Disclaimer: Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and published by Kodansha. The anime was produced by TV asahi, Toei Agency, and Toei Animation. As this fanfiction is written purely for the entertainment of the author, she makes no material profit from it.

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Tell Me Why

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Makoto didn't shop at department stores often. They were well beyond her modest budget, and too perfect, with their pretty, petite saleswomen and their impossible to ignore displays. She couldn't walk into one without being intimidated, and she'd never walked out without some purchase or another that she'd never intended to make. This time, however, she had one particular purchase in mind, and not even the new Donna Karan line was going to distract her.

The store seemed all but empty, which confused her, and when the elevator doors opened to reveal a single man already inside, Makoto almost decided to take the escalators instead. She wasn't uncomfortable around men as a rule, but the in the three days since Ami's virtual breakdown, Makoto had found that quite a few things had begun to make her nervous despite never having bothered her before. It wasn't rational, but having seen firsthand how little reason could help in the face of inexplicable fears, Makoto was not inclined to question her instincts. Having caught sight of her, though, the man nodded in greeting and held the doors open for her with his hand, and Makoto forced herself to smile in return.

"Going up?"

In different circumstances, Makoto would have swooned over his voice alone, a rich baritone that managed to make even his polite inquiry sound like a proposition - or an invitation; as it was, she could feel her cheeks heating as she nodded and stepped inside. The gifts department was on the third floor, she rationalised, trying to rid herself of her blush, so the ride wouldn't be long enough for her to embarrass herself further. That helped a little, except that when she reached to press the button for the third floor, his hand was already there.

Makoto jumped at the contact, and then flushed again when he chuckled. It was a gorgeous sound, deep and full, the kind of laugh that invited the listener to join in, and it was the last thing she would have associated with a man who looked as though he'd never learned how to so much as smile.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, and his grey eyes assured her of his sincerity. "I always forget that you modern women are able to do things for yourselves."

"Not as well as you'd think," Makoto retorted. She wished she knew how he managed to say something so outright rude without being offensive. There was nothing self-conscious about his words or his attitude, and still she'd responded as though the jibe had been aimed at him rather than her. It was a minor thing to let bother her, but it was irritating, and her frustration grew when he smiled at her. She'd been right earlier: he was not a man who smiled. All condescension and ice, it left her wrong-footed, and Makoto could feel her unease begin to return once more.

Leaning across the small distance between them, he whispered in her ear, the husky sound of his voice sending chills down her spine even as his breath, hot and startling on her skin, left her reeling. "That's good to hear," he murmured. "It's so much easier when you know your own limitations."

Makoto flinched away, and missed the blow that sent her tumbling forward. It was followed by a sweep of his foot that struck her own out from under her, too fast for her to even try to protect herself against, and her landing lacked any semblance of control. She struck the elevator floor hard, her chin taking the full brunt of her weight and sending shockwaves through her entire body. Her head throbbed, a pain so overwhelming she couldn't react, couldn't do anything but shudder from the shock of it. The edges of her vision were blurring, and it was a relief when even staying conscious proved to be too much of an effort.

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A heavy foot between her shoulder blades brought her back, and Makoto whimpered as sensation returned in a rush. Her jaw was pure agony, pulsing like fire even when she held her breath against the pain, but her moans brought no reaction at all from the man who held her pinned. It was as though he'd forgotten about her now that she'd proven she was no threat, but that insult was nothing compared to the furious pounding of her jaw and her head.

Lying prone on the floor, she could feel the doors as they opened. If she didn't know that it would only make everything hurt worse, Makoto would have screamed from the vibrations. She wanted to shriek until her throat was raw, but even the tiny sobs she couldn't repress left her shaking in pain. As it was, she couldn't help but writhe against the foot the kept her in place, and at last, that produced a reaction. The pressure on her back disappeared, and Makoto pushed herself up onto her elbows, shaky and weaker than she'd ever felt in her life.

"That was quicker than I expected, Kuntsaito," a feminine voice stated, and as Makoto watched, a pair of pale blue shoes stepped into the elevator.

Kuntsaito, Makoto decided, was the name of the man who'd attacked her; the amount of time it took her to reach that conclusion worried her, until she also decided that she had much more pressing issues to focus on. Foremost of those was the fact that the woman sounded neither surprised, nor inclined to help her.

As Makoto sagged against the elevator wall, Kuntsaito's legs stepped into view, closer to the woman than to her. "Not everyone likes to play Zoisaito's games," he replied, and his voice was as sensual as it had been earlier despite the sudden frozen tone. "I prefer not to waste my time."
The woman responded with a huff and then, to Makoto's surprise, knelt down. Long, soft-looking hair framed a sweet face, and Makoto drew a shuddering breath as light blue eyes regarded her with a childlike intensity. After a moment, she frowned. "I don't suppose you have any idea what's going on, do you?"

There was no way for Makoto to respond, not without putting herself through more agony than any answer could be worth, but the woman seemed to read her answer regardless.

"Kuntsaito," she barked, disapproval clear in her face. "You know you're not supposed to just attack! That's rude and disrespectful, and I've told you that before!"

Turning back to Makoto, the woman started to offer her a business card, and then seemed to realise Makoto would not be able to take it, because she held it in front of Makoto's face. "I'm Sailor Aluminum Siren, and I'm afraid you have something that I need. Don't worry - it won't hurt very much, and I'll be done in just a moment."

Makoto wanted to protest, wanted to defend herself, wanted to do something, but all she could muster was a single, shrill groan. Kuntsaito's legs had disappeared at some point during Sailor Aluminum Siren's introduction, and as Makoto shuddered, his hands gripped her shoulders, tight and unyielding, and somehow comforting for all that they made her head pound harder. She was going to die. Sailor Aluminum Siren was going to kill her, and Kuntsaito was going to help her, but through her terror Makoto still felt the tiniest shred of gratitude that he was going to hold her while it happened.

Not like last time, her terrified mind whispered, and that made no sense, but it helped.

There was a single searing pain in her chest, a ripping sort of burning feeling, and Kuntsaito's grip tightened just the slightest little bit. Makoto couldn't hold her head up at all, then, but it didn't matter because she couldn't keep her eyes open, either, and even her head had stopped hurting.

One of Kuntsaito's hands moved, and what was left of Makoto wanted to cry, but a warm hand caressed her cheek, and she sighed instead. "Beautiful," she heard him say, heard Sailor Aluminum Siren echo the sentiment, and then even that was gone.

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He'd never approved of the cat and mouse game Zoisaito had initiated with Sailormercury, but as he stepped out of the elevator, Kuntsaito thought he understood, a little. Something felt wrong about the empty shell sitting broken against the elevator wall, and Kuntsaito could still feel her weight resting against him. She had died well, but the thought brought nothing more than a strange regret that she'd had to die at all.

Still ... her star seed was beautiful. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and if every senshi had one ...

For the first time since his awakening, Kuntsaito felt a sense of fear when he considered the woman he'd bound himself to serve.

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Author's Notes:
Written for day 11 of SM-Monthly's March SailorStars challenge.