi really do?
"I know what she would do," Ami said to her dwindling Thai tea.
Ami made up her mind gradually, like a harpist bringing her instrument into tune. But when she had the notes in mind, she acted.
