Sailor Moon Crystal Generation

by nerds-of-a-feather

When a pair of thieves steal Endymion's crystal, Chibiusa is forced to step up as the next Sailor Moon. Joined by the Sailor Quartet and the mysterious Pegasus Kamen, she fights for Crystal Tokyo's future. But what sort of future will that be? (Under revision)

13. One Eye for Crying

One Eye for Crying

Conference Room Alpha-Ruby was furnished with sleek, minimalist lines of black lacquer and a suitable shade of red silk upholstery. Table and chairs stood out in bold contrast to the white walls, drawing the eye toward the hearth at the end of the room where a roaring fire glowed. Seated before it, white-gloved hands folded neatly on the tabletop, was Sailor Mars. On her right, Sailor Moon fidgeted in her seat, clearly wishing she were somewhere else. Across the table, Saturn's eyes were hard as stone, and she made a point of not looking at the princess. Mars pretended not to notice. As long as they could do their jobs, she would let them work out their personal grudges on their own. Thankfully, the other four faces at the table were solemn and focused.

Mars flicked her fingers across the edge of the table (the entire surface was a touch-screen interface), and a three-dimensional map of the city materialized in front of her. She turned to Sailor Moon. "Show me where you saw the base."

Sailor Moon frowned, squinted at the map for a few seconds, then stood up to get an aerial view. "Aha," she said, pointing. "That's where it was."

The other gave her a puzzled look.

"Didn't you say it was a tower?" Ceres recalled.

"'Cause that looks more like an abandoned construction site," Pallas chimed in.

"I could have sworn… no, that's where it was," Sailor Moon insisted. "I'm sure of it."

"Some sort of cloaking mechanism?" Saturn speculated.

"It's possible," Mars agreed. "We'll send the six of you there to investigate."

Juno brightened. "Hey! Sunday afternoon there's a big motocross event right in that neighborhood. If we could all go it would be the perfect cover."

"Mm-hm." Mars clearly had her doubts about Juno's motivations.
"Seriously. I know a guy who knows a guy, and we could get really good seats. I mean, to position ourselves strategically to… uh, you know, investigate." The teenager gave her a toothy grin, trying her hardest to sell the idea. Mars let her sweat for a few seconds before making her decision.

"Very well. We'll secure enough tickets for this mission," she said, making sure to emphasize the last word. She caught Juno doing a fist-pump under the table, and raised an eyebrow. The young senshi gulped and sat on her hands.

"And in the meantime," said Mars, "we rebuild Crystal Tokyo."

---

The city was a mess.

Heaps of broken concrete and crystal lined the streets, spilling out between overturned cars and fallen trees. Water bubbled up from broken pipes—a bad sign, because it meant the utility control systems that should have shut them off had failed. Damaged power lines had forced city officials to cut the electricity to the entire ward, and an eerie stillness had settled over the streets. The shriveled remains of Ripidolite's plants lay draped over every building, except for a few blocks on the south side of the Crystal Palace, where Mars' fire had burned them away. In their place, a fine layer of ash had settled over every surface.

"We have our work cut out for us," Seresu sighed, gazing up at the mass of twisted cable and shattered solar panels that had once been a hovercar charging station. Beside her, Atena made a small sound of assent.

"It's a good thing we've got them to help," she said, dipping her head toward their new teammates who stood a short distance away. The pair were dressed for a hard day's work: stiff white overalls, heavy boots, and t-shirts in their respective senshi colors. Atena muttered something about Super Mario Brothers.

Sensing that they were being talked about, the duo came over to join them. Seresu gave them a strained smile, realizing that they still hadn't been properly introduced.

The unfairly gorgeous redhead saved her. "Garnier-san, isn't it? My name is Beth." After an expectant pause, she gave her companion a light nudge in the ribs.

Junko, who had been busily stirring a pile of gravel with her toe, gave a start and looked up at them. "Uh, yeah, hi. I'm Osaki. Osaki Junko."

They were both foreigners, Seresu noted. Junko's light accent marked her as American, while Beth's striking features were clearly not Japanese. Come to think of it, she looked very familiar…

"So, it's okay to call you Beth-san?" Atena asked, confused by her apparent lack of a family name.

"I don't know what else you'd call me," Beth chuckled. "In Indonesia—that's where I'm from—a lot of people have only one name."

"Really? Weird!" Atena blurted out, to Seresu's utter mortification.

Beth took Atena's bluntness in stride. "Never seemed weird to me. It was a real pain getting my residence certificate, though. They were using some clunky software that hasn't been updated in about five hundred years and it didn't have the option to leave it blank, so they had to put me down as 'Beth Beth.'" Her smile faltered as she realized what that sounded like in Japanese. VesVes.

"Well then, it's only fair that you call me Atena," the blue-haired girl declared, unwittingly saving her from the dark path her mind had been slipping down.

"That means we're friends, doesn't it?"
"Yup!"

Seresu sucked in a loud gasp, and the others turned to stare at her. After a few seconds of flailing, she squeaked out, "You're Beth? The Beth? As in, runner up for Miss Teen Indonesia 2914?"

Beth made an urgent hushing sound. She glanced nervously at the handful of volunteers who were trickling into the parking lot. To her relief, none of them seemed to notice. "Please don't," she said in a low voice.

Ignoring her, Seresu grabbed her by the shoulders. "Why in the world did you turn down the chance to compete for Miss Teen International? You were perfect! You could have won!"

"I was tired of all the attention," said Beth, her forehead wrinkling in frustration.

"Ah… but you were so pretty!" Seresu sighed in disappointment.

Beth's smile was wistful but resolved. "Thank you. It's nice to know I had a fan," she said. "It was fun while it lasted, but by the end I felt so artificial."

"Because of all the makeup and stuff?" Atena asked.

"Not just that. The pageants judge a girl on inner beauty as well as outer. It sounds good, but if you have to fake that inner beauty in order to win… that's the worst kind of fake, I think. After a while I couldn't stand the constant scrutiny, the way I had to sugar-coat every word, be everything to everybody. I decided I didn't want to be judged anymore. If you have to lose yourself to become someone who everyone can love, is it worth the cost?"

"Pretty and genuine," said Junko with an appreciative whistle. "What's not to love?"

Seresu gazed at her with unmitigated admiration. "You really would have been perfect…"

Beth shrugged. "It was time for me to move on. Now that I'm here in Tokyo, I've decided to pursue my dream of becoming an actress."

Junko gave her a skeptical look. "That would make you feel less artificial?"

"If I'm in character, everyone will know it's not the real me," Beth reasoned. "I mean, there's a difference between pretending to be someone you're not, and… well, pretending to be someone you're not. Know what I mean?"

"Nope," Atena confessed.

Seresu giggled. "You wouldn't understand, would you, Atena-chan?"

Atena's mouth scrunched into a knot. "What don't I understand?"

"I think what she meant to say is that you have an honest heart," Junko explained, reaching down to fluff the shorter girl's hair. Atena tolerated the gesture with a soft grumble.

"How long have you two been in Japan?" Seresu asked, wondering to herself just how long their allies had been hiding right under their noses.

"I arrived here few days—" Beth began, then remembered the whole time-distortion business. "Well, I guess it was a few months ago."

"Time flies when you're having fun," Junko said drily. "As for me, I'm from Seattle. My life's not nearly as interesting as hers. Came here when I was seven, after my parents got divorced, lived with my grandmother ever since. There's not much more to tell. Well, except for the part where Pinky here almost killed me," she joked with a cheeky grin at Seresu, "but you know about that already."

Seresu crumpled like wet tissue, and Beth and Atena shot Junko a dirty look. She gulped and started to apologize, but at that moment a booming voice from the street commanded everyone's attention.

"Volunteers, may I have your attention please."

The morning sun cast its rays over the ridge, highlighting a tall, sleek silhouette. Golden flecks danced in her auburn hair, gathered atop her head in luxurious waves. A light breeze picked up, whipping the tails of the long pink ribbon at her waist and causing her emerald skirt to flutter. As she descended the slope, light glided over taut sinew and womanly curves. There was an easy elegance in her stride, an air of carefully restrained power—the coiled tension of a gathering thunderhead. Strength and femininity had been forever at odds in Kino Makoto the awkward teenager, but both had come to fruition in the adult Sailor Jupiter, twin pillars of protection and nurturing grace. It was that duality that today made her the perfect symbol of healing for Tokyo.

The crowd gathered around her in a half-circle. Faces young and old looked up at her with anxious hope, seeking one last bastion of confidence in a world turned upside down.

"Thanks you all for coming today," she said, making an effort to meet each of their eyes. "I know that many of you are still concerned for family members. Others are facing the loss of a home, or wondering how your business will ever recover. But this morning, when I see all of you standing here together, I know we have already overcome the greatest obstacle. We have hope. As long as that hope is alive inside you, we have a future."

She went on to reassure them that the queen and king were very concerned for them all, and that the government was hard at work allocating funds for recovery programs, and so on and so forth, until she had covered all the talking points the royal speechwriters demanded. Then she got down to business, laying out the plan for today's rebuilding effort. She separated the volunteers into small groups, assigning each a single, specific task. Mercury had suggested that dividing up the work this way would make it seem less overwhelming—one of the many nuggets of wisdom garnered from long hours of studying for grueling medical school exams.

Jupiter smiled when she reached the four familiar young women standing near the center of the front row. It was good to see them all together again. In her eyes, their service today was no less important than the battle they had fought last week, and she was glad to see them performing it as ordinary girls rather than senshi. They needed to do this as citizens of Crystal Tokyo, without all the power and glamour that came with the sailor fuku.

Taking quick stock of the group, she had no trouble dividing up the jobs. First she had Seresu, well-intentioned but uppity, and Junko, who had both the work ethic and conversational skills of a well-trained ox. Manual labor would be best for those two, she concluded (and it might just build a little character for the pink-haired diva.) On the other hand, Beth's natural charisma and Atena's earnest optimism were just the thing to lift people's spirits in times like these.

"Garnier-san and Osaki-san, you'll be with the team removing vines from the buildings," she instructed. "Itokuri-san, Beth-san, report to Relief Station 24 and help with the distribution of emergency supplies."

The four nodded in unison and set off to start their tasks. Jupiter had expected Seresu to whine about the work, and was surprised to see her leading the way instead. Maybe she had misjudged the young leader of the quartet.

It took Jupiter took two hours to finish assigning jobs. She was encouraged to see just how many willing volunteers there were. She wished she could stay and help herself—hands-on work had always been more her style—but as usual, she was needed back at the palace.

---

Seresu walked briskly, pretending not to hear Junko's flustered attempts to form a sentence. Her pink designer sneakers slapped out her frustration on the damp pavement. Half of her was irritated at Junko—how dare that ill-mannered American make fun of her when she'd already apologized so many times? The other half, the part closer to her heart, was drowning in shame. How could she be angry with her friend who she had nearly killed with her careless over-reaction? She deserved whatever ridicule she got.

"You know I'm not mad at you, right?"

Seresu's footsteps slowed, and she peeked at Junko over her shoulder. "Really?"

"It was an honest mistake. Like they say, 'to screw up is human, to forgive, divine.' So I forgive you."

"Does that make you a goddess, then?" Seresu asked in a cautious attempt at humor.

Junko threw back her head and laughed. "Me? Oh, that's rich. Nah, I'm certainly no goddess. Just a Christian."

The smile vanished. "Oh," Seresu said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

It didn't work. She felt Junko's eyes fix on her like hound dogs on a rabbit. "Do you know the story of Jesus, Garnier-san?"

Seresu gritted her teeth. Oh boy. Here it comes. She made herself take a deep, calming breath. "Yes," she said, "I have heard it. I've studied the Gospel, and the Neo-Selenite Creed, and the Eightfold Path—both the Terran and Mauan versions, and every other religion, philosophy or what-have-you, in school. In fact, I probably know more about your faith than you do." She scrunched her eyes shut, reminding herself that she wasn't angry at Junko. "I am still proudly agnostic, and nothing you can say will change that. So I kindly request that you save your breath and my time."

Junko blinked, at a loss for words. "Uh. Okay…" she finally managed to stammer. Seresu had already resumed her beeline for their assigned area. Shaking off her momentary distraction, Junko jogged to catch up.

"But still," she said as they stopped before the vine-entangled wreckage of a building, "if there was ever a time we could use a prayer or two, it's now."

"Two hands working can do more than a thousand clasped in prayer," Seresu quipped, seizing hold of a gnarled strand. She tugged hard, but it was woven so tightly into the concrete it wouldn't budge.

Junko bent to help her, bracing her foot against the side of the building. "Today we're answering prayers."

"Really? Well… tell me this," Seresu said between gasps of effort. "Why… would any… supposedly good Supreme Being… allow this to happen?"

Junko mulled over that for a second. "People allow—ugh, this thing is stubborn!" She paused to get a better grip. "People allow evil into their hearts. And that evil, what the sailor soldiers know as Chaos, poisons the world." She nodded, agreeing with herself.

"Your god is weaker than Chaos."

"No, of course not. He's all-powerful."

"Then I'll ask again. Why allow this to happen?"

"Well, that's… uh… Hmm." Junko fell silent, and Seresu thought the discussion was over. But after several seconds of cross-eyed contemplation, the green haired girl replied, "Because of free will. A corrupted world with free will is better than a perfect world without it."

"Why can't we have both? As sailor soldiers, and as citizens, we have to believe that everyone is capable of good. This city was built on that belief." Mid-sentence Seresu realized that at some point in the conversation both of them had switched back to English.

"Of course everyone's capable of good. But people are selfish sometimes."

"Why doesn't your god make them not selfish? Why doesn't he make them so that they only want to do good all the time?"

"Then they wouldn't really have a choice."

"Is it better to have a choice? Always?"

"Yeah. I think it is."

"Now you're contradicting yourself. You say that human will is so wonderful, and yet you also claim that people can't accomplish anything on their own—that they need some invisible, all-powerful entity to help them."

"That's not what I said."

"Either people can do good without relying on a god, or they can't. If they can, then we don't need any gods. If they can't, then I can only conclude that any god that does exist is the architect of evil. But it must be nice, having someone else to blame for all your failures."

"Not exactly. The way I see it, all good things comes from God, but my mistakes are my own, when I fail to trust Him."

"I see. How very convenient," Seresu said drily.

The vine gave way all of a sudden, and the two of them tumbled backwards. Muttering under her breath, Seresu examined her ruined manicure. Junko spat and flung the broken vine aside with more force than was strictly necessary.

"So, whose prayer were you answering just now?"

Junko's crooked grin returned, more forced this time. "Not yours, I hope."

Seresu sighed and started in on the next patch of decaying foliage. For a while they worked in silence. The heap of discarded vines between them grew until they could barely see one another.

"Hey, Junko?" Seresu spoke up out of the blue.

"Hm?"

"We do have a choice between good and evil. Between standing against evil or giving in. So if we fight hard enough and never surrender, we'll be able to protect everyone. Right?" Seresu wasn't sure whether she was offering reassurance or asking for it.

"I sure hope so."

"Are you afraid?"

"…Yeah."

Seresu brushed her hand over a small patch of smooth crystal that had been spared from the destruction. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and wide-eyed and so very fragile. "Me too."

---

At the empty storage locker that the recovery workers had dubbed Relief Station 24, Atena and Beth hefted the last crate of bottled water off of the rickety old hybrid-electric truck that was delivering supplies to their station. Fossil fuel-powered vehicles were a strange sight these days, when city services and the few people who didn't opt to travel by train used hovercars as their main mode of transportation. Lauded by some as the innovation that had saved Earth's atmosphere, hovercars used fuel cells made from Kaguyite, a synthetic mineral created in the Silver Millennium that had been rediscovered by Oozora Tsukimi's 23rd century Lunar expedition. (Incidentally, the first street-legal hovercar model, the Toyota Luna, was named after the queen's feline adviser, who was a longtime friend of Oozora's father.) Ten minutes at a charging station, connected directly to one of the city's subterranean fusion reactors, could provide drivers with several days of smooth, quiet, emissions-free travel. But now that the power was shut off, they had to fall back on centuries-old technology.

"Whew! That was heavy!" Atena exclaimed.

Beth dusted her hands off and admired their handiwork: a floor-to-ceiling stack of crates in no particular order. "We should get organized before people start showing up."

Atena made a face at the word "organized."

"Let's pile all the bottled water on one side and all the canned food over there," Beth suggested, pointing as she formed her plan. "Laundry and personal hygiene items in this general area, and… well, the rest we can just figure out as we go. It'll make it easier to find everything quickly," she explained when the blue-haired girl still looked skeptical.

"Yeah, I guess so," Atena said with a shrug, and the two got to work. "Just don't go all Seresu on me, okay?"

Beth giggled. "What?"

"Seresu-chan's a total neat freak. A while back she decided my house was too messy, so she brought everyone over for a—I think she called it a 'cleaning party.' Then my room got wrecked when a monster attacked, and she showed up at my door the very next day to clean again!"

"That was nice of her."

"It was," Atena agreed, feeling a twinge of shame for complaining about the free (and, she had to admit, much-needed) help. "But she can be so pushy sometimes, you know?"

"I can imagine," said Beth, recalling how Seresu had mobbed her earlier.

"She really admires you."

"She admires runner-up Miss Teen Indonesia."

"And Miss Teen Indonesia isn't the real you."

Beth grew pensive. "Yes," she said after some thought, "but I guess I can't blame Garnier-san for that."

"Well, I don't know a thing about pageants, so as far as I'm concerned, you're just Beth-san."

Beth smiled. "You have no idea how refreshing that is."

They finished rearranging the crates just as the first family arrived at their station, a couple and their son. Beth greeted them with carefully restrained cheer and asked what she could do for them. She didn't want to seem flippant at a time like this, but it wouldn't do any good to be depressing, either. They didn't ask for much, only a few bottles of water and a pocket solar cell. Atena entertained the little boy with silly faces while Beth fetched their things.

"I'm glad we did this," said Beth as they watched the family walk away with renewed hope in their eyes.

Atena nodded in agreement. "It sure beats fighting all the time."

A few minutes passed with nothing but the sound of a lone cicada chirping somewhere outside.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?" Atena asked.

"Let's see… I watch a lot of old movies. I love anything made before the 22nd century."

"Oh," said Atena, trying her best to be interested. "Um, neat."

"Back then the interactivity was really limited. No randomized scenes or diverging storylines or real-time alternate endings. No emotional-response metrics whatsoever, in fact."

"You mean everyone saw the same movie every time?"

"Exactly! Filmmaking was more of an art form in those days."

"Got any other hobbies?"

"I paint. Badly." Beth laughed. "I like to write short stories, and occasionally a poem or two. Window shopping is always fun. And I collect vintage Jones soda bottles, if that counts as a hobby."

"Do you like video games?"

"Never really played them that much. What kind of games do you like?"

"Console, arcade, you name it. I'm pretty good at sports games and action RPGs, but my specialty is DDR! I'm aiming to be a champion at next year's Tokyo convention!"

"Oh. Neat."

Chirp. Chirp-chirp.

Both were secretly relieved when the next group arrived, this time from a local school where many people had taken shelter. They asked for batteries, some instant ramen, and water. And so it went, hour after hour, Atena and Beth cheerfully distributing supplies to a steady stream of people… until they realized their supply of water was dwindling, and the crowds were not. The blankets ran out next, then the dehydrated food. At half past noon they turned the first person away empty-handed. By one they were digging through piles of empty crates for the last few supplies. After one final torturous hour, they closed the station, leaving over a hundred people standing outside. The best the girls could do was direct them to nearby stations, though they suspected the situation there would be the same. Crystal Tokyo's state-of-the-art technology was proving to be a mixed blessing—they enjoyed the highest standard of living on the planet, but they had relied on their AI systems and hovercars, their always-available internet, their touch-screen voice-activated everything, for so long that they had forgotten how to survive without them. When the unthinkable happened, they found themselves unprepared.

Beth sighed and shook her head as the metal doors rattled down, shutting out a sea of disappointed faces. "If you'd told me yesterday that dealing with monsters was the easy part of our job, I wouldn't have believed you."

---

Mercury clucked her tongue in disapproval as she examined Endymion's shoulder. "No sign of infection, but there's still a lot of swelling. Have you been wearing your sling?"

"Yes," said Endymion.

"No," said Serenity.

The king grumbled at his wife's betrayal. "I may have taken it off once or twice. They needed help down at the loading docks…"

And he wonders why it hurts, Mercury thought, frustrated. It was hard to fault Endymion for wanting to be involved with his people's recovery, not to mention that he was used to being able to heal himself at will. But without his Golden Crystal, that power was gone, and his body was aging more quickly every day. Though she was sensitive enough not to bring up what the royal couple must already know, she feared that even if they recovered the crystal they would not be able to fully reverse the damage. It was ironic. Her mother's generation would have said that 930-odd years was more than long enough for one man to live. But his wife and daughter were still practically immortal. What would it be like, to let go of the man they had loved for centuries, to go on living without him for untold ages? And in her heart of hearts Mercury questioned, not for the first time, if this so-called triumph over nature they had achieved was really so wonderful.

Jupiter poked her head in the door. "How are you feeling, King?"

"My back is killing me. I apparently have a torn ligament in my shoulder. My daughter won't speak to me—or anybody, for that matter. My capitol city is a disaster zone. And I'm being stalked by a little grey cat who won't stop apologizing for things that aren't her fault. So probably not quite as stressed as you."

A rueful laugh escaped Jupiter's lips. "Well, get some rest and feel better soon. Mercury, we've got another meeting in twenty minutes. Most of the Alliance systems have heard about the quote-unquote terrorist attack and would like to help. Representatives from Mau, Phidara, and Betelgeuse 5 arrived this morning, and a group from Lethe-Mnemosyne should be warping in any minute."

"How generous of them," Mercury said with a tight-lipped smile. They all knew it was likely that some of the other planets were not concerned for their well-being so much as eager to exploit Crystal Tokyo's moment of weakness for political leverage. There were many in the Alliance who believed Serenity's de facto leadership had stood unchallenged for far too long.

"Naturally, we'll need to make sure their people have as little contact with one another as possible," the queen reminded them. "Certain parties still blame certain other parties for certain events during the Shadow Galactica wars."

"That was back in the twentieth century," Mercury exclaimed. "They still haven't worked out their differences?"

Serenity shook her head in dismay. "It's hard to work anything out when they won't talk to each other."

"The Mnemosyneans requested your attendance as well, Queen," said Jupiter. "Shall I tell them you're too busy?"

"No, no. I'll make time," Serenity insisted. "I'll just cancel the meeting with the budget committee—they always overrule me anyway—and I don't really need to have my hair done before the press conference this evening, no matter what our public relations advisor says…"

"Are you sure?"

"It's the least I can do." Serenity cast a mournful glance at her husband as Mercury finished bandaging his wounds. "I couldn't even protect my own family during the attack…"

"We know you wanted to help, but as queen, you serve your people best by remaining safely in the palace," said Mercury, with a pointed look at Endymion.

Jupiter nodded in agreement. "I'd have wrestled you to the ground before I let you walk out that door."

Serenity chewed on her lip. "It's been bothering me. What Usagi said that day she and Pallas were attacked. Why is my life worth more than someone else's?"

"No one's life is worth more than anyone else's," Mercury said gently, "But as Saturn pointed out—"

"I was wrong."

The four of them turned in surprise at the voice that spoke from the doorway. Saturn clasped her hands stiffly over her skirt, her eyes not quite meeting theirs. "I was wrong," she repeated. "If our only justification is that life is unfair, then we're no better than the Moirae. What gave us the right to kill that woman? To avenge the innocent people she murdered?" Saturn looked down at her gloved hands, half expecting to see them stained with blood. "I've killed millions of innocent people."

"Saturn…" the queen began, one hand extended in a soothing gesture.

Saturn's eyes pierced hers, at once lost and convicted, pleading and accusing. "What gives us the right to decide who lives or dies? Because we have the power?"

The queen shuddered and gripped Endymion's hand tighter with every question. Jupiter saw her unraveling as Saturn gave voice to all her own doubts. She wavered, torn between wanting to hug Saturn or drag her out of the room and scold her for dumping her emotional burdens onto Serenity. And how would she answer if Saturn turned those uncomfortable questions on her? She had struggled with the same uncertainty as a teenager, and though she had come to terms with the necessities of her job over the years, it was hard for her to condense that experience into words.

Thank goodness for Mercury's rationality. The soldier of ice and wisdom crossed the room in two strides and laid her hands on Saturn's trembling shoulders. "It is not about who has power," she said. "And it is not about vengeance or justification. Those are all selfish things. We have a responsibility to protect others because of the power we have. With that responsibility comes, at times, some difficult choices." She glanced over her shoulder at Serenity; her words were for both of them. "The queen's safety must be our top priority, because many more will be saved in the long run by protecting her. Not that her life as an individual is worth more, but it is better for society as a whole if we keep her safe."

For a moment, Saturn looked like she wanted to believe her. Then she shook her head and tore herself from Mercury's grasp. "That's just a nicer way of saying the same thing," she muttered. Before any of them could stop her, she turned and ran down the hall.

---

"The queen's resurrection must be our top priority, Little Brother. Have you forgotten?"

Perle nodded with a touch of impatience. "I know that."

"Your enthusiasm is lacking these days. You're spending an awful lot of time playing your flute and eating cookies."

"I've met my quota, haven't I?" Perle's stormy expression betrayed his true feelings. In spite of every well-crafted rationale his brother could offer, he had never liked this business.

Poupelin's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, instead turning to address his other colleagues. "Things are going as planned. At this rate, we'll collect enough sugar energy to awaken Badiane-sama in no time. Banane, keep up the good work in Cambodia. Orangeat will move on to Hong Kong. And as for you," he hissed at Perle. "I have a special assignment for you. Come."

As his brother's two lackeys departed with maniacal giggles, Perle reluctantly followed Poupelin to the bow of the airship. For a long time they skimmed over the marbled cloud tops in icy silence. At last the craft shuddered and angled its wings for descent. As thick gray mists closed around them, Poupelin folded his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at Perle.

"I don't mind if you have a little fun on the side while you're scouting out targets—though I thought you were a bit young for that sort of thing. But she's become a distraction."

"She…?" Perle repeated in confusion. A second later, the ship broke through the curtain of clouds to reveal a glittering urban skyline. His eyes went wide as he realized where they were. Tokyo. Chibiusa's hometown.

"A girl bakes one batch of cookies for you, and suddenly you care more about her than your own family."

Perle gulped, wondering how Poupelin had found out about that. "She's n-nothing to me," he stammered, praying that Poupelin wouldn't call his bluff. "Just like you said. A little fun on the side."

"Good. Then you won't mind collecting her. Badiane-sama says she has a very special kind of energy. The purest we've ever seen."

Perle gawked at him for a few seconds, and Poupelin's frown deepened. "Is there a problem?"

They had come to a stop over the Tsukino home. Perle glanced down at Chibiusa's open window and back at his brother, searching for a way out. He found none.

"No," he murmured.

The flute felt oddly heavy in his hands as he drew it from his pocket. He climbed onto the railing of the ship, took a deep breath, and stepped over the side. For a few seconds he threw his arms out wide and relished the thrill of freefall, the cool night air streaming past his face and tousling his soft white curls. Iridescent dragonfly wings sprouted from his back; their soft, frantic fluttering slowed his descent until his bare feet settled lightly onto the pavement. He stood there in the middle of the darkened street, eyes closed, feeling the music flow into him. All at once he lifted the flute and began to play, a cheerful yet haunting melody.

In her bed, Chibiusa stirred. Like a marionette in the hands of a clumsy puppeteer, her body lurched upright and began to march in time with the flute's song, out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and out the front door to the street where Perle was waiting. She was smiling, but it was a doll's smile, hollow and demented. Her eyes were two red stones. Gone was the vivid sparkle that had captivated him since their first encounter.

Perle stopped playing. Chibiusa stopped marching. Trembling, he took half a step toward her.

"This isn't you," he whispered. "This isn't you."

Behind him, the sound of heavy footfalls on the pavement made him jump. He whirled to see Poupelin glaring down at him.

"What are you doing, Perle?"

Perle looked from him to Chibiusa. At that moment, a strange new feeling welled up inside him. Defiance.

"To make dreams come true, you need strength and courage," he declared. His voice was soft, but there was conviction in it. Poupelin jerked back, regarding Perle with a mixture of pity and disgust.

"She's bewitched you," he huffed as he brushed past his brother and pulled out his own flute. His song filled the air, and Chibiusa staggered toward him, falling into step with his shrill, insistent staccato.

"No!" Perle cried, tugging on his arm. "Please, stop!" But Poupelin shoved him aside and kept walking, Chibiusa in tow.

From down the street came the tinkling sound of a bell, followed by a childish voice shouting, "Small Lady!"

Puzzled, Poupelin turned around in time to catch a flash of gray.

"Yeowch!" Chibiusa yelped, clutching her bleeding arm. "What was that for, Diana?"

Diana spat out a piece of Chibiusa's pajamas and waited for her to realize that they were in the middle of the street.

"Ack! What am I doing out here?" Chibiusa frowned as her memories began to sort themselves out. "Was I hypnotized? That music! You!" she exclaimed, pointing at Poupelin. "You're the one who's been kidnapping all the kids, aren't… you?"

She trailed off in shock and dismay when she noticed Poupelin's companion. "Perle?"

The young fairy fumbled for words. "This is not what it looks like!" He bit his lip, realizing that the situation was exactly what it looked like. "That is, I—I never meant to…"

"You tricked me," she choked out. You tricked me, and I fell for it like an idiot!

Tears blurred her eyes as she gripped her compact. "Moon Prism Power! Make Up!"

In a flash her pajamas were replaced by a crisp pink and white sailor suit. She summoned her Pink Moon Rod and leveled it at her would-be friend, feeling the familiar tingling warmth of power coursing through her veins. She willed it to collect in her trembling hands, opened her mouth to speak the incantation, and…

She just couldn't do it.

"Perle," she whispered, lowering the wand. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Before Perle could say anything, she heard Poupelin shout, "Papillot!" and something hit her in the nose. For a weapon, it seemed pretty soft. She backed away, expecting whatever it was to explode or do something nasty. She was even more confused when she realized what it actually was.

"Candy?"

"Look out, Chibi Moon!" Diana warned.

A miniature face sprouted from the bonbon and looked up at her with a wide-eyed, sickly smile. Chibi Moon shrieked and kicked it away. It grew as it skittered along the ground, sprouting puffy round arms and legs. The face swelled into a grotesque parody of a baby's face, with skin blue and shiny like a candy shell. Righting itself, it waddled toward her again, pudgy fingers grasping, making sounds that were half infant gurgle, half bestial growl.

This time Chibi Moon had no qualms about using her power. "Pink Sugar Heart Attack!"

Though the attack looked (and smelled) like a stream of paper hearts and spun sugar, it was as deadly as Mars's fire or Venus's chain. The creature took the brunt of the attack, shrieked and melted away. Poupelin dropped to his knees with a pained grunt, clutching his side where the beam had grazed him.

"Brother!" Perle cried. He dashed to Poupelin's side, raising his flute once more. The song he played this time was not one Badiane had taught them. It was much older, woven from the deep magic of his homeland. Low, reedy notes formed a steady pulse, repetitive and soothing, accented with higher-pitched flourishes like the calls of songbirds in the morning. In spite of herself, Chibi Moon gaped in awe. No music on Earth sounded like that.

Perle closed his eyes, feeling the music, until his own heartbeat matched it. He reached out to find Poupelin's unsteady pulse, fluttering in fear and rage. Slowly, gently, he formed a channel between their minds, drew his brother's heartbeat into sync with his own, until both pulsed even and strong. Healing could not be forced or rushed. A cool, soothing mist surrounded Poupelin's wound. In moments, the flesh knit itself back together until the only sign of his injury was the tear in his shirt. Only then did Perle let the music fade.

Without so much as a thank-you, Poupelin sprang to his feet and lunged at Chibi Moon again. Perle was faster, and jumped between them, arms outstretched to shield his friend.

"Stop it!" he pleaded.

All of a sudden the ground trembled. An icy gale howled down the narrow street, kicking up a miniature tornado of dried leaves. In its wake, every lamp on the block went dark. Even the stars overhead seemed to dim. A few seconds passed in pitch blackness. Then the sky tore open, peeling back to reveal a twisting void of shadows that made the midnight sky seem bright by comparison. The image of a woman appeared, tall as a skyscraper, pale as a corpse. She wore an ornate gown of deep brown and bittersweet orange. Her scarlet lips were drawn tight in a frown.

"Badiane-sama!" Poupelin gasped, dropping to one knee.

"The time of my awakening draws near," the queen rumbled in a deep, sonorous, honey-on-gravel voice. "What's taking you so long? Bring the child to me!"

Poupelin continued to grovel. "Forgive me, queen. It's my brother. That girl has put strange ideas into his head."

"She has nothing to do with it!" insisted Perle, knowing that he wasn't fooling either of them. "Brother! When did you come to love violence?"

"I don't. You're the one disrupting our plans."

"Your plans are evil!"

"Be quiet, Perle," Poupelin hissed through gritted teeth, nodding his head ever so slightly toward Badiane. Aloud, for her benefit, he added, "You'll understand when you're older."

"That's an adult's excuse for doing things even a kid knows are wrong," Chibi Moon shot back.

"It's for their own good! And ours!" Poupelin declared, and Perle realized with dismay that he believed what he was saying.

"That's right," Badiane crooned. "This impertinent child doesn't know any better. But I'll take pity on her." She reached through the portal with a giant, skeletal hand and seized Chibi Moon.

---

"Noooo!"

Perle sat bolt upright, awakened by his own scream. Only a nightmare, he told himself. That was all in the past now. He brushed back the strands of white hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, trying to calm his ragged breathing.

His companion in the next bunk stirred and peered up at him with sleep-clouded eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," said Perle, swallowing hard. "I just had a dream. About Chibiusa."

Suddenly the other man was wide awake. "Shh! Don't use that name around here."

Perle pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking himself for being so careless. "Right. Sorry."

"That power I gave you has a few side effects. Among other things, you'll have some vivid dreams."

"I'll say. Why can't the good ones ever be that detailed?"

The other man chuckled. "Try to get some sleep. We've got a busy day ahead of us."

Perle fell back onto the lumpy bed with a sigh. He closed his eyes, but sleep was a long time coming.

---

The night was endless, boundless, devoid of all sensation. She was boundless too, a concept without form. She floated through the dark ether, unfettered by mind or body. She was, in a sense, aware of herself, but herself was the whole universe. She was infinite, and she was alone.

But she was not alone.

There was another, a dim shadow of a thought, an ideal deeper than truth. A ghost. Light as a cobweb it brushed against her reality, and it terrified her. This was her sacred ground. There should be nothing here but her, but there was another her. Or was she the other?

Light shimmered down through the murky depths, beckoning her upward. That way was the outside world, with all its pain and uncertainty, its gravity and limitations. She swam toward it. Anything was better than remaining here with the ghost.

The first thing Calomel was aware of as she drifted up through the fog of anesthesia was a blur of red and orange that slowly solidified into Pyrolusite's face. That thought was tied to another: I can see.

Her brother peered down at her anxiously, eager to see the results of his handiwork. "So you're awake. How does it feel?"

"Hurts," she mumbled. She felt like she'd been eating cotton.

He grinned. "It's working, isn't it?"

"Yeah." She looked around the dingy infirmary, testing out the new eye. The focus was not quite right, and once in a while random blocks of color flashed across her vision, like a malfunctioning TV screen. She tried to blink, then remembered that her eyelid was gone.

"The blurriness and noise should improve over time," said Pyrolusite. "Your visual cortex is still integrating with the circuitry, and the lens and aperture have to calibrate themselves to your nerve impulses."

"Everything looks flat."

"Obviously. You've lost your stereoscopic vision. If you would let me replace the other eye—"

She cut him off. "No. I'm keeping one."

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. He finished cleaning the surgical droid and peeled off his rubber gloves. "You should rest. There's a bottle of painkillers on the table; take one in a hour or so. I'll be in the lab."

"Onii-kun?"

He paused in the doorway. "What?"

"Thank you."

He stared at her, dumbfounded, for a few seconds. It wasn't often that he heard those words. Certainly not from Calomel. "Yeah, don't mention it. Come down to the lab when you're feeling up to it. I want to run some tests."

With that, he was gone. Calomel settled back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. After a little while, she reached up and pressed the switch on her new eye. Darkness closed around her as it powered down, and she realized it no longer frightened her. Before, she had defined the world by what she could sense. Before, she had defined herself by the image in the mirror. It was not until that mirror was taken away from her that she'd learned to recognize the self that existed outside. Maybe it never really had been the darkness she was afraid of.

"I am me," she whispered to the empty room.

---

The volunteers had already cleared away most of the debris at Ground Zero. Sailor Mars had made that easy enough—for the most part, ash and soot were all that remained after the battle, and the rain would wash those away. The crystal buildings, imbued with Serenity's magic, were already starting to regenerate themselves. Later the sailor senshi would be along to patch up the most critical spots by lending their own energy. But for now, only a handful of well-meaning souls lingered, wandering around in a mostly fruitless search for ways to be useful. None of them noticed the woman, dressed in the colors of mourning with a shawl draped over her head, skulking along the perimeter with downcast eyes. They probably assumed she was in a state of shock, overwhelmed by grief. Perhaps she had lost someone in the attack and was seeking out the spot where her loved one had died.

That much was true, but had they looked closer, they would have seen a steady resoluteness in her stride. Yes, Petalite was grieving, in a way no other citizen of this glass-walled sanctuary could understand. She had been like them once, wide-eyed and faithful, believing to the last that the White Moon queen would save them. But she had seen it all torn down in war and madness, and she had learned to be her own Messiah. She wasn't like those rebels who had gone over to Wiseman for petty spite and fear of any new thing that challenged their narrow view of the natural order. She respected the royal family for what they were: important symbols of Earth's unity. But she no longer looked to them for deliverance. That was the greatest difference between Moros and Serenity. Moros recognized that her people must find the strength to forge their own destinies. She was a leader, not a sheltering goddess. Power alone made one secure in this world, and power belonged to those with the will to seize it.

Ripidolite must have finally understood that, and it had led her to rebellion. A rash reaction, certainly, but founded on right reasoning. It might have eventually led her to wisdom, had she survived long enough. But now Petalite mourned alone for the woman every other tongue condemned.

As she approached the spot where Ripidolite had made her disastrous last stand, her mind drifted back to one of their last conversations. It had been just after the sailor senshi defeated Ripidolite's servant Jasper, and she had asked Petalite a question that at the time had made her furious.

What she had heard, what had incensed her so, was an insolent girl questioning whether Petalite had the right to call herself her mother. But what Ripidolite had actually asked was, "am I really your daughter?" Which was a different thing entirely. And it was a question she could not answer, because the fear that drove it was not unfounded. Her children's past was, strictly speaking, a lie.

It was justifiable, she told herself. By blood and tears she was their mother. She had earned that. Calomel and Pyrolusite ought to accept what they were told, because it was what they needed to believe. The truth would destroy them.

And yet, Petalite noted with some irony, she found it incredible that Moros would lie to them?

No. She banished the thought. Moros was their benevolent queen. She shared their vision. She would never betray their trust, because she had nothing to hide from them. She loved them.

...like a mother loves her children?

The sound of metal scraping on asphalt made her look down. Her foot brushed had against a pair of long, dark shears. A weaver's tool. Silently, she stooped to pick them up, ran her fingers over the name inscribed in raised letters along the outside of one blade. A false name, and a false history to go with it, but together they formed a person who had been as real to her as any.

"You will soon learn, Ripidolite, that a thing is best judged not by the time it takes to build it, but by the time it takes to destroy it… I care only for that which endures." The last advice she'd given her daughter. She wondered if, knowing how it would all end, she would still have said the same thing.

She slipped the shears into her pocket and nonchalantly strolled out of the square, reaching out with her mind to seek the nearest stable teleport point. She was lucky; there was one in an alley a few blocks away. Coming here had been risky, and sorrow was her only reward. But she dreaded the task that awaited her when she returned to the base even more.

After a moment's consideration, she decided to break the news to Calomel first.

---

Michiru sat by the window in Hotaru's apartment, hands folded over her silk skirt, and waited. A teenage girl's heart was, at times, like an ocean tide: ever changing, ever in motion, but predictable to one who knew its patterns. And though her daughter was approaching her nine hundred twentieth birthday, in many ways she was still a teenager, her body frozen in time by a magical oath that bound her forever to the princess. It was hard for an old soul to dwell so long in a young body. Neptune had asked the queen to allow her to reach her late 30s before stopping her aging—still young enough to fight, but old enough that her physical form reflected at least some of her inner maturity. Not long ago, Jupiter had confided in her that she was starting to wish she'd done the same. But it was harder for Saturn than any of them. She was trapped between two worlds, forever the baby of the queen's senshi, but too often a babysitter to the princess and her posse. Nine centuries of adolescence, and not a single day as a normal girl. Michiru was not at all surprised to hear about Saturn's meltdown. She was only surprised it had taken this long.

The door slid open, and Saturn stumbled in. She didn't see Michiru until she was halfway across the room. Then she froze. Panic flashed across her face, followed by shame. She finally settled on annoyance at the invasion of her privacy.

"Michiru-mama. I wasn't expecting you."

Michiru made her voice stern. "Take off that uniform."

Saturn blinked. "Huh?"

"You don't deserve to wear it right now." And I need to talk to Hotaru.

Saturn paused for only a moment before she obliged. Her purple sailor uniform broke into ribbons and dissolved, leaving her in a plain black frock. Hotaru tiptoed across the room, gingerly seated herself on the end of the bed, and waited to be chastised.

Michiru gazed out the window for a few moments longer, as if she expected to find answers in the maze of crystal streets. "Sounds like you've had a rough week."

She heard Hotaru draw a sharp breath. Compassion was obviously not what she'd expected.

"Jupiter told me about what happened," Michiru continued, finally turning to look her in the eye.

Hotaru winced. "Everything?"

"You were out of line, talking to the queen that way."

"I know," Hotaru mumbled, head drooping. She had already been removed from the scouting mission and issued a formal reprimand for disrespect toward the royalty. It was a slap on the wrist; she suspected the "punishment" was really intended to give her a day of rest, and to give the tension between her and Usagi time to cool. That only made her feel more ashamed.

Michiru found herself wishing Haruka were here. She was so much better at pep talks. But then, maybe what their daughter needed wasn't just a morale boost. Soft aqua light pooled in her hands, forming itself into a golden hand mirror. Her talisman, the Submarine Mirror, was made to seek out truth. She placed it in Hotaru's hands.

"Tell me what you see."

At first, Hotaru jerked back at the sight of her own face. She shifted uncomfortably, but went along with the exercise. For a long time she sat gazing into the glassy surface, lips pursed. Just when Michiru was beginning to wonder if she would answer after all, words slipped from her mouth.

"A hypocrite."

Michiru wanted to hug her, to tell her that was nonsense, that she was the least hypocritical person any of them knew. But stroking her ego now would accomplish nothing. She reached out and gently lifted Hotaru's chin until she could look her in the eyes. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Usagi-chan and Pegasus Kamen could give you a few reasons."

Michiru nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "Ah, yes. That young man who seems to have charmed the princess."

Hotaru swallowed hard. "I acted so high and mighty, treated him like a threat. He wasn't the one who just murdered someone."

Michiru played devil's advocate. "If what you did was murder, then he would most certainly be an accomplice. But it wasn't. You were defending our city."

"That's no excuse," Hotaru argued, tension building in her voice. "I just… judge people in the blink of an eye. I suspect everyone. Guilty unless proven innocent."

"You're a guardian. That's your job."

"That's what I always told myself. But is that the real reason? Or is it because I don't want to be taken in and used again? And I'm angry at Usagi for believing in him so easily, because she reminds me of the Tomoe Hotaru who used to make excuses for her father. She only sees what she wants to see. She can't bear to face reality—can't admit to herself that she's being played. She's so adamant in her delusions that she doesn't even think about the consequences for everyone else. She lied to everyone to protect him!" Her voice broke. "She lied to me."

Michiru said nothing, only held out her arms. Hotaru fell into them like an exhausted child, felt her mother's steady heartbeat washing over her. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

White hair and a gentle smile. Eyes that are always hidden. Pegasus Kamen… looks a little like my father.

---

The door of Pyrolusite's lab slammed open, and a billowing cloud of steam poured in.

He turned, a protest on his lips, and found a bolt of ice hurtling at his face. He jerked his head to the side, but it plastered his shoulder to the wall. Another pinned down his wrist. Calomel stalked toward him, brandishing a sharpened icicle.

"Damn you!" she growled. "You traitor! I'm gonna kill you!"

He gulped as she pressed the point of the icicle to his neck. "What are you—"

"You didn't tell me the target was Ripidolite!" Calomel screamed. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? You killed her! You and that stupid robot of yours killed her, and you used me to do it!"

She saw her brother's face grow pale. "Ripidolite's dead?" he choked out.

Gnashing her teeth, she dug the ice into his skin, felt his throat spasm in terror and pain and confusion. For a few long seconds she held him there. But she knew Pyrolusite. He could craft grand schemes of deception, given time to plan, but on the spot he was a lousy actor.

And he wouldn't kill his own sister.

The weapon slipped from her fingers. She stepped back, and the ice holding him dissolved into vapor. "You didn't know."

His knees buckled and he steadied himself against the wall, shaking his head. "I was just trying to bring her in because Aether said she was…" His brow furrowed. "No. No way. I only used the non-lethal weaponry. Nothing I didn't know she could handle. Taser darts, mini-rockets. They'll make a loud bang, and a direct hit might cause a concussion, but there's no way—She was fine! Injured, maybe, but… She destroyed the 920-M. I don't know where she went after that…" He slid down the wall, sat hard on the floor as the realization hit him. "It was enough to give the sailor soldiers an edge. She should have made short work of them, but they wore her down. Because of me."

"Because of us," Calomel corrected.

Both of them were silent, staring at nothing, as the reality of their loss settled on them. They stood there for a long time that way.

"No," Calomel burst out suddenly, contradicting herself. Her hand clenched into a fist. "Sailor Moon and her traitor senshi killed our sister. It's their fault. Theirs and no one else's."

"It doesn't really matter whose fault it was," said Pyrolusite. "She's gone. There's nothing we can do."

"There's one thing. Revenge."

"Don't be childish," he snorted. "This is a war. People die. You don't get to feel outraged. The strong survive and the weak perish, and people who do stupid things are lucky if they live to regret them. Our sister was unlucky."

"How can you be so heartless?" Calomel cried.

He surged to his feet, amber eyes flashing. "It's kept me alive so far," he hissed. "See where passion got Ripidolite. Do you think you're so much stronger than her? What makes you think you can succeed where she failed?"

He'd half expected Calomel to snap back at him, but she turned away, chin quivering, and said nothing. He watched the pride and anger bleed out of her, until she was like him, a hollow, bitter shell with nothing left to fight for but survival. It was not as satisfying as it should have been, her admitting that he was right.

Then she looked at him, one vacant blue eye and one glowing red, and said something that caught him off guard. "Well… for one thing, I've got you on my side."

Pyrolusite was not (in spite of the company he kept) an unfeeling robot. He merely preferred to catalog his emotions, and quickly discard the ones he didn't find useful. But for once, he found himself without an algorithm to describe the clamor of conflicting thoughts that flooded his mind.

Calomel seemed to mistake the blank stare he was giving her as contempt, because she grew defensive. "You say this is a war, and the strong survive. Well, I've got power that you'll never have. And you… you're smart. In ways that I'm not. Ripidolite knew it too, that's why she stole your idea for the fake senshi. You've come closer to beating them than anyone else. But you couldn't have done it without me. We're stronger together, onii-kun."

Without a word, he rose and went to his lab bench. Opening a compartment on the side, he pulled out what looked like an alien ray gun from a low-budget sci-fi horror flick.

"In order to develop a good AI, one has to understand how intelligent beings make decisions," he said. "How they form priorities. In other words, their motivations. If I could recreate that process within a machine, I thought, perhaps I could also learn how to influence it in living organisms." He placed the gun in Calomel's hands. "Another gift from the Carnelian Project."

"Mind control?" Calomel whispered, staring at the weapon with a mixture of fear and avarice.

"Almost. It uses electromagnetic frequencies to induce a state similar to hypnosis. You can't make a person do something she doesn't want to do, per se, but you can remove all those pesky inhibitions. Find the right pressure points, and she'll believe anything you tell her. I've tested it successfully on rats. So far, I haven't had much luck with humans, but then, I'm not particularly fond of dealing with them. That's where you come in."

A smile gradually spread over Calomel's face. She'd actually heard her brother admit, in so many words, that he needed her.

"I've been thinking you were right about something," he added in reflective tones. "I should have made Carnelian more… charming and flirtatious. I thought sincerity would be best to gain their trust, but look at what that jackass in the white tuxedo did to them without even trying. They don't trust him at all, and yet they've let him tear them apart." He threw up his hands. "I don't understand women at all."

Calomel suppressed a giggle. "Then you'd have failed at flirting anyway. Do you miss Carnelian?"

"If I missed her, I'd build her again. Right now we've got more important things to do. As you know, we've been tracking the sailor soldiers' movements. Based on the pattern of their appearances, we're able to narrow down where their civilian identities are likely to reside, and we can start building a profile of their daily routines. For example, we already know that Moon, Saturn, and Pallas attend Crystal Juuban Public, while Ceres, based on her response time, is at another school 2-5 kilometers away." He tapped the gun. "Use that to turn the people of Crystal Tokyo against them. Create a public disturbance. Ping the map, see who shows up first. We'll map out the rats' nest. And then…"

"And then?" Calomel prompted.

A dark smile twisted his lips. "What else do you do with vermin?"

---

Usagi and her friends wormed their way through a dense crowd of autograph-seekers in the pit, trying not to step on any toes. Seresu apologized to everyone they jostled, while Atena juggled enough junk food to feed a small village and Beth tried to keep her face covered just in case anyone might recognize her. Usagi doubted any of the bikers would be overly excited by the presence of a teen pageant queen or even a princess, but she followed Beth's lead anyway. Junko wasn't there. In her excitement to see the show, she had run into the arena ahead of them and was probably already saving their seats. Of course, she was the only one who knew where their seats were.

"Aha! A map!" Seresu exclaimed, pointing to a signboard posted along the outer wall, in exactly the opposite direction that everyone else was moving. The girls squeezed through a veritable wall of sweaty flesh and leather jackets and finally reached the (faded and not entirely to scale) map. While Seresu was trying to puzzle out where they were, the rest of the crowd dispersed and found their seats. The girls were so preoccupied that they didn't hear the doors shutting behind them as the show began. All of a sudden, Usagi felt someone squeeze one of her odango.

"Cute hair," a teenage boy's voice rasped in her ear. "You look just like the princess of Crystal Tokyo."

Usagi turned her head just far enough to size up the stranger. He was tall, even slouching, with bleach-blond hair that stuck out at crazy angles from under a bright red sweatband, and his pants looked three sizes too big. He clearly thought himself quite charming, by the way he had planted his hand against the wall to trap her. His fingers trailed down her cheek to brush her shoulder in a way that made her stomach turn.

A pair of shorter boys trailed him like guard dogs. The matching red bandannas tied around their necks even reminded Usagi of collars. The one on the left was a snaggle-toothed bulldog, underbite and all, who panted and grinned stupidly the whole time. The one on the right was more of a husky, with shaggy black hair and piercing blue eyes that stared at the girls as a predator might regard a piece of raw meat. Only then did she realize that the atrium was empty except for herself, her friends, and the three of them. With all the clamor from the show, no one would hear them out here.

All three boys had lecherous thoughts written on their faces—the two sidekicks were silently negotiating over who got Beth and who got Seresu. (They ignored Atena, as boys generally did. She was lucky that way.) The leader, meanwhile, had clearly selected Usagi for himself, and was looking down at her with a condescending smirk that made her blood boil.

"You're pretty," he drawled. "Why don't you come sit with us?"

"Thank you, but we already have our tickets," said Seresu, edging away from them. "And look, the show has started. We'll be going now."

The shortest boy grabbed her arm. "Wouldn't you rather sit in my lap?"

Usagi decided to put them in their place.

She tossed back her bangs, letting the light glint off the golden crescent on her forehead. Lots of people wore the odango hair style these days, and even pink hair was common enough, but only the royal family had that mark.

"Holy crap, she's really the princess!" the bulldog yelped and jumped back, knocking over a garbage can. He scrambled to his feet and would have kept running if the leader hadn't grabbed the back of his shirt. The look on the husky's face was priceless. He was practically clinging to the leader. But if his lackeys were intimidated, the blond boy's eyes gleamed all the brighter at the unexpected revelation.

"Well, well. Your Highness," he said with a bow that seemed almost mocking. "This must be my lucky day."

"L-let's get out of here, boss," the bulldog whined, still trying to free himself from his companion's grip.

The other nodded in agreement, eyeing Usagi with pure malice. "It's not worth it. The sailor soldiers'd skin us alive if they caught us messing with her."

"Shut up, wimps!" the leader snapped. His voice switched back to faux-tenderness as he turned back to Usagi. "Now, where were we?"

Gritting her teeth, Usagi whipped a can of pepper spray out of her pocket and aimed it at his nose. Incredibly, he still didn't back down, only gave her what he seemed to think was an endearing look. "Come on, babe. Do you have to be like tha—tch!"

A vice-like grip on his collarbone cut him short, and a familiar voice asked, "Is this guy bothering you, Princess?"

Junko had finally decided to come looking for them. Usagi sighed in relief (mostly at not having to use the pepper spray) and nodded.

"That's what I thought."

Without batting an eye, Junko drove her knee into the side of his ribcage. He dropped to the ground, gasping, and she booted him once for good measure. Seeing their leader incapacitated, the two sidekicks took off running without looking back. Junko shoved the blond boy's face into the concrete, pinned his shoulder to the ground, and started twisting his arm as Usagi watched in mute horror.

"I believe that's quite enough," Seresu admonished after a few long seconds. The look on her face suggested that she didn't entirely disapprove of the punishment Junko was dishing out, but as leader of the Quartet, she had to keep her team on the moral high ground. With public suspicion running high thanks to the false senshi and Moirae attacks, the last thing the royal family needed was another scandal.

"Where I'm from, if a guy doesn't know how to respect a woman, we figure he's not smart enough to understand much else except pain," Junko growled, "Now apologize!" she shouted into the boy's ear.

"Mmrph," he gurgled.

She grabbed his hair and jerked his face up off the pavement. "I didn't hear you."

The boy's face was a mess of tears and mucus. "Oww!" he sniveled, flopping like a dying fish.

"That didn't sound like an apology to me!"

There was no telling what she might have done if Beth hadn't intervened. "Junko-chan," she said softly. "Don't stoop to his level."

Junko hesitated, and looked at Usagi.

Biting her lip, Usagi nodded in agreement. "He's sorry now. He won't bother me any more. Isn't that right?" she asked the boy, hoping for his own sake that he would say yes.

"Yeah, okay! Sorry!" he yelped when Junko's knee nudged his bruised side again.

"Let him go," Usagi commanded.

Junko released her hold on the boy, though none too eagerly. "Yes, ma'am."

He scrambled to his feet and took off running. "Crazy bitch!" he yelled over his shoulder just before disappearing around a corner.

Junko snorted in disgust. "Yeah, he was sorry all right," she muttered.

"Mom would have let him go," Usagi said, trying to reassure herself.

"Are you okay, Usagi-chan?" Atena asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

For her sake, Usagi put on a smile. "Yeah. Don't worry about me."

"I agree that we shouldn't resort to street justice," Seresu said with a sideways glance at Junko. "But don't you think we ought to have called security? Behavior like that is nothing short of harassment."

"It's okay." Usagi dusted off her skirt and started walking toward the arena. "Come on, we're running late."

"It's not okay!" Junko exclaimed as the four chased after her. "Forgiveness is one thing, just letting him off scot-free when he's not showing the least bit of remorse is another!"

"That was letting him off?" Atena muttered.

"Nothing bad happened," Usagi insisted, quickening her footsteps. She wanted to forget the whole ordeal. "Why should I ask a bunch of underpaid security guards for help when I have four sailor soldiers protecting me?"

"But what about the next girl he picks on?" asked Seresu.

Usagi stopped, guilt flashing across her face. She hadn't thought of that.

She shook her head and kept walking. "Come on, we're late."

---

At three in the afternoon, the Glass Hour was empty, and Hotaru was immensely grateful for that fact. She slumped against the far end of the bar, nursing a dry London gin, and cocooned herself in bitterness. She hated the Moirae. She hated her father for selling his soul to alien invaders, and for dying. She almost hated Usagi, and immediately hated herself for it. She even hated her drink—which was exactly the reason she'd ordered it. It gave focus to all the ugliness that was brewing inside her.

But underneath it all, she didn't hate anyone. She was just tired of feeling bad about herself for trying to do the right thing.

Her talk with Michiru had given her a modicum of clarity. She was not a hypocrite. She believed in the things she fought for. If being a sailor soldier meant she occasionally had to perform unsavory duties in the name of protecting her princess, she would do it without hesitation. Still, a little gratitude—not even gratitude, just a little understanding—once in a while would be nice.

She hadn't spoken a word to Usagi since the last battle. The memory of their fight replayed itself unbidden within her mind. She drowned it with another swig of the disgusting beverage, ground her teeth as she felt it burning down her throat. Though her friend's words had been hurtful enough, Hotaru hadn't expected them to gnaw at her this way. It had been centuries since Professor Tomoe's death. She should be over it by now. Unlike many people who faced tragedy, she'd literally been granted a new beginning, a chance to start over as an infant with a new family, a new life, a new destiny.

And yet, the old destiny lingered. No amount of happiness would just make the loss of her birth father go away. Even if he didn't deserve her mourning, even if the real man had died before she had a chance to know him, he was her father, and he was a part of her. All the love Haruka, Michiru, and Setsuna showered upon her could not perfectly erase that wound.

It made her wonder what else was still lurking below the surface.

She could recall in perfect detail the day the familiar voice had whispered to her, while she was soaking in the bath, of all things. She had climbed into the tub as a child, and emerged as a teenager. With a towel hastily wrapped around herself, she had run down the hall and looked into the mirror to see Saturn the Destroyer looking back at her. That time the senshi had needed her in the fight against Nehellenia. Then it was Galaxia. Then Death Phantom. There was always something forcing her to take up the glaive again. At least it was under her control this time, its destructive influence buffered by her new, stable human body and the healing power of Serenity's love. And Usagi.

Setsuna had told her once that if you could find one good thing in the midst of a tragedy, it would be enough to let you live on without regrets. Meeting Usagi had been her one good thing. Whenever doubts and sorrows from her past threatened to overtake her, she could remind herself that if all of those horrible things hadn't happened, she would never have met her best friend. But now that friend was the one to rip open the scars. Over a boy.

It was all Pegasus Kamen's fault.

Her logic was indefensible and she knew it, but she allowed herself to entertain the thought for a while. It made her feel a tiny bit better than blaming herself or Usagi. After all, he was suspicious. He did resemble her father in a superficial way—she could see that now—but no, her apprehension was justified. At least once he had managed to sneak into the training facility undetected. That alone was dangerous enough, but knowing what she knew now, that he had enough contact with the Moirae to know the location of their base…

And yet, on that occasion when she'd caught him sneaking around the palace, he had managed to talk his way out of it, and even convinced her to heal him! What was she thinking? She was as bad as Usagi!

She realized that her whole body was tensing up at the thought of him, and forced herself to take a deep breath. She reached for the glass of gin again, then thought the better of it, remembering that she weighed all of 50 kilos soaking wet, and rarely drank other than on holidays.

She needed someone to talk to.

"Why the long face, honey?"

Hotaru's head popped up, startled by the unexpected voice. The bartender, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with wild black and purple hair that hung over half her face, was smiling down at her with a hint of concern.

"Oh, I…" Hotaru paused to clear her throat. "Nothing. I'm sorry, are you closing?"

The woman's orchid-painted lips quirked up in coy smile. "No, take your time. You were staring so hard, I couldn't help but ask."

Hotaru sighed and traced her finger over a ring of condensation on the countertop. "My friend likes a guy, but I think he's trouble. She won't listen to me when I try to warn her."

"Ah… haven't we all been there?" the woman said with a knowing smile. She grabbed a stool and seated herself across from Hotaru. "The name's Nocturne, by the way. I own this joint." She laughed at Hotaru's startled look. "Not quite what you'd expect, hm?"

Hotaru caught herself staring at Nocturne's amethyst nose stud and blushed. "I'm Tomoe," she said quickly. "My friends and I are big fans of your restaurant."

"I know. I've seen you in here a few times before." Again Hotaru's surprise elicited a chuckle. "Keen observation is key in my business. But it doesn't take a genius to see that you hate that drink." In a twinkling she produced a glass of ice and a bottle of water from under the counter. "Here. On the house."

Hotaru hesitated only a moment before gratefully draining the glass. She felt better already.

Nocturne leaned forward on her elbows. "Now I don't like to be nosy, Tomoe-san, but if you want my advice, I say stick to your guns. If you've got a bad feeling about this guy, then there's a reason for it. Protect her from him, even if it strains your friendship, and she'll thank you in the long run. If she's a good friend."

"She is a good friend."

"Then don't you think she'd do the same for you?"

Hotaru fell silent. What would Usagi do? she wondered to herself. Would she try to stop me? If I liked a man like Pegasus Kamen…

Immediately she clamped her mind shut on that thought. As if she'd ever be so foolish! For one thing, Pegasus Kamen might very well be the Moirae's informant. She recalled Ripidolite's words during the last battle.

"Well," Nocturne said briskly, standing up. "Come on back any time you need a drink, or somebody to talk to. I take good care of my regulars."

Hotaru murmured thanks and asked for her check.

On her way out the door, she paused to glance back. For some reason, she had a strange feeling about Nocturne. She was positive she'd never seen the woman before, but… maybe she should tell Usagi.

No, it was nothing, she decided. Just too much to drink and not enough sleep. Yawning, she turned up the street toward her apartment.

---

The whine of hydrogen thrusters punctured the air as several dozen bikes crested the hill at the center of the arena, kicking up clouds of dust in their wake. Beth and Junko leapt from their seats with whoops of exhilaration, while Atena bounced and clapped her hands, spilling some of her popcorn.

Their two pink-haired companions did their best not to yawn.

"How long have we been here?" Usagi whispered to Seresu.

Seresu checked her watch and sighed. "Not even an hour." She cringed as the riders' tires slammed into the dirt, splattering mud all over the wall of the arena and the first few rows of onlookers. "You know, there's a reason we invented hovercars…"

Usagi nodded in agreement. "Looks like they're enjoying it, though," she observed, pointing to the mud-stained fans. Indeed, they were cheering all the louder.

Seresu shrugged. "To each their own, I suppose."

"You see that orange TC-250?" Junko was saying to Beth and Atena. She pointed to a bike near the front of the pack. "That's Vita Jokumsen's granddaughter, Astrid."

"Who?" Atena asked.

"The woman who lead the charge for gender de-segregation in motor sports," Junko explained. "Did you know in some places men and women competed in separate events as late as the 23rd century? The women's events always got smaller budgets, smaller prizes, and less media attention, so of course they weren't as competitive. And then people would say it's because women aren't as good. But she entered the men's competition anyway, and she left 'em all in the dust!"

"I remember reading about that," said Beth. "I mentioned her as one of my role models in my speech at the 2912 Miss East Java competition."

Junko gave her a surprised look. "You were into motocross back then?"

"Er, no," Beth said sheepishly. "I was going to talk about Audrey Hepburn. But one of the other contestants had already picked a movie star as her role model, and I didn't want to seem like I was copying her. You see, that kind of malarkey is exactly the reason I quit!"

Junko laughed out loud. "Well, in any case, you have heard of her."

"Yeah. I didn't know she and her partner had adopted any children, though."

"They didn't. But they had two."

"Huh? But… wasn't her partner Rryulan?" Beth asked, confused.

"Yeah. They used something called the chimera fusion technique. They did a whole interview about it in Science Today."

Seresu's interest was piqued. "I've heard of that. Basically, they stick two cells together and induce them to start dividing. The resulting embryo has two distinct sets of genes, one from each parent. But I don't know how they managed to… Rryula normally lay eggs, don't they?"

"So, it's actually really cool. Over on Chuu they've got this artificial incubation tank thing. Almost everybody there uses them, because why wouldn't you? Unless you got pregnant by accident or something, but in this day and age you'd have to be pretty dumb to…" She trailed off, noticing the panicked look in Seresu's eyes and the way Usagi was shaking her head in a stop-talking-right-now kind of way.

Seresu glanced toward Atena, who graciously pretended not to notice.

"Ah, um, anyway. The tank. So they got one and modded it a little."

Beth's eyebrow quirked up. "Isn't that kind of unethical?"

"No, no, these folks on Chuu know what they're doing. Totally safe."

"Wait," said Seresu. "Wait. How do we not have this on Earth? One of my uncles was on bed rest for his entire third trimester and nearly died of complications, and you're telling me all of that could have been avoided?"

Junko nodded. "The thing is, right after their second daughter was born, a handful of special interests pushed through an interplanetary treaty that banned chimera fusion along with the exchange of artificial womb technology. So basically, they know how to make them but they can't tell us or they'll get kicked out of the Alliance."

Atena frowned. "Why?"

"Who knows? I guess people think it's against nature or something. You know what's really unnatural? Funnel cakes." She tore off a piece of deep-fried deliciousness and shoved it into her mouth. "Here's how much I care."

"Some elements of sailor crystal power are thought to be genetic," Usagi said softly.

"Oh…" Dismay filled Atena's face as she realized what Usagi was implying. "They thought we'd start breeding super soldiers."

"As if Serenity would do something like that!" Junko scoffed.

"Actually, I can see the cause for concern," said Seresu after a moment's reflection. "Perhaps our queen wouldn't allow it, but do you think that say, the Phidaran Senate would be so scrupulous?"

"Didn't they strip the last Sailor Phidara of her power for starting a war?" Junko asked.

"No," Usagi said with a grimace. "They stripped her of her power for losing."

"Oh. Yikes."

Atena licked popcorn grease off her fingers and hoped they would start talking about something more interesting soon.

"Well, even so, we shouldn't let fear of what a few bad guys might do ruin something that could help so many people," Beth declared.

"I think we can if it would prevent another Sailor War," Seresu insisted. "Can you imagine what it would be like? To be looked at as a weapon instead of a person?"

"We're looked at differently regardless," Usagi sighed in a voice audible to no one but herself. We were born sailor soldiers. Our lives and our fates are different, whether we admit it or not.

"But Garnier-san," Junko was saying, "can you imagine what it would be like to know that you and the person you love can never have a child together, all because of some paranoid politicians?"

"There's always adoption. Or good old-fashioned somatic cell nuclear transfer."

"Well yeah, but… I dunno. It's not quite the same."

"It sounds as though you believe that if a child doesn't share her parents' DNA, she isn't really a part of their family."

"That's not what I meant! I just—gosh, it wouldn't matter at all to me, but some people want their kid to look like them, you know?"

"You're aware that Hotaru-chan is adopted, right? Her parents seem to love her just the same, even if she doesn't look like them."

"Please don't drag Hotaru-chan into your arguments," Usagi felt compelled to say.

Junko opened her mouth to reply, then thought the better of it when she noticed how uncomfortable her other three friends looked. Instead she just smiled at Seresu. "I like talking to you, Pinky. You've always got an interesting point of view."

Seresu grew flustered. "Y-you're changing the subject."

"I think we've had quite enough of this subject," Usagi said, to Atena's relief.

"Very well, then. What shall we talk about?" Seresu asked.

"Boys," Usagi decided, crushing Atena's hopes of any conversation in which she would be remotely interested. "Have you managed to ask Julian-san on a date yet?"

Seresu's cheeks went from pink to red, and she answered in a hurry, "No, and I have no intention of doing so. What gave you such an idea? If Julian-san is at all interested in me, he could do a little more to show it—I've no interest in a man who's too shy to ask me out. And if not, you won't catch me pining over him. I'm not one of those girls who needs arm candy to bolster her self-worth."

Atena and Junko had already returned to watching the bikers, but Beth gave Seresu a wicked grin. "You talk too much."

"You assume too much!" Seresu shot back. "With all due respect, Princess, I don't believe you need to concern yourselves with my personal life."

"Ah, but when it's Helios and I…"

Seresu's only reply was a blank stare. Usagi thought she had the upper hand, and was about to continue with a smug remark, when she realized that her friend's eyes were actually fixed on something behind her. She turned, and could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw a pair of solemn-faced police officers, and between them, the boy who had tried to molest her a while ago.

"Pardon me, ma'am," the shorter of the officers, a stout, round-faced woman, said with a bow that conveyed hints of embarrassment. "This young man tells us that you and your friends assaulted him."

"It was her," the boy said, pointing at Junko. "She's the one who tried to break my arm."

"You yellow-bellied weasel," Junko began, rising from her seat. Her friends had to hold her back. Atena and Seresu were too appalled to speak; Beth had too much sense. But Usagi lowered her eyes.

"It wasn't her fault," she said, standing up. "I made her do it."

Her friends gasped, and immediately broke into a chorus of denials, but she brushed past them and stood before her accuser.

"I had her beat him up for me because he was bugging me." Usagi was purposely spinning the story to make herself sound bad, trying to draw the condemnation she was certain she deserved (though perhaps not for the right reasons.)

I used my crescent moon mark to scare them. The most sacred symbol of our heritage, and I used it to bully the people I'm supposed to be protecting!

The first officer still looked skeptical, but the second, for his part, was eyeing her sternly and seemed more than willing to believe the allegations. Not everyone in Crystal Tokyo held such a rosy opinion of the monarchy. Contrary to what many outside their kingdom believed, Serenity and Endymion tolerated and even welcomed dissent, as long as no one tried to incite violence. In fact, they received their critics with such fair-minded graciousness, and were so well respected even by those who disagreed with them, that within their court there was a perpetual air of civility that was the envy of many other star systems. But the recent trouble with the Moirae had damaged their image, and as of late there were rumblings of a more sinister kind.

By now, the commotion had attracted attention from the nearby audience members, and they were craning their necks to see what would happen.

Usagi lifted her nose haughtily. "I'm a princess," she told the boy. "You should have known I was out of your league."

Now disgruntled murmers rippled through the crowd.

"She thinks she's above the law," someone whispered.

"What a spoiled brat!" said another.

"Is that really how it happened?" the first police officer asked.

"No!" Usagi's friends exclaimed in unison.

"Yeah, that's what happened. She admits it," said the boy, eager to seize on any opportunity to get revenge.

Frowning, the officer waved aside the others' remarks and focused on Usagi. "Do you dispute the charges, Tsukino-san?"

Usagi's face hardened stubbornly and she shook her head. "No."

That was all the invitation the other officer needed. "Hands behind your backs, please. Both of you. I will now read you your rights under section 2472.1 of the Crystal Tokyo Metropolitan Revised Criminal Justice Code…"

"Way to throw me under the bus, Usagi-chan!" Junko exclaimed angrily as he cuffed her. Beth smacked her forehead, wishing Junko would keep her mouth shut for once. Her comment served to frame them better than anything the boy could have said.

Usagi blinked, not quite comprehending what was happening. "Wait a minute. I said it was me! Let Junko-chan go!"

"I'm afraid not," said the other officer. "You just admitted that she attacked the victim. If you thought you could get her out of trouble because you're royalty, you were mistaken."

Beth struggled for words. "Who's the victim here?"

"You can't do this!" Seresu cried.

"The law applies equally to everyone, ma'am," he replied crisply.

"Where's your proof? It's his word against ours!" Seresu argued.

"This isn't fair!" Beth agreed.

"We're just going to hold them for questioning until we can figure out what really happened," the woman explained in what she meant to be calming tones.

"Then why aren't you holding him?" Seresu demanded to know.

"Calm down, or you can all spend the night in jail," her partner threatened.

Atena burst into tears. Her loud wailing drowned out everything anybody else tried to say for several minutes. At length the man led the handcuffed Junko and Usagi toward the stadium exit, while the woman tried to push back the increasingly curious crowd. Their friends followed at a distance, Seresu already dialing the Crystal Palace on her cell phone. Serenity would surely have intervened, and the whole matter might have been settled quietly, if Junko hadn't happened to glance back and catch the gaze of the blond-haired boy. He saw her looking at him, and gave her a self-satisfied smirk.

And Junko lost it.

Thrashing and yelling vulgarities in a peppered mixture of English and Japanese, she wrenched herself free of the policeman and tried to kick him in the shins. Her aim was too high, and he dropped to the ground, wheezing in pain. The female officer was too shocked to do anything before Junko knocked her to the ground. With her hands still bound behind her back, she made a headlong charge at the boy.

Before she could reach him, though, a throng of angry citizens formed a wall in front of him. Junko couldn't stop herself from barreling into them, and they soon wrestled her to the ground.

"Don't, Junko! Stop it! Let her go!" Usagi shrieked, tears streaming down her face.

"You don't own us, Princess!" one of the brave ones shouted from somewhere in the back.

"We won't be slaves of the Silver Galactica!" another chimed in. (Though originally a disparaging term for the Alliance, the term had found its way into Earth's lingo via intergalactic newscasts, and was now being eagerly misused by Terran pundits—most of whom knew nothing about the history of the Sailor Wars or Galaxia—to criticize the queen.)

Junko had disappeared, hidden by a throng of curious onlookers who craned their necks to watch the group that was trying to hold her down. Usagi forced her way between them, trying to reach her friend, and soon was out of sight as well.

From her perch at the top of the row, Calomel frowned. This was getting out of hand. The princess was in trouble, and no sign of the sailor senshi. Some guardians they were! If they didn't show up soon, she decided she would have to intervene herself. She rested her finger on the trigger of Pyrolusite's odd-looking weapon.

Below, Seresu exchanged a meaningful glance with the other two senshi. They might be compromising their identities, but there was no choice. The three huddled together, hoping that no one would see their faces.

"Ceres Star Power!"

"Pallas Star Power!"

"Vesta Star Power!"

"Make Up!" they shouted together. Shocked gasps emanated from the crowd, and they were temporarily distracted from Junko and Usagi.

Calomel rejoiced in her unexpected luck. Never mind mapping out the rat's nest. All the little rats had come to her. Well, most of them, anyway. Juno was missing, and that pesky Sailor Saturn. Which was odd, since she and Sailor Moon were usually first on the scene, especially where the princess was involved. Speaking of the princess… Calomel squinted, trying to peer through the wall of sweaty bodies, but it was no use.

Sailor Ceres momentarily commanded the people's attention, and was trying to talk some sense into them. Maybe half of them were listening, but the other half shouted back obscenities and grew all the more rowdy. Pallas appeared to be holding Vesta back.

Then a burst of pink sparkles and green lightning exploded from somewhere within the crowd, sending a few people flying backwards into the stands. A wave of static rippled across the stadium. Unfortunately for Calomel, that caused the electronics in her artificial eye to go haywire, and for a few seconds her vision was taken over by a seizure-inducing pattern of random lights and colors. With an annoyed grunt, she switched the thing off and back on. When she got it working again, she was greeted by the sight of Sailor Juno standing in the middle of a ring of nervous onlookers, one arm wrapped protectively around… Sailor Moon?

Calomel's jaw dropped. Why was Juno protecting her instead of the princess? There was only one explanation. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces fell into place. Sailor Moon, that good-for-nothing traitor, was planning a coup, and the princess's guardians had already gone over to her side. They weren't quite ready to make their move against the royal family yet, but in a crisis, it was abundantly clear where their loyalties lay.

Juno's brash move had done little to win the sympathy of the crowd, even the ones who hadn't figured out that she was the same green-haired girl who had started this whole mess. All of them eyed the senshi with increasing fear and loathing.

Calomel couldn't have planned it any better herself (except maybe the part where the princess had gone missing.) She took aim at a random person: a chubby, balding man with grease stains on his pants, and activated the mind-control device. It made a low humming sound, and waves of orange light emanated from the barrel. The light seeped into his eyes, until they too glowed a dull orange. Immediately, he turned toward her, mouth slightly agape, face blank and empty. Waiting for orders.

"Attack Sailor Moon!" Calomel commanded.

His pleasantly plump features twisted into a look of maniacal rage, and he charged down the aisle with a bloodthirsty yell. Ceres and Vesta intercepted him before he could reach his target, and struggled to hold him back without hurting him. Moon cringed and hid her face in Juno's sleeve, while Pallas made ineffectual pleas for everyone to calm down.

Satisfied, Calomel swept the gun over the whole crowd. In moments the orange light invaded their eyes, and they were putty in her hands. With pointing fingers and fists in the air, they fed off one another's rage, heaping insults on Serenity and her family. Soon they were spouting xenophobic rhetoric about Lunarian influence that hadn't been heard since the days of the Black moon. It made her sick to hear it, but she would use it if it meant getting revenge.

"Now!" she screeched, pointing to the arena. "Throw the sailor soldiers down there!"

There was no way the five girls could hold back several thousand people without hurting them. It was ironic, Calomel thought with bitter amusement. If they only knew what the senshi were plotting! These fools would martyr them for the very establishment they sought to destroy. It served them all right, she thought.

Sailor Moon screamed as the crowd heaved her over the arena wall and into the dirt. She heard four wet splats as her guardian senshi followed her. Pallas groaned in pain, Ceres in disgust and mortification.

"Ugh! If I didn't think it would get us killed, I'd redo my transformation right now just to get clean!"

"Come on, it's only dirt," Vesta began, but was interrupted by what sounded like a barbarian war cry.

"Yeeeaaaah!" Juno roared, hurling two fistfuls of mud at the men who had just tossed her down. "Yeah, you want some more? Come get it!" With a raucous laugh, she scooped up another wad.

The other three senshi stared at the undignified display for a few seconds. Then Pallas let out a little cheer and joined in with a good deal more enthusiasm than was appropriate for the situation.

"Cut it out, you two," Ceres scolded. "Something isn't right here. Those people weren't just angry, they were insane."

Pallas and Juno stopped, looking sheepish. Suddenly an ominous rumbling filled the air, growing louder and more high-pitched as it approached. The sound of engines.

"Bikers at ten o'clock!" Pallas yelped, pointing. The other senshi turned to see a wall of headlamps rushing at them.

"Scatter!" Ceres shouted, and wasted no time following her own orders. The five of them dove for cover just in time as the bikers went flying past. Mud splattered against the wall as they skidded to a stop and turned to try again.

Pallas and Vesta ended up hiding under the same ramp. "Ceres is right," Pallas whispered, peeking out at the rows of cruel, eager faces staring down at them. "They're acting really strange. And look at their eyes!"

"Huh," Vesta said with a frown. "They're all orange. That is weir—look out!" She pulled Pallas's head down just in time before a pair of bikes went roaring over them. Moments later, they heard Sailor Moon scream. Abandoning all thought for their own safety, they scrambled up the ramp to find her.

They made it in time to see the biker duo narrowly miss their princess. She had her wand out, but couldn't bring herself to use it. The two bikers peeled off in wide arcs and came around for another pass, chasing her through a narrow tunnel. Bit by bit, they forced her back toward the wall. Ceres was running for her life with three more of them hot on her tail. Juno had shimmied up a light pole to escape and was now trapped, with a pair circling below her like sharks. Pallas and Vesta were the only ones who could help Sailor Moon now. But before they could reach her, the two bikers who had been chasing her spun abruptly and doubled back, headed straight for them. They had to jump out of the way again, and tumbled back down the ramp.

A hush fell over the stadium. The hypnotized crowd turned toward a tall hill near the edge of the arena, right in front of where Sailor Moon stood with her back to the wall. At the top stood a lone rider on an orange Husqvarna. It was Astrid Jokumsen. She pulled off her helmet, and the wind whipped her long, flaxen ponytail. The same strange orange glow was in her eyes as she glared down at Sailor Moon. Her engine gave a menacing growl as she revved it once, twice.

With a shriek, she charged down the slope full-throttle, blue light flaring from her thrusters. Sailor Moon tried to evade her, but Astrid's eyes were sharp and her reflexes were quick; she anticipated every move and adjusted her course to run her target down. Pallas and Vesta got to their feet again and ran to help, but it was too late…

At the last second, a flash of white streaked across the track, and Sailor Moon found herself flying through the air in Pegasus Kamen's arms. He had sprouted a pair of feathery white wings, and a few powerful flaps carried the two of them to safety.

Unable to stop herself, Astrid had to bail from her bike. It slammed into the arena wall and burst into flames while she went tumbling through the dirt.

Pegasus Kamen fluttered to the ground a safe distance away and gently set Sailor Moon on her feet. She could only stare in wonder as he folded his wings beneath his cape, where they vanished. He bowed in apology to the fallen woman.

"These people aren't really angry with you," he told Sailor Moon. "They're being controlled."

She was silent, her eyes fixed on the burning wreckage. She wanted to believe him, but their hatred had seemed real enough before they threw her into the arena. It was true that they seemed unusually violent, but after the show she'd put on she couldn't blame them.

To her surprise, he clasped her hand between his and looked into her eyes with earnest concern. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said softly. "Please don't punish yourself anymore."

Suddenly, she found herself blushing and crying at the same time. Embarrassed, she tried to hide it by pretending to cough. "I didn't… but I just… it doesn't seem right. For me to be protected above everyone else, like I'm so special. Maybe I don't want to be special anymore." She swallowed hard and looked up at him. "I'm so tired of all the fighting."

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Just remember that you're not alone."

Meanwhile, the three bikes chasing Ceres were closing on their quarry fast. She was tired, and running out of tricks. Just when she was certain they would run her down, she heard the sound of slipping tires, and her pursuers went spinning out of control on a sheet of ice. She looked back to see Pallas waving at her.

"Thanks," she breathed, thoroughly winded now that the adrenaline rush was over. "Where's Sailor Moon?"

"She's okay. That guy saved her again," Pallas said, pointing.

Ceres looked up the hill to see her princess apparently in a deep and meaningful conversation with Pegasus Kamen. She watched with mixed emotions as he caught hold of her hands and said something that moved Sailor Moon to tears. He certainly seemed to care about her, but Ceres knew by now that the Moirae specialized in manipulation and deceit. She might not be as eager to condemn him as Saturn seemed to be—after all, the only concrete evidence against him was a throwaway comment by a deranged psychopath—but she could still imagine a number of ways that this affair might end very badly.

A more immediate concern for their own safety soon took over, when she saw the pair who had been chasing Pallas and Vesta earlier coming around the track. A meaningful glance passed between Ceres and Pallas, and in an instant a plan was formed. They took off in a sprint in opposite directions. The two bikers separated to chase them. The senshi led them up and down hills and through tunnels toward a massive tabletop jump at the center of the track. Pallas let her pursuer close on her until she could feel the heat of his engine. She made a last desperate charge up the ramp, and just as she reached the top, flopped on her belly in the dirt. She felt Ceres land beside her. As predicted, the bikers behind them went soaring over their heads on a collision course.

But before they could crash, Ceres rolled onto her back and held her palms to the sky. "Fragrant Cornucopia!"

A whirlwind of light caught the bikers, holding them suspended in midair. Pallas sniffed curiously as a sweet scent wafted up around them. She gave Ceres a puzzled glance as the other senshi lowered their would-be attackers to the ground. Both were draped over their handlebars, snoring softly.

"Lavender and chamomile," Ceres explained. "It put them right to sleep."

"Wow!" Pallas marveled.

A few seconds later, Sailor Moon and Pegasus Kamen joined them on the hilltop. With a brief smile of thanks to him, Sailor Moon ran to her senshi. "Ceres, you were right. Everyone's being brainwashed. We have to find out who's behind this."

Ceres frowned, looking up at a spot in the stands. "Shouldn't be terribly difficult."

The others turned to see Calomel perched on the guardrail, waving at them. "Yoo-hoo! Over here, you little traitors!" she called.

"I should have known," Pegasus muttered. "And I'll bet your brother's involved, too."

"Do you feel it? The hatred of all Crystal Tokyo?" Calomel taunted. "You've earned it, Sailor Moon."

"Fine words from a Moira witch!"

A crackle of flame at her feet made Calomel jump back with a squeak. Sailor Vesta snapped her flaming whip again to make the point.

"Hmph," Calomel sniffed. "There's no point in arguing with fools. Get them!" she ordered the rest of the people. Obediently, they started to climb over the railing and jump into the arena. Vesta had to back up to avoid being surrounded.

"Enough of this," said Pegasus. He cupped his hands, and a ball of golden light swelled between them, like a miniature sun. He pointed at Calomel with both hands and shouted, "Pegasus le Rêve Aurora!"

The light surged forward in a brilliant rainbow beam. Calomel shrieked as the blast struck her, knocking her backwards behind the next row of seats. The strange gun she was holding clattered to the ground, let off a few sparks, and then fell apart. Around the stadium, the orange glow faded from the people's eyes, and they collapsed. Calomel herself didn't reappear.

"She ran away?" Pallas wondered aloud.

"That was… quick," said Moon uneasily. Almost too quick.

Pegasus touched her shoulder. "Sailor Moon. These people need help. The shock of being released from the mind control must have been too much for them."

She turned in a slow circle, taking in the grim panorama of unconscious men and women. All of them had suffered because of her. Because she had tried to make them hate her.

"You can do it!" Pallas encouraged her, mistaking her hesitation for doubt in her abilities.

Moon swallowed hard, staring at the wand in her hand. Would they want to be healed by her, after everything she'd done?

Ceres stepped closer to her and said in a low voice, "You're the only one who can do it." When the princess looked up at her, she added, "There's a reason all of us protect you. And it's not just because we like you."

Moon managed a shaky smile. "But you do like me, right?"

"I wouldn't drag myself through this mud pit for someone I didn't like."

With renewed confidence, Sailor Moon climbed to the top of the hill and lifted her Pink Moon Stick high. Tiny sparkles of light gathered around the crescent, growing more intense by the second, until it was too bright to look at.

"Moon Brilliant Revival!"

The light blossomed outward, and a glittering shower of silver and gold rained down over the fallen people. She held the wand aloft, pouring out all her power. Even when she started to feel light-headed, she pushed herself further. It was her duty to her people. No, more than that. It was an act of penance. Light engulfed the stadium as she summoned her last ounce of will to complete the healing.

The next thing she knew she was horizontal, staring up at the blue sky. It took her a few seconds to realize that she'd fainted. Ceres, Vesta and Juno were hovering over her. She wondered absently where Pallas was.

"Mrrgh," came a voice from underneath her.

Moon squeaked and rolled off her friend with numerous apologies.

"No worries," the younger senshi replied. "Pallas is your guardian! Even if it means I have to be your pillow sometimes."

Sailor Moon threw her arms around Pallas's neck and hugged her tightly. "Thanks. You guys are the best."

The warm fuzzy moment was interrupted by a cry of pain from Ceres. Ice crystals had sprouted around her feet, and were spreading up her legs. Before she could react, she was frozen up to her neck. Her pink eyes widened in terror as she struggled in vain to escape. A familiar cackle rang out from the seats behind them, and Calomel emerged again.

"Did you think you'd get rid of me that easily?" she taunted. "Now, let's make a deal. You hand over Sailor Moon, or else I give your beloved leader a lobotomy." To accentuate the remark, she conjured up a gigantic spike of blue-white ice, the sharp end pointed at Ceres's nose.

"As if we would ever!" Ceres retorted bravely, though her voice was weak from the ice crushing her chest. "Don't worry about me. Attack her!" she urged her teammates.

But Moon and Pallas were too afraid to move. Vesta and Juno only looked at each other. Calomel grinned, relishing their anguish. "I'll give you to the count of ten."

"Then we'll give you to the count of five! Juno Double Bind!"

Calomel wasn't expecting the counterattack, and Juno's electric rings pinned her arms to her sides. She squealed and kicked, but her attempts to escape only earned her a few nasty shocks.

Vesta summoned a large fireball and bounced it between her hands like a toy. "Juno, do you like your Moirae regular or extra crispy?" she asked in a dangerously sweet voice.

Calomel trembled and licked her lips, eyeing the flames. "All right. We can talk."

The fire glowed white-hot in Vesta's hands, and her red eyes burned brighter with anger. "You can let her go. And then we'll let you go. Otherwise…" She allowed a tongue of flame to flare up and singe Calomel's skirt, making her flinch.

"You think I can't put this thing through her head faster than you can toast me?" Calomel snarled.

"Either way, things don't end so well for you," Ceres pointed out, with a remarkable amount of spirit for someone who could neither move nor see any of the confrontation that was going on behind her. "You know, burning to death is a very unpleasant way to die."

The look on Calomel's face said that she did know it, but she pushed her luck one more time. "This doesn't have to be so difficult. All you have to do is step aside, and give me one clear shot at Sailor Moon."

And with her out of the way, Pyrolusite and I will have no trouble hunting down the rest of you, you cowardly dogs.

Vesta was tired of negotiating. "Ember Stri—"

"All right, all right, all right!" Calomel shrieked. The ice shard aimed at Ceres dissolved in a puff of steam. Moments later, the rest of the ice that was holding her cracked off and melted. Ceres dropped to her knees, inhaling gratefully.

Vesta gave Calomel a long, hard stare, then banished the fireball with a wave of her hand. She looked at Juno, who nodded and released the bind.

"I won't forget this," Calomel hissed. She summoned a portal and practically flung herself into it.

"Yeah. Don't," Vesta shot back as it closed behind her.

They all hurried to check on Ceres, who was getting to her feet with Pallas's help. To their surprise, she seemed dissatisfied.

"We had Calomel right where we wanted her! If only I hadn't allowed myself to be trapped like that. I wish you hadn't let her go."

"We made a deal. I keep my promises, even to an enemy," said Juno.

"Besides, she could've killed you in retaliation," Vesta added.

"Even if she had, it would be worth it to apprehend such a dangerous criminal."

"There's no way we're trading your life just to nab some two-bit troublemaker!" Vesta exclaimed. The others agreed emphatically.

Ceres sighed and shook her head. "Greater women have died for lesser things. But… thank you."

"We didn't come here to arrest Calomel, though," Sailor Moon recalled.

"That's right," said Ceres. "After all this, there's no sign of the Moirae base."

Moon frowned. "It really seemed like it should have been here."

"You'll never find it that way," Pegasus Kamen declared. The senshi turned to stare at him, put off by his discouragement but nonetheless intrigued. "You can't just walk up to the Moirae base," he explained. "It never appears in the same place twice. My current theory is that it's not properly anchored to this dimension."

"They're from another dimesion?" Ceres asked in astonishment.

He nodded. "Something like that."

Before they could ask him how he had come by this vital piece of information, he turned with a swoosh of his cape and took flight again. "Adieu!" he called over his shoulder.

A glint of gold near his throat caught Ceres's eye as he soared away from them. She squinted hard for a few seconds, then beckoned the others and pointed at his receding figure. "Do you see that around his neck?" she asked.

"See what?" said Vesta.

Pallas gaped. "No way! That looks like…"

"Sure does," Juno agreed.

Vesta frowned, then shrugged. "I still don't see anything."

"But why would he have it?" Juno wondered.

"Have what?" Sailor Moon murmured dreamily. She too was gazing after Pegasus Kamen, who was out of sight by now, but she hadn't been listening much to the other senshi's conversation.

"The Golden Crystal," said Ceres, slightly vexed at the princess's inattentiveness.

That was enough to snap Sailor Moon out of her daydream. "Impossible," she declared. "We know for a fact that the Moirae stole my father's crystal, so how could Pegasus Kamen have it?"

Awkward pause.

"Not again, you guys!" Sailor Moon huffed when she deciphered the look Ceres, Pallas, and Juno were giving her. "What will it take to convince you he's not our enemy?"

"If he has the crystal…" Pallas said slowly.

Sailor Moon tossed her head in stubborn defiance. "I can't believe it. Not after everything he's done for us."

"It could have been a trick of the light," Vesta speculated.

"Bet you wouldn't think that if you'd actually seen it," said Juno.

"Well, it was pretty far away."

Moon seized on that. "Yeah! It could just be another necklace that kind of looks like the Golden Crystal!"

Ceres shook her head. "I know what I saw."

"There's no proof," Moon insisted, and her friends could see there was no reasoning with her. There was no time to continue the discussion anyway, because people were starting to wake up. Rather than risk another public disturbance, the senshi stole away before anyone could notice them.

---

Calomel had always been better with portals than her brother or sister. It provided her some small comfort now: she could teleport straight into her quarters, without the possibility of having to speak to anyone or show her face around the Moirae fortress. She flung herself straight onto her bed and sobbed in rage and frustration and belated grief. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, but eventually she cried herself to sleep. The next thing she knew, she was awakened by a heavy knock at the door.

In the haze of half-consciousness, her first thought was that it might be Ripidolite come to scold her for her latest failure. Then she remembered, and the tears threatened to spill over once more.

Ripidolite wouldn't have knocked, anyhow.

She considered not answering the door, pretending to be asleep, perhaps. On second thought, she found that after a few hours alone with her thoughts, she was getting lonely. She preferred company in her misery, unlike…

"Pyrolusite?"

Calomel couldn't hide her surprise at the face that greeted her on the other side of the door. Even if they'd been working together lately, it wasn't like him to pay a sympathy visit. He must be here on business. Or to mock her. Before she could think about it too much, she found herself stepping aside to let him in.

He nudged the door shut behind him. She sat on the edge of the bed, shifting her weight restlessly. An uneasy silence settled between them. He cleared his throat.

"You've been crying," he observed.

She nodded. What did he expect?

He didn't quite look at her. "Don't let your emotions become a stumbling block," he said. "You have to learn to feel your sorrow without being crushed by it."

She said nothing in reply, and he suddenly regretted coming. In fact, he wasn't quite sure why he had come. It certainly wasn't to give her advice. This whole mess with Ripidolite had set his head spinning, and when he couldn't think anymore, he had instinctively sought companionship, if only to fill the void in his head with noise. How very Calomel-like of him.

Shaking his head, he tried to make them focus on something productive. "Did you learn anything from observing the senshi? What order they appeared in, which ones were together, any particular quirks that might hint at their identities?"

"No," she said dejectedly. "They all showed up at once, out of nowhere. That guy in the white tux was there too. He broke your gun. I didn't have time to make a good plan, and they cornered me, and I ran away like a coward!"

He frowned and started pacing the floor. She switched off her eye so she wouldn't have to watch him, but the sound of his boots still made her twitch. "All at once? I wonder if they were expecting us."

"I don't think so. They were mixed up in something else. The princess was there at the show, and—"

He stopped short. "You neglected to mention that detail."

"Oh. Well, she was. I guess that's probably why all the senshi were there."

"You think?" he said acidly.

She ignored him. "Anyway, from what I overheard some of her friends got in a fight with some guy in the audience or something. And the cops showed up, and I think they tried to arrest her."

"The princess, or her friend?"

"Both! The princess did something that got a bunch of people mad at her. Probably because they're all a bunch of anti-royalist morons." Calomel wrinkled her nose to show exactly what she thought of that. "Then her friend kicked one of the cops in the crotch and started a brawl, and the next thing I knew there were senshi transforming in the next row! But—oh yeah!" She clapped a hand to her cheek. "I almost forgot. When things got rough, Sailor Moon's senshi protected her instead of the princess. I think they're planning a coup."

"You almost forgot?" he repeated in disbelief. "How could you forget that? This is huge! I knew Sailor Moon was rotten, but if her whole team is plotting something like this…"

Calomel cringed. "Sorry."

He gave her a puzzled look. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because you keep yelling at me!"

"Huh? No I'm not." He paused and replayed the whole conversation in his head a couple times. Sensitive as she was, maybe he had sounded harsh. "That is—I'm not mad at you, all right? We're getting some valuable data here. Do you remember anything else?"

Calomel thought hard. "Umm. Saturn wasn't there."

"Interesting." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Another piece to the puzzle. I'll build a few more robots, and we can repeat the study. See what we can accomplish if you learn to step back from your feelings for a few minutes?"

Calomel dug her nails into the side of her mattress. "Do you know why I only let you replace one eye?"

"You were afraid I'd botch the operation."

"No. It was so I could still cry."

That tears might be considered a function worth preserving was a new idea to him, and he pondered it for a while. "One eye for seeing, one eye for crying," he said at length. "Well. You always did cry enough for both of us."

When she didn't answer, he turned to leave, but her voice stopped him at the door. "Onii-kun."

He looked back, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm leaving," she announced. She paused, waiting for him to react. When he didn't, she went on in a hurry, "I can't face Mother after this. Please, tell her I'm sorry. "

He crossed the room in two long strides and caught her by the shoulders. "Stop talking like that. There's no need to do anything reckless."

"I've thought it through." She saw that he didn't believe her, and part of her knew she was just running away, but she sought to justify herself anyway. "I won't go crazy like Ripidolite! I just need to get out of here for a little bit. You can come along if you like." Please say you'll come along.

"I am not going AWOL with you," he said impatiently. "Whatever you need to figure out, you can do it here."

She shook her head. "Not until I've got something real to show for it. I'm sick of being a failure. Mother's disappointed looks, and that goody two-shoes Hypnos always showing us up in front of Moros…"

"Hypnos and his pal lost the Golden Crystal," Pyrolusite reminded her. "I doubt any amount of intelligence they've managed to gather since then has made up for that epic failure. Besides, it's not a competition. Quit taking everything so personally."

"You're the one who's always pushing for tangible results."

"Information is a tangible result. Sort of." He waved his hand dismissively. "Have a little patience for once. You can't bail on me now."

"Can too." She wrapped herself in a portal and vanished, leaving him grasping at the air.

---

Monday brought a beautiful, sunny summer morning. The air was fresh, birds were singing in the trees, and the district was finally starting to look habitable again. In places, the crystal structures had taken on a distinctive yellow, red, green, or blue cast, hallmarks of the queen's senshi who had leant their respective powers to speed the regeneration. Seresu noticed a few spots of purple, too, and smiled. Saturn was back.

She turned to Usagi and Atena, who were walking part of the way to school with her. "It sounds like we're safe, then?"

Usagi nodded. "The shock of being released from mind control gave everyone short-term amnesia. Even if some of them remember eventually, I doubt they'll be able to put a name to your faces."

Seresu agreed. "They'll probably just write it off as an hallucination."

"Lucky us," said Atena.

They reached the intersection where their paths diverged, and Seresu bid her friends goodbye before heading up the hill toward Mugen. Before she left them, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small spray of flowers.

"Usagi-chan, this is for you. Mistletoe, which means overcoming adversity, and azalea, the Chinese symbol of womanhood. It also has another meaning: 'take care of yourself for me.'"

Smiling, Usagi pinned them to the front of her blouse, just above her brooch. "Thanks, Seresu-chan."

Seresu waved and was about to depart, when for some reason a group of four students across the street caught her eye. Usagi and Atena seemed to sense something about them too, because they both turned to stare at them. At the front of the pack was a proud-looking girl with perfectly bronzed skin and honey blond hair, marching ahead at a brisk pace and ignoring everything around her, including her companions. At her side, taking two strides to her one, was a very short girl with a thick, charcoal colored braid. She too was withdrawn from her surroundings, walking in prim silence with her hands folded over her skirt, but in her case the aloofness seemed to stem from a prey-animal sort of desire to avoid being noticed. A girl with fluffy white hair and a crooked grin was just behind them, chattering incessantly. Unlike the others, she took in the scenery of their morning walk with wide eyes, jostled her friends, and seemed determined to be in a good mood even when they rolled their eyes at her. Bringing up the rear was the tallest and prettiest of the bunch, a girl with a figure like a model, striking gray eyes, and a waterfall of vibrant aquamarine hair. But her dour expression spoiled the picture, as if nothing in the world was good enough for her; she seemed as intent on being gloomy as her gregarious companion was on being happy. There was nothing overtly remarkable about the group, and yet the three senshi found their attention instinctively drawn to them.

"Huh," Usagi murmured. "I sense a strange aura…"