THE SECRET COLONY OF YAKUSHIMA
Chapter 6: "Advice From Our Better Selves"
A Sailor Moon fanfic

By Bill K.


Ami, Makoto and the hospital dietitian stared in wonder as Queen Serenity looked blankly ahead. Makoto spoke to her, but she didn't react. Ami touched her arm, but she didn't react. The vital signs monitors were consulted, but there was no visible change. Serenity just stared as if her conscious mind had vacated her body and left it behind. Suddenly terrified, Makoto looked to Ami for some sort of reasonable explanation and assurance that everything was all right. Ami couldn't give it.

Serenity didn't see. She was busy.

"Kakyu?" Serenity asked in order to confirm that the floating, ethereal form before her was in fact her old friend and mentor Kakyu, the leader of the planet Kinmoku. "Is it really you?"

"It is, dear Usagi," Kakyu responded with the gentle, loving smile Serenity so cherished and so associated with her.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Serenity squealed. She started to rise up, but found she couldn't. "Forgive me, Kakyu. I'm - - kind of under the weather."

"I know," Kakyu replied. "I sensed your distress. That is why I appear before you. Though it does not make up for not having visited you sooner. Please forgive my thoughtlessness. I am much poorer for not being in your presence than you are not being in mine."

"You sensed me all the way to Kinmoku? Oh, Kakyu, I'm so sorry for dragging you all the way across the universe for my little problems!"

"I have only sent my astral projection, Usagi," Kakyu assured her. "I sensed your problem, of course. We are connected, Usagi, as are all those like us. When you smile and feel happy for no discernable reason, you are feeling my joy or the joy of another ascended queen. If you take the time and examine your feeling, you will see this. And if, for no reason, you feel suddenly ill-at-ease, it is the discomfort of one of us that you sense. So how could I not sense your distress?"

"I'm sorry," Serenity murmured. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Modest to a fault," smiled Kakyu. "And your modesty, while endearing, belies the true gravity of your suffering. You are in a most delicate condition, Usagi. And I have come to warn you of it and to pull you back from the brink before you topple over."

"You know what's wrong with me?" Serenity asked anxiously.

"I do. But you will not want to hear it," Kakyu grew melancholy. "Recall my advice to you about knowing when to act and when not to?"

"Yes," Serenity replied like a little girl being scolded.

"You do too much, my friend," Kakyu told her. "You act from the heart, as only you can, but you do too much."

"But Kakyu," Serenity pleaded, "there's so much suffering! And so much I can do about it!"

"In time, Usagi," Kakyu said. "One day you will be the miracle worker you wish to be. But at this moment you are an infant trying to run a marathon, and the harder you try, the more harm you do. You must allow yourself to grow, physically, mentally, spiritually, before you can become the greatest of us all. You must learn patience. And you must accept that even ascended to your fullest potential, you will never eliminate all pain and suffering."

"But," Serenity argued, "how do I say yes to the first person and no to the second? That's not fair. It's not fair to them."

"Usagi, if you continue on this pace, you will flame brilliantly and spectacularly," Kakyu replied, "and quickly leave everyone with naught but ashes. And that is not fair to everyone, and particularly to me, for you will be depriving me of your glorious presence."

And Serenity broke down and began crying.

"Forgive me my selfishness, Usagi," Kakyu consoled her. "But I speak for the universe. They know of you and they anticipate what you will become. And they would mourn your loss almost as much as I."

"Oh, Kakyu," sobbed Serenity, "I could do as you ask - - if only I didn't care so much!"

"I do understand the sacrifice I ask of you," Kakyu told her. "Perhaps one day, when you are stronger and wiser, you can look back upon this moment and see that I only had your best interests in mind."

"I know," Serenity whimpered. "I'll - - try to pace myself. And I'll try to get better - - though I can't promise anything. You remember what kind of student I was."

"I do, and I have all the confidence in the universe in you. Thank you, Usagi," Kakyu smiled. "And I promise that the next time I visit, it will not be motivated by crisis." And Kakyu faded from her sight.

"Serenity, are you all right?" she heard Ami gasp. Refocusing, Serenity saw Ami and Makoto standing over her. Ami had her hand on Serenity's neck, feeling for a pulse. Makoto was almost ashen.

"Didn't you see her?" Serenity asked weakly.

"See who?" Makoto wondered.

"Kakyu. I was talking to Kakyu."

"Princess Kakyu?" Makoto asked.

"A telepathic vision, perhaps?" speculated Ami. "Serenity, you were completely catatonic for several minutes."

"Oh," Serenity squeaked. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Did Kakyu say anything?" Makoto inquired.

"Just the same thing you've been telling me," frowned Serenity. "I guess I have been overdoing it. It's just so hard."

"Don't worry, Serenity," grinned Makoto. "You got through high school. You'll get through this." Ami shot Makoto a grin.

"I hope it's not going to be as hard as high school," Serenity muttered.


Michiru opened her eyes and felt a sudden sense of confusion. A quick scan of the scene brought back some lucidity. She was on the bullet train. Her mother, Constance, was sitting beside her. They were headed for Yakushima. But she felt a gap.

"Did I fall asleep?" Michiru murmured. She raised her head up because she realized she'd been using her mother's shoulder for a pillow.

"Yes," Constance replied contentedly. "We'll be pulling into Kagoshima station in a few minutes."

"You shouldn't have let me lay on you," Michiru scowled. "You'll catch my cold."

"I'll risk it," Constance smirked. "You know, I'd forgotten how much I love watching you sleep."

Michiru gave her a puzzled glance. "When did you ever get the chance to watch me sleep?"

"I wasn't ALWAYS gone from your life, Michi-Chan," Constance set her chin playfully. "And during the few times I was there, I always loved to watch you sleep."

"Why?"

She sighed. "Because when you slept, you reminded me of when you were born, in the hospital, in my arms. Lordy, I never loved anything as much as I loved you when I was holding you in the maternity ward - - not even that springer spaniel we had when I was six."

"It's nice that I rate higher than a springer spaniel," Michiru rasped.

"Hey, Pookie was no ordinary springer spaniel," Constance shot back. "I still remember when I held you how much I wanted to do right by you. Oh, but it unraveled so quickly."

Michiru's pain kept her silent.

"That's another reason why I loved watching you sleep," Constance admitted. "When you were awake, I had to be 'responsible'. When you were asleep, I could just love you. If you had been able to sleep eighteen hours a day, I probably would have stayed." Constance thought. "That sounds terrible. But it's the truth. I missed so much - - we both missed so much, all because I wasn't ready to be a mother."

Michiru examined her hands.

"Well, now that I've sufficiently depressed us both," Constance quipped half-heartedly, "I've been using my cell phone to scan for boat rentals in Kagoshima. We can catch a cab to this one and be off for Yakushima in an hour at the most." She showed Michiru the cell phone screen.

"Good thinking, Mom," Michiru smiled.

"See, I've got a little grey matter under all of this blonde," Constance grinned. "So how are you feeling? Did the rest do you any good?"

"A little, I guess," Michiru sighed. "I still feel like I'm about to liquify. And I think the decongestant is beginning to wear off. I suppose I'd better put my surgical mask back on."

"Well, lean on me if you have to," Constance assured her.

"Gods," thought Michiru as the train pulled to a stop. "How many times when I was a child did I want to hear that? Better late than never, I suppose."

Constance rose, then turned and offered her hand to help Michiru up. Michiru looked up at her for a moment. Then she took the offered hand.


The roar of a helicopter overhead stopped Masashi Kuroi in her tracks. She looked up, trying to pierce the dense foliage overhead and see the craft. Uranus stopped a few feet from her and glanced up.

"Could that be a search helicopter?" Kuroi asked hopefully.

"Probably," Uranus grunted. "Sounds like another EC-145. Probably out of Yakushima Airport."

"HEY!" Kuroi shouted, waving her arms. Immediately she doubled over in pain from her ribs. "Down here..." she groaned. Then she looked expectantly at Sailor Uranus.

"They're not going to see us down here," Uranus remarked. "Those trees are too dense. And even if they did, there's no place here to set down."

"They might," fussed Kuroi. "You could get their attention with that senshi attack of yours."

"Might accidentally knock them out of the sky, too," Uranus countered. "They're not searching for people. They're searching for the wreckage of our helicopter. Once they find that, then they look for survivors." She glanced back from where they'd come. "Hope they don't take fire from those crazy macaques if they get too close."

"Maybe we should go back," Kuroi proposed. "To the wreckage, I mean."

"And risk getting attacked by those macaques?" Uranus asked. "No, our safer bet is to get to the research facility. They'll probably have a communications device there. We can contact Yakushima and tell them where we are." Uranus glanced suspiciously behind her again. "Even if they don't, we can get some food and medical attention for you. Feel up to traveling? You look like you're hurting pretty bad."

"I can travel," Kuroi replied. "If you think it's necessary."

Uranus glanced behind her again. "It might be."

"What is it? Did you hear something?"

"Just the wind," Uranus answered. "But it's telling me we shouldn't hang around."

"You talk to the wind?" Kuroi asked skeptically. "Is that a senshi thing?"

"No, I don't talk to the wind," Uranus said and began herding Kuroi forward. "But I'm smart enough to listen when it tells me something."

Reluctantly Dr. Kuroi allowed herself to be herded forward. As they worked their way through the dense jungle foliage, she would glance at Uranus. The senshi was always alert, always ready for an attack, eyes darting in all directions. It reminded her of the nature shows she'd watched, of animals in the wild expecting an attack at any moment. Despite being a vaunted Sailor Senshi, a famous race car driver and a skilled helicopter pilot, there was a part of this woman that seemed at home in the wild - - far more at home than she was.

"So how did you draw this expedition, Sensei?" Uranus asked as she scrutinized a bush up ahead.

"Hiroyama needed someone with a medical background, in case the researchers were injured or sick," Kuroi explained. "We knew each other from school. He knew about," and she hesitated, "I was very devastated by Hideyuki's death. I withdrew. Took a leave of absence from the hospital. Just. . ." She glanced up at Uranus. "Are you married?"

"Yeah," Uranus said. "Don't know what I'd do if I lost her."

"Well Hiroyama reached out to me. Tried to get me to join the world again," Kuroi continued. "Talked about the expedition he was trying to mount to check in on Dr. Hashimoto and his colleagues. I didn't want to go. But he convinced me that I would do Hideyuki's memory more honor by helping others than by drowning myself in despair and survivor's guilt."

She sniffed loudly. "Now he's gone, too."

Uranus continued on awkwardly, wondering if she dared to say anything else and risk insulting or hurting her traveling companion. Michiru would know what to do. But she was never as good with words as Michiru was.

Using her hand to part some of the thick growth, Uranus peered cautiously beyond the bush. Kuroi tried to peer over her shoulder. She felt the doctor against her and used her arm to hold the woman back.

"That's the research facility!" exclaimed Kuroi. She started to move toward it, but Uranus held her back.

"You're sure? You ever been here before?" Uranus asked.

"No," Kuroi replied. "But we're in the middle of the jungle. What else could it be?"

"Good point," Uranus nodded. "But we don't know who or what might be lurking in there. Better approach slow and cautious. You stay behind me."

Without argument, Dr. Kuroi fell in behind Sailor Uranus. Part of her chafed at the senshi's slightly patronizing tone, but what she said made sense. Kuroi chalked it up to the woman's way with things. In the short time she'd known Sailor Uranus and Haruka Tenoh before, she'd found the woman gruff, distant and slightly superior. But she seemed honest and capable, too. So the doctor followed.

It was a tense, slow walk to the door of the facility. The building itself was little more than a prefabricated steel barn about twenty feet by fifteen. From the outside it was little more than shelter and storage. They could hear a generator running on the other side of the building. A cellular antenna was fixed on the roof with cables leading into the building, which indicated there was at least one device with a cellular or wi-fi connection inside. To the east of the building was a cleared area. Uranus assumed that was the place on which she was to land the helicopter.

As they approached, Kuroi noticed that Uranus was constantly looking around, again like an animal in the wild who might expect an attack at any time. Also the senshi had materialized the Space Sword again and carried it in her right hand. Kuroi felt the tension in her own body increase. Her adrenalin was rushing simply because Uranus seemed to expect trouble. For if an experienced senshi like Uranus expected trouble, why shouldn't she?

They were now within reach of the door. It was a simple door with a handle knob and a hasp rather than a bolt lock out of the handle. Uranus extended her left hand to the handle, keeping the Space Sword at the ready. She gripped the handle and gently pulled it down to disengage the simple latch. Kuroi's breath shuddered in her chest.

Uranus whipped the door open and plunged in. Kuroi's eyes widened. Five macaques inhabited the building. Three were in the rafters on either side of the building, peering out of vents near the ceiling. The other two were working at laptop computers. The nearest macaque turned leisurely from the computer.

"Greetings," the macaque nodded.

"Space Sword . . .!" Uranus shouted, pulling the sword back in order to launch energy arcs.

"Wait, wait!" shouted the macaque, waiving its hands at Uranus frantically. The other macaque launched itself into the rafters in a bid for safety. "We mean you no harm!"

"Then step away from the computer!" barked Uranus.

The macaques in the rafters began screeching anxiously. With the Space Sword trained on it, the remaining macaque cautiously shoved its castored chair away from the table where the laptop sat.

"There is no need for violence, Sailor Uranus," the macaque said, staring the entire time at the Space Sword. "As I said, we have no wish to harm you."

"Yeah, I've seen first hand how peaceful you all are," Uranus rumbled.

"You've encountered Bungah, I assume," the macaque replied sadly. "He was probably the cause for your aircraft crashing. Please accept my apologies for his actions. Was any of your party hurt badly?"

"We were all hurt pretty badly," Uranus said stonily. "One died."

The macaque closed its eyes and put its head in its hand. To Kuroi, the primate seemed genuinely upset. But when she glanced at Uranus, she could see the senshi was having none of it.

"And of course you're suspicious of us now," the macaque continued. "I don't know how to convince you of this, but we are not your enemy. We are not connected with Bungah's violence."

"Sure," Uranus replied. "There's two different bands of talking macaques running around the jungle."

"Yes. There is," the macaque answered intently. "You do not need to fear us. If anything, we are the ones who have reason to fear you."

"You're damn right," Uranus growled. "And I'm giving you and your bunch here to the count of one to get the Hell out of here - - or I start firing."

Continued in Chapter 6