This was not how it was supposed to be.

His form was correct. He used all three edges of his skates. His legs were moving efficiently. No energy was wasted. He moved almost effortlessly across the ice. He could still skate, maybe even realize a foolish boyhood dream of playing for the Oilers.

But the joy was not there.

Skating outdoors on a frozen pond was the start of a good day for any Western Canadian boy. But Nephrite had come to realize that it was a long time since he was Nathan King, a boy from a mining town in Alberta. In truth, it hadn't been more than ten years since that fateful day his life changed forever. But in those years, he had been to hell and back. He couldn't tell if it had been ten years or a thousand since he had been able to skate on a pond carefree. He wondered if it would be another thousand before he could again.

He had lost so much: his honor, his home, his love, his heart. He had resolved to earn it all back. He hoped today might be a start, one stride at a time. It started with the skates.

He had awoken in the battle. And from the ashes, Crystal Tokyo was raised. The rest of the world was not as lucky. Nephrite had volunteered for rescue duty in North America. A part of him felt it his duty to survey his appointed land. He reckoned that if he still had a heart, it would have broken, driving through the now empty land. People had simply vanished. Everywhere were signs of lives interrupted. Cars at a standstill on roads, meals left uneaten, tools and bags dropped where people were wrenched and stolen from the lives they should have had. Nephrite could relate. On a drive through the empty lands of the Great White North, he found a home that was once more familiar and more beloved than any of the great castles ever constructed.

The house still stood as he remembered, amid a cozy cluster in a neighborhood that encouraged young boys to come out on the streets with sticks and skates, pretending to be the stars they idolized. Nathan King had memories of smiling neighbors who were always ready to feed a few extra hungry mouths, rough handed and gentle hearted miners who raised their children right, cold weather and warm people.

This was where young Nathan King grew up, a thousand years after the fall of the Silver Millenium, and for the sixteen years before anyone on Earth had ever heard of Metallia, Chaos and Sailor Moon. Nephrite had been reborn on Earth, in humble surroundings in his old kingdom. He was a happy child. His family was not rich, but not poor. His parents loved him and raised him to be a strong, upstanding young man. Then came that fateful day.

The local newspaper would write of a tragedy in which a young man went for a walk in the woods and disappeared. It was assumed he fell in the river and was washed away in the swift current. They didn't know that he had been taken by the greatest evil ever known.

His parents has left his room exactly the way it was, as though they were waiting for his return. And so, here he was. But no one was left to greet him. This life, like the one he had a thousand years ago, was stolen by Chaos. He had been one of Chaos's most powerful servants, but in the end, he was no different than any of the other innocent victims crushed by the all consuming hunger of pure evil.

Everything was the way he had left it. He paused for a moment, looking at the books, the toys, the clothes, the team pennants, and the posters of Mark Messier and Wayne Gretzky that hung on the wall. Messier had always been his favorite player growing up. His friends all loved Gretzky, and rightfully so. He was the best player, the MVP, the superstar. But ever since he was old enough to skate, young Nathan admired Messier. He loved the passion he played with, the tenacity, the leadership, the strength. Something about the fiery Centreman resonated with him. Messier was not the most talented or the most gifted. He didn't always make the highlight reel, except when it counted. He was a leader. On a team of superstars, he was the unquestioned heart and soul of the team. He thought the day he was traded away was the saddest day of his life.

That was before he knew the truth. The poster on his wall represented so much: a happier time when joy was as simple as skating on the pond or watching the game. Passion was something tangible that could be seen and felt in every stride and every shift. Nathan King admired Mark Messier because he was a passionate leader. Today, Nephrite was a man without a heart, a consequence of his betraying his sworn oaths to protect and defend.

He could not bear to stay. But he took with him his old skates and his stick, hoping that he might one day rediscover the joy they brought.

He did not return to his home after that day. The empty lands and empty houses were simply too painful. It felt wrong to skate alone on the pond behind his home. Not without his childhood friends. So he found a pond in the royal garden that was frozen over for the season, and he laced up his old skates, thankful that they still fit. And he went to try to find himself, hoping that maybe some of his heart could be found on the ice.

For the past half hour, he had hoped to find something. But there was still only a hollow void where his heart should have been. Nephrite let out a sigh of defeat. Guilt, pain, anger, depression, doubt; these were the things he was able to rediscover. Happiness, laughter, joy, love; they remained elusive. He had to remind himself he deserved no better. He made to leave when he sensed someone else nearby.

Almost instinctively, he adopted a defensive posture, shocked that he had let anyone so close. The sight that met his eyes shocked him even more.

"Hello," said Makoto. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Nephrite must have apparently nodded yes because the next thing he knew, she was gliding gracefully around the pond, her face showing the joy he had been seeking. He was mesmerized as she moved, alternately graceful and serene as she seemed to float, and powerful as she strode and leapt. If he still had his heart, he would have admitted that she was beautiful, and he wanted to join her. But he could only watch.

Either ten minutes or a lifetime later, she came to a stop in front of him.

"That was fun!" she said, her face still flushed with excitement.

He knew he should say something, but he could find nothing to say.

Her smile began to falter as the silence stretched on.

"Well, I should go."

She turned to leave when finally he found his voice.

"Makoto…"

She stopped, but did not turn.

"Would… would you… maybe… that is…"

She turned her head him. For the briefest of moments, he saw pain and loneliness in her eyes. He remembered his resolution.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?"

Her eyes widened in surprise before she turned to face him.

"I'd love some," she said as her face began to settle into a smile. She reached out a hand to him.

He considered it for a moment before taking it. His brow furrowed in concentration as he felt something he could not quite place. He wasn't sure exactly what he had been looking for on the ice, but perhaps here in this moment, he had found some of what was lost.