A/N: I've been a bad, bad, author. Over a year since the last update! I have no excuse. Well, okay, one excuse. I had a baby. Babies, as it turns out, consume large amounts of time and energy. Forgive me?
As part of an effort to update more frequently and stop compulsively editing, I'm going to start posting shorter chapters. Hopefully that will help me get some momentum back. This story is not abandoned!

Chapter 12: It's Been Fun

Usagi bent her head over her writing desk, trying to make her cramped fingers finish one more thank-you note. Cards in every size, shape, and color rose around her like the skyscrapers of a miniature paper city. These for the scrapbook, those to display over the mantel of her fireplace, those to answer politely and then throw away. She was two hours in, and so far it seemed like she'd barely made a dent in the pile.

Yawning, she leaned back and stretched her hands. No, Neo Queen Serenity had said, you may not type them. These people flew across the galaxy to come to your party and bring you presents. The least you could do is thank them with a handwritten note.

"But I'm not the one who invited them all!" Usagi groused at her absent mother as she reached for the next card.

She paused. At first glance there was nothing special about it; though the rich violet and cream paper and gold-embossed calligraphy were very pretty, it was far from the most exquisite she'd received. On the outside was stamped, "omedetou gozaimasu" in plain but elegant kanji, and underneath a tiny symbol that made her heart flutter. A bell with wings.

When she opened the card, the fluttering turned to pounding.

Maiden,

I wish you all the joy in the world on your birthday. You've grown into a brave, wise, and inspiring woman, and I believe you'll make a wonderful queen someday. Please hold on to that beautiful dream. It will guide you in dark times. Look to the promising future ahead of you, and don't give up, no matter what happens.

Hope will be your wings, to carry you above the tide of destiny. Even if they seem like small wings, if you cast aside your fears, you can fly.

Sincerely,

Helios

Her hands shook as she set the card on the desk. Until that moment she hadn't fully realized how much she'd been longing to hear from him, how much his silence during the Moirae onslaught had shaken her. But none of that mattered now. He was alive, somewhere, and still thinking of her.

A million other questions surged forth in the wake of her euphoria. Had he been at the party? Surely she would have seen him. He wouldn't have come all the way from Elysion to not even say hello. Unless, of course, she had seen him without recognizing him…

She picked it up again, tracing the outline of the bell with her finger.

"Pegasus…" she heard herself whisper.

It was then that she noticed something thin and delicate had fallen out of the card into her lap. She picked it up gingerly. It was some sort of dried flower, with blooms like long red tassels. Smiling, she twirled it between her fingers a few times, then tucked it in her desk drawer. She would have to ask Seresu to identify it later.

Impulse seized her and she fished out Helios's bell from the place she always kept it, in the pocket next to her heart. She held it up in the sunlight and let it ring, softly. The tinkling sound filled the room in an otherworldly echo. Wind ruffled her curtains. The light intensified, surrounding the bell in a golden glow. She closed her eyes, anticipating the sound of his voice. Would it be the same after all these years?

Chibiusa squinted through the darkened glass, watching in fascination as a weird shadow slowly ate into the sun. Excited gasps rose from the crowd that filled Ichinohashi Park. Beside her, the future Neo-Queen had her nose smooshed against her own glass.

"Wow, it's starting to get really dark," she marveled.

Chibiusa glanced up at her with a hint of amusement. Sometimes she felt like more of an adult than fifteen-year-old Usagi. For a while she had been jealous, resenting the woman she viewed as a selfish, crybaby imposter of her mother. Usagi's hair was the color of summer straw, not her mother's fine-spun silver. Usagi's face had a million expressions, and most of them were not serene grace. Usagi failed tests and drooled on her pillow when she slept. Yet still she had everything Chibiusa wanted: a close-knit circle of friends, a beautiful adult body, the power of the Silver Crystal at her command, and Mamo-chan.

Usagi met her gaze and winked. "Now, with any luck," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "we'll get trapped in the park by the crowds and have to go shopping instead of taking you home."

Looking back now, her jealousy seemed strange.

Chibiusa had watched Usagi turn into Neo-Queen Serenity once, after Pharoah 90's onslaught. Maybe, in a way, it was because she'd seen Usagi's weakness—this woman she had seen weep, fear, fail and doubt herself—because of that, her strength was all the more inspiring. The queen who was waiting for Chibiusa back in Crystal Tokyo was comforting, nurturing, and so very high above her. The queen who stood up on a broken pillar in the middle of the Infinity Zone was empowering. And she had saved them all.

For all her faults, Usagi had an abundance of the raw, honest kind of love that could make the world right again after everything literally went to hell. That was why she had guardians and a prince. People who chose to love her because she was worthy.

Maybe someday, Chibiusa thought wistfully, someone will choose me.

The clear, bright notes of a bell reached her ears, faint as if from a great distance, yet somehow rising above the dim murmur of the crowd. Then a whisper, feather-soft.

"Maiden…"

Chibiusa turned. And met eyes of liquid gold.

The wind was dying down. The light began to fade. Filled with dismay, she gave the bell another shake.

"Helios?" she whispered. The light was nearly gone. A note of desperation crept into her voice. "Helios, if you're there, please answer me!"

There was no reply.

She waited a few more minutes, afraid to break the spell by making a sound. At long last she sighed in defeat. Maybe he couldn't hear her anymore. The bell might have lost its power somehow. That was troubling on its own, but there was something else bothering her, something about his letter. She couldn't put her finger on it, but looking at it made her heart contract with dread. Her head hurt, a fuzzy ache behind her eyes. Like trying to squint into the sun…

"Well, if you aren't going to answer me that way, I'll just write back instead," she decided. With renewed energy, she whipped out a fresh sheet of pink rabbit stationery and penned a quick note.

"Dear Helios," she read out loud as she wrote. "Thank you for the sweet card. How have you been? I'm doing well… hmm, what should I tell him?" Before long, she found herself rambling on about school, her latest art projects, her friends, her dreams. She reminisced about their time together in the past and asked him dozens of questions about what he'd been doing since. Her handwriting started out neat, but grew messier as the words tumbled out of her. She paused, her pen hovering at the bottom of the third page. She traced a short phrase in the air above the paper. I miss you.

"Too melodramatic," she decided. Instead, she signed with a simple, "Your friend, Tsukino 'Chibiusa' Usagi."

Of course, there was no way she could send the letter, but writing it made her feel better. She tucked it into a matching envelope, folded it up, and slipped it into her pocket along with the bell.

"Soooo, Miruki-chan," Ogawa Akiko drawled with a devilish expression as the two were working on the layout for the next edition of the Herald. "How was your date with Yang-san?"

Miruki took a deep breath and swiveled in her chair. "Okay, let's get one thing straight right now. He and I were there to cover the party. We danced together once as friends, and that was that."

"Mmhm."

"Seriously," Miruki groaned. "He's a nice guy and I wish him all the best, but no. Never in a million years. Zero chemistry."

"Fine, fine," Akiko relented with some disappointment, and returned to her work. "What do you think, this photo or that one?"

"That one. The other one's overexposed," Miruki pronounced after a moment's examination.

"I know, but we could probably fix it up in post. Kai-chan thought this one was a better angle."

"Kai-chan isn't the editor," Miruki reminded her curtly.

Akiko winced, and hastily swapped the photos. "Got it."

They worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon.

Pyrolusite steered the hovercar with one hand, the other draped lazily out the window. The robotic glove that normally encased it lay beside him on the passenger seat. The car was a cherry red 2163 Datsun Fairlady, the 200th anniversary edition with 5 core antigrav, dual hybrid-solar thrusters, and cupholders in the door. He had spent last summer restoring it, in between cybernetic enhancements and death robots. As he coasted down a long hill, the afternoon sunlight brought out the golden highlights in his deep orange hair, and the breeze ruffled the collar of his matching coat. It had been twenty minutes since the glittering spires of Crystal Tokyo had vanished from his rear-view mirror.

As far as Petalite knew, he was down in the lab rebuilding his droid army. The wind felt good.

Calomel had grown cleverer in the time they'd been working together, but her intelligence had its limits. She was scrappy at best, and utterly predictable. Last year that would have earned her nothing but contempt in his eyes. Just now, though, he was grateful for the sloppiness that made her easy to tail.

Her first mistake had been using her forged Crystal Card to buy snacks at a convenience store along a highway with no exits for fifty miles, forgetting that although the card was untraceable to the Japanese government, the Moirae mainframe kept record of every transaction. Then she had logged into her email from internet cafés at two different train stations. Given the timing and locations, it wasn't hard for him to figure out her route. Very soon he'd be in range where a simple broadband DNA scan would pick her up.

As to what he'd say to convince her to come back when he found her… well, that was a work in progress. He always had the chloroform as a backup.

Moments later, as he rounded a sharp bend past a depressingly quaint little yellow farmhouse, the scanner lit up. At first glance he saw no one. Slowing down as he passed, he fired up the infrared overlay on the car's HUD to scan for body heat. Strange. There was no sign of her. Maybe the equipment was malfunctioning. The barn was empty, and the only person in the front yard was a short, slightly plump, blue-haired girl in an apron.

He slammed on the brakes.

She must have seen him coming. Even she wasn't that oblivious to her surroundings. But she continued to disburse grain to the small flock of chickens gathered around her feet, and pretended not to notice him.

"Excuse me," he said with an edge of irony in his voice.

She looked up, feigning surprise. "Oh, hello. I'm sorry, but we don't have any eggs for sale today."

"That's not—"

"Perhaps you're looking for Hamada-san? He's gone into town, but I'd be happy to give him a message for you."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for this, Calomel."

The sound of her own name made her flinch, and she abandoned her ruse with a pout. "What're you doing here, nii-kun?"

"That's my line," he snorted, his glance taking in her plain t-shirt and jeans, muddy rubber boots, and the ragged bandanna securing her shockingly un-styled hair. Was this the same girl who wore glitter lotion to bed and tearfully begged her siblings to kill spiders?

"I'm working," she informed him. At his skeptical look, her voice rose in an indignant squeak. "What? Don't act so surprised! I always told you I could get a job if I wanted to."

He burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

He recovered his breath enough to gasp out, "You. On a farm. Feeding chickens."

She glared at him, then squatted down to speak to the birds in soothing tones. "Don't listen to him, babies. He's just jealous 'cause you're so soft and fluffy, unlike his dumb robots."

"Oh, please. You're attached to them?"

"Yes. They're my friends!"

"You're raising them to be eaten."

"No! These are egg chickens!" Calomel retorted, springing to her feet.

"Mmhm. What do you think the farmer does to them when they stop laying?"

Unable to form a counter-argument, Calomel frowned and waited for him to admit he was lying. When he met her with a level gaze, she gulped and flung the bucket away from her. The chickens pursued the trail of spilled grain in a tumble of squawking and feathers. Her head drooped as she watched them.

"Come back with me." It was a plea wrapped in a demand, issued from a crumbling rational middle ground. Was it better, after all, to fall in line like good soldiers?

Pyrolusite was a scientist, not a zealot. In the short term, that had made him better at coping with failure: what his sisters saw as humiliation, he took as additional data, merely another step in an ever-evolving process. But as of late, all the data had been pointing to a conclusion he had been loath to acknowledge. There would be attrition. Lives such as his and his sister's were expendable for the greater good. At that moment, weighing his survival instinct against the probability of making any sort of difference, he was surprised to discover his own inner ideologue. He would die for Moros, not out of childlike faith like Calomel or a staunch, hierarchical sense of duty like Petalite, but because he had run the numbers and determined that it was the right course of action. Change required a large group of people in a coordinated effort. A large group of people needed leadership. To maximize the odds of the group's survival, the will of the individual must be made subject to their chosen leader, even to the point of self-destruction.

And yet, when it was just the two of them standing out here under a wide blue sky, that notion seemed grossly illogical.

"You should go. You'll be in trouble," Calomel told him.

"Little late for that," he said with a shrug. "Take your own advice. You can't hide out here forever."

A long sigh hissed out of her. "I know. I'm planning my last stand against the sailor senshi, to avenge Ripidolite. One way or another… next time we meet, it's over."

His impulse was to dismiss her, until he saw her face. She looked so much older, in a way that had nothing to do with lack of glitter lotion. For the first time, he believed she might see her insane plan through to the end.

Just like their sister had.

"I won't let you do this alone," he blurted out.

"What? No!" she tried to argue. "You've been on Queen Moros's good side ever since you built Carnelian. You can't just throw that away!"

"That's the point. If you make a heroic last stand and defeat the senshi single-handedly, my contributions will be completely overshadowed."

The shaky smile that passed between them said they knew what the odds were of that happening.

"Thank you," Calomel whispered at length.

He nodded. "We'll work together this time."

"Let me guess," she said with a knowing grimace. "You already—"

"Have a plan," he finished over top of her, taking her mockery in stride.

"What is it this time?"

"I've always wanted to build a nuclear-powered robot, but I've never been able to get the coolant systems right. That's where you and your magic come in. I was thinking a flamethrower in one arm and an ice cannon in the other, but if it's too much you can just focus on keeping the core temperature under control."

He started rattling off technical specs, but she was no longer listening. "Nuclear weapons…" she breathed with an involuntary shudder. Since the early 24th century, when Neo-Queen Serenity had finally been able to order the disarmament of the LIC's last atomic warheads, even the bitterest of enemies had respected the agreement to keep the world free of such horrors. Even if Pyrolusite only planned on using the reactor to generate power, there was always the chance something could go wrong. A meltdown in the streets of Tokyo. Did they have the right to risk so many innocent lives?

But she had the feeling there was no turning back now. After a long pause, she looked up at him with her one artificial eye. "I'll try."

The queen's press conference should be about over by now. Usagi took it as a good sign that rioters had not yet shaken the palace from its foundations. There would be a smattering of panic, of course, followed by a few rounds of political punditry and more questions than could be answered in one sitting. A few ardent doomsayers would take things to the extreme. Dissenters would try to capitalize on any opportunity to make the royal family look bad—and since they were apt to target who they saw as its most vulnerable member, Serenity and Endymion had decided that Usagi would not appear with them in public just yet. They had a delicate line to walk now that she had come of age: they would not feed her to the wolves, but too much sheltering would make the future monarch seem weak. She would have to comment on the issue sooner or later. Usagi was already writing her first speech in her head.

Still, all in all, people seemed to be taking the news of the Moirae threat fairly well. Most of them were pulling together, rallying around queen and country. Just as importantly, they were preparing to defend themselves. All the district domes were tightly shuttered now, and the overhead force-field hummed at full power day and night. SDF militia drilled in the streets at dawn, then showered and donned suits to head into the office. Life went on, though the sensation of awful, anxious waiting clung to the city like a fog. To Usagi things felt just like they had before Ripidolite's attack. But this time she wasn't alone, and that made all the difference.

For now, in the calm before the storm, she managed to steal a few moments for herself. Midmorning sunlight shone through the curtained windows of the little studio behind the royal gallery, casting a soft glow on the blank white rectangle before her. The intergalactic radio was tuned to her favorite classical station, and she tried to focus her mind on happier days. She dipped her brush into a cup of clean water, dampened the canvas, and began with a soft wash of yellow. These days, digital brush and canvas sets had such high resolution and sophisticated programming that they could produce results identical to the real thing—with the added bonus of an undo button—but for some reason she still preferred good old-fashioned cloth. Neptune had suggested it at first, saying that to truly understand the medium she must begin at its roots. She found she liked the sound and feel of it under her fingers, and the physical act of switching brushes rather than hitting a button to change modes somehow kept her more mindful of her work. Beyond that, she had come to appreciate having to work with her mistakes, and found that sometimes what seemed an accident turned out to be more interesting than what she originally had planned.

Other times, of course, a mistake was just that. But those were life, too. She was learning to be less afraid of making them. Maybe that was the real lesson Neptune meant to teach her all along.

Gradually she pulled in coral and amber tones, darkening to mauve as she moved away from the horizon. As the canvas dried, she switched to a fan brush and added a few purple clouds to the painting, which was developing into a glorious Crystal Tokyo sunset… no, a sunrise, she decided.

She thought back to the most beautiful and bittersweet sunrise she could remember: the first one she'd seen after returning home from the past for the last time, the day her mother informed her that her training as Chibi Moon was complete. That it was time to leave behind the world where she'd met Hotaru and Helios, Ikkuko-mama, Kenji-papa, and Shingo, Momoko, Kyuusuke, and all the friends who had become more dear to her than she'd realized. That she would never see Tsukino Usagi of the 20th century again. She cried for a long time when that sunk in, but Pluto explained that her younger self was about to be born, and it would be best for all involved if she left that portion of history unaltered. That evening, her old friend and mentor held her shaking hands as she locked the Time Gate and returned the little key she'd stolen so long ago. After a long, restless night, she opened her eyes to a glorious display of color. She still remembered the feeling, that morning as she stepped out onto the terrace to watch the rising sun, of the strong, relentless flow of time. It was the relief of a battered mariner unfurling the sails after a storm, of a river returning at last to the sea. No more going back, starting over, trying to manipulate fate and dreading ripple effects. From that moment on she would tread the path before her, if not without regrets, then willing to accept them. Then a small sound prompted her to turn around, and her mother was standing there behind her with her hair all full of golden light, her eyes still so warm and blue, and all the years between dropped away.

"Nee, Small Lady. You can't always live in the past."

It was one of those succinct phrases Neo-Queen Serenity had a habit of uttering, which tended to follow a person.

Usagi picked up a fine brush and added a few rays of gold and silver breaking through the clouds. The 20th century was a part of her, but she belonged here. There she was Chibi Moon, her mission and identity largely defined by her mother's past self. Here she was Sailor Moon, and her life and future were her own.

As she reminisced, the streets of Tokyo under her brush blurred into something more like water. She ran with it, filling the other half of the scene with a glassy lake surrounded by tall, dark pines. At the center, she blocked in the form of a glistening white shrine. Some of the details were blurry in her memory, but the feel of it was right.

Two hours slipped by quickly before she was interrupted by the jingling of a tiny bell, followed by a gray whiskered nose poking through the doorway.

"Usagi-sama!" Diana called. "Shall we have lunch together?"

Usagi cast one last longing glance at her work, then turned to smile at her feline companion. It had been a long time since they spent any quality time together. Too long. "Sure, just let me get cleaned up and we can go out somewhere. What are you in the mood for?"

Diana hopped into the window seat as Usagi gathered up the paints and rinsed her brushes. "Whatever you like. I would recommend somewhere quiet and out of the way, though."

"Yeah. Wouldn't want to run into any reporters like Seresu-chan the other day," Usagi agreed. Her face brightened. "I know just the place!"

Pyrolusite glanced around the dining room of the Glass Hour as they made their way to the far end of the bar. It was strange how the place always seemed half-deserted. No one seemed to be looking their way, but he hunched his shoulders and pulled his hat further down over his eyebrows, just in case.

"You're rustling again. Are you trying to look conspicuous?" Calomel snorted.

"Hmph," he grunted. "You're the one who keeps playing with your sunglasses." They had decided on the way here that her artificial eye was too recognizable a feature. She had been forced to switch it off and hide it behind a pair of oversized Ray-Bans.

He found two seats a good distance away from anyone else, pulled Calomel's chair out for her, and made a slight gesture to the bartender, who smiled and sauntered over.

"Hello there, Nocturne."

"Lavere-san," she said with a nod, addressing him by his alias. "I see you've brought a friend. What's your pleasure?"

"I'll have my usual, and for the lady… I bet you'd like something a little sweet, right?" His suave tone sounded unnatural to his sister's ears. She wondered how long he'd practiced each phrase.

"I'll have what he's having," Calomel decided.

Nocturne arched an eyebrow. "A Salamander Screwball? You sure about that, honey? It's pretty strong."

Calomel wavered.

"If you don't like it, I'll drink it and get you something else," Pyrolusite offered.

Nocturne shrugged and started pouring.

"When did you become a gentleman?" Calomel asked with acid sweetness while their hostess was digging under the bar for something. "If you'd treated your robot girlfriend half this nice I bet she wouldn't have left you."

His eye twitched. "What? She didn't leave me! Ceres cut her into…" He caught himself too late.

"Aha! I knew it. You two were involved."

"I never said that."

"Funny, you were awfully upset when I suggested you were the dumpee."

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"Or maybe she did dump you before she got broken."

"For the last time, she was not a love doll!" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Whatever."

Nocturne came back long enough to set the glasses in front of them and went to poke her head in the kitchen. Pyrolusite swallowed half of his in a single gulp. Calomel took a tiny sip and started coughing. He laughed at her.

"She did try to warn you."

"Ugh! What is this? Paint thinner?"

"Here." He reached for the glass, but she jerked it away. "You like it?" he asked incredulously.

"Nope. It's nasty. But it's mine and I'll finish it."

A few minutes passed with only the sound of low chatter and ice clinking in glasses. Calomel found sordid enjoyment in eavesdropping on an arguing couple. Pyrolusite inspected the surface of the bar. At last he broke the silence by clearing his throat and pulling out a neatly folded diagram.

"It's a dual cockpit, but I'll have control over the steering," he explained as he spread it out in front of them. When she began to object, he went on quickly, "Keeping the engine cool is the most important job. You can't afford any distractions. And you're a lousy driver."

She grumbled under her breath, but allowed him to explain the weapon controls without interruption.

"It's fully submersible to at least eight hundred meters, so I'm thinking we come in from the bay, strike the city by surprise. If we knock down a few buildings, they'll have to come out and deal with us. We'll pick terrain that favors us and use the chaos to our advantage."

"No," said Calomel, so firmly that he shut his mouth and stared at her. "No more hurting innocent bystanders just to get their attention. It's not fair and it never works. We go straight to the palace, and we call Sailor Moon out."

Pyrolusite frowned. "She's a traitorous coward. Why should we believe she'd meet us face-to-face in an honorable fight?"

Calomel gave him a look.

"What? Just because I don't have any honor doesn't mean I don't know what it is."

"She'll come," Calomel insisted. "The woman is aiming to be queen. Give her a stage and she'll dance. She's a proud little bitch."

They shared a mirthless smile. Neither noticed the white-haired man behind them when he stood up and quietly slipped out of the restaurant.

Aether kept his head down and tried to avoid looking at anyone. He had overheard enough of Pyrolusite and Calomel's conversation to know he needed to stop them. But how? This was more than he and Hypnos could handle alone, and as of late he was beginning to doubt Petalite's ability to control them. He needed a backup plan. If he risked an audience with Moros it was likely to turn into an interrogation about why he was spying on his fellow soldiers rather than looking for the Golden Crystal. There was one other option, but he didn't like it. They had been relying on that often enough lately. He would rather not put his friends in danger if he could help it.

Up the road a short way, Usagi and Diana were strolling along at a leisurely pace. Diana had assumed her human form for their outing, after seeing a cute skirt of Usagi's that she wanted to borrow. The young Mauan often seemed to prefer being a human lately, although Luna had advised her not to waste her energy by transforming frivolously. It was a rare sign of rebellion from the otherwise passive Diana, but Usagi didn't question it. Her guardian would talk to her about it if she wanted to.

Besides, she had a few worries of her own to discuss right now. Namely, her upcoming speech. She had just finished reading her latest draft aloud while they were walking.

"Well, what did you think?" she asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

Diana fidgeted. "It's… not bad."

"C'mon. Tell me the truth."

"If I were to be perfectly frank, it did sound a tad contrived."

"Thought so. Ugh." In a moment of frustration, Usagi compacted the paper into a golf-ball-sized wad and flung it away from her.

Right into Aether's face.

"Usagi-sama!" Diana exclaimed, but her charge barely heard her. She was too busy watching her balled up rubbish bounce off the nose of the white-haired stranger. Great. He would have to be young and handsome too, wouldn't he?

Slowly, he stooped to pick up the paper. She wanted to vanish as he approached her with measured strides. She looked… down at him. Up close, he was shorter than she'd expected, yet no less striking for it. Dark glasses and a hat obscured most of his face, but there was something about him that caught her eye anyway. It was less his physical appearance than his manner, a calm gentleness that hinted at hidden depths, and what was she doing staring so intently at a complete stranger?

He held out the wad with a gesture far too elegant, and she found herself cupping her hands to receive it as if it were some precious pearl. "A princess shouldn't litter," he remarked as he tried to brush past her.

"Well, you shouldn't boss a princess around!" cried a flustered Usagi, blocking his path. She would teach him to lecture his future queen!

In an instant his debonair mien evaporated. A blush darkened his face, and he bowed several times. "Perhaps you're right. I'm sorry." Now he was trying to back away from her, but she pursued him. "It's just that I care very much about maintaining the streets of Crystal Tokyo. As I'm sure you do. Such a beautiful… city."

He tripped over his feet and stumbled backwards, grabbing onto a hoverbike rack to steady himself. All of a sudden, she got the sense that he was the one staring at her. She took another step toward him, enjoying the hitch in his breath. Still he couldn't tear his eyes away. Just one good look at his face was all she wanted. If only she could see under those sunglasses!

She brushed a long pink ponytail off her shoulder and gave him a slow smile. "It is a beautiful city, isn't it?"

"Like no other," he said in a low voice.

Usagi felt a strange fluttering in her stomach.

Moments later Diana caught up to them. She paused a few steps behind, watching the exchange with knitted brows. The princess had been known to get in certain moods where her pride got the better of her, but even so, her reaction to this man's stray remark seemed over the top. And there was something in the look that was passing between them…

"All right. I forgive you," Usagi said airily, breaking the long silence.

"But he was kind of right," Diana said under her breath.

The man bowed again. "You're most gracious. G-goodbye!" he stammered, practically fleeing from her.

"What a strange man," Diana remarked, glancing from him to Usagi, who was staring after him as if mesmerized. Very strange.

Usagi watched him until he rounded a bend and disappeared. Shrugging off her puzzlement, she found a recycle bin along the street.

"Could you not have simply used a tablet?" asked Diana.

"I guess. I just kind of like pen and paper."

"If you'll pardon my saying so, Princess, you picked up some awfully strange habits in the 20th century."

They had stopped in front of a café. Diana glanced up at the sign. "Oh! It's that Glass Hour place you've been telling me about."

"Uh-huh. It's really good." Usagi pulled up the hood of her jacket and opened the door. "Let's go, I'm starving."

They found a booth along the far wall, partly obscured by a potted banana tree. The only people nearby were a man in a hat and a blue-haired woman with oversized sunglasses seated at the bar, and they were too engrossed in their own gossip to notice anyone. Diana ushered the princess into the inside seat and slid in beside her, shielding her from view.

Safely behind her menu, Usagi allowed herself to let out an unmeasured breath and sag into the plastic cushions.

Some days, she missed the laid-back familiarity of the Crown Arcade so much.
By chance, a snatch of conversation from the pair at the bar caught their attention. "They say Sailor Moon was a noble figure once," the woman said to her companion. "I wonder how she fell so far."

Diana's belief in the general goodness of humanity made any sort of unjust condemnation abhorrent, doubly so when it was aimed at her best friend. It took all her self control not to scowl at the strangers. Usagi, on the other hand, was frozen and pale, her gaze fixed on the opposite wall.

"The one wearing that name now, she can't be the same person," the man scoffed.

"Supposedly she was immortal…"

"In the figurative sense. But she sacrificed herself eons ago. The one calling herself Sailor Moon now is nothing more than an imposter."

"I wonder."

"There's no way a selfish coward like her ever saved the galaxy."

Diana sprang up, ready to march over to their table and tell them off, but was halted by Usagi's hand on her arm. The princess gave a small shake of her head. Diana considered, huffed her irritation, and finally sat down. Usagi was right, of course, and in that moment she was (reluctantly) proud of her. Her sailor soldier training had taught her how to fight her battles, now politics was teaching her how to pick them.

"She's weak. Incompetent as a leader, always hiding behind her guardians," the man went on. "I know her kind. She just wants the glory. For all her pretty speeches about justice, she's not willing to lay it all on the line when it counts. I heard that when Ripidolite attacked, she hid in the palace until it was almost over."

"Maybe she became a sailor soldier for the free manicures," the woman in glasses laughed, less careful about keeping her voice down as her hatred gained momentum.

"Ha! And you know that time at the bike show, the very people she claims to defending turned on her."

"We can go," Diana whispered.

Usagi, pretending to read through the lunch specials for the fifth time, shook her head firmly. "We are two girls out for a nice, relaxing afternoon, and we are going to enjoy ourselves."

"You're right after all," said the woman, downing the last of her drink. "If she's the Sailor Moon of legend, then the legends are a lie."

"I'll bet her own team hates her," the man spat.

"They're all a bunch of wanna-bes."

"That's the thing about cowards. They flock together until things get tough."

"Maybe they'll turn on her at the end. And I'll laugh."

"Aren't you glad this restaurant survived?" Diana exclaimed, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I heard it was almost destroyed when the Moirae attacked. It's a good thing Sailor Moon was here to save us."

The pair at the bar flinched, and the man slowly turned his head. Diana sipped her water and refused to look at him. Usagi caught his eye for just a moment. If he recognized her, he didn't show it. The only thing she saw on his face was contemptuous pity, the kind of look a person gives to fools who have chosen ignorance.

In another moment he noticed that some of the people at the other end of the dining room had started to give him dirty looks of their own. He nudged his companion, said something under his breath, and flagged down the bartender to pay their tab. The two walked out of the restaurant without another word.

"Are you okay?" Diana asked Usagi.

"I'm fine. You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." Diana snapped her menu as if to shake off the dust of the previous conversation. "Now. Want to split a tuna lunchbox?"

Usagi wondered if her guardian realized how much she admired her just then. If Diana can rise above it, so can I. No matter what they say. I won't let them hurt me. I'll prove them wrong!

Monday morning, Usagi was surprised to find a new desk just in front of Chino. She didn't think much of it, and after they had all bowed to Harukaze-sensei, commenced her usual routine of doodling in her notebook while half-listening to the roll. After attendance, as she'd suspected, their teacher paused to make an announcement.

"Class, today we have a new student."

The sound of light footsteps followed, someone entering the room. Usagi didn't look up from her drawing.

"I wonder if she's got a dark and mysterious past," Chino whispered.

Usagi rolled her eyes as she put some cross-hatching on a miniature portrait of Beth. (Her friends were her favorite subject.) "Why would she?"

"Well, transferring in during the middle of the year…"

"Please. This isn't a manga."

"Hello, everyone. My name is Takahashi Mokushi," said the new student, and Usagi's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. She knew she had heard that name before, and at the sight of the newcomer's short, fluffy white hair and purple eyes she placed it immediately. It was the girl she'd mistaken for Pegasus Kamen at her birthday party.

"I'm returning to Japan after many years overseas. Yoroshiku onegai shimasu," Mokushi continued. She bowed and found her seat. Was it Usagi's imagination, or had the girl's eyes sought her out for just a second?

Now I'm being as ridiculous as Chino, Usagi chided herself. People transferred for all kinds of reasons. It didn't mean she was a stalker with a dark past. Besides, it was perfectly normal to stare when the princess of the entire planet happened to be in your homeroom.

Class went on without incident until Usagi was called up to the board to solve a statistics problem. To her chagrin, it was one she hadn't found time to go over last week. (Yet another reason her mother should have let her type the thank-you notes, she thought.) After several torturous minutes of scribbling and erasing, she had to admit she was stuck. Harukaze-sensei gave her one last chance to check their textbook, but from the way Usagi was squinting at the tablet screen, she could tell it was hopeless. With a sigh, she put the question to the rest of the class.

Ibuki Aya's hand shot up immediately, and she shot Usagi a haughty look as she gave her answer. "It's twenty-eight and a half percent, of course. You see—"

"Incorrect."

"What?" Aya exclaimed. "No, it has to be!"

Harukaze-sensei crossed her arms. "I wrote the textbook, Ibuki-san. I believe I know the answers."

Aya colored and sat down hastily. Usagi bit her lip to avoid smiling.

In a way, it was a small comfort when none of her other classmates had the answer either, but that meant she was still stranded at the board. Hotaru would have known, if she were here. Back to the book. She thought hard, wrote down her answer, and stepped back. But Harukaze-sensei shook her head. Usagi could hear Aya snickering at her, and wanted to cry. Or punch something.

Chino came to her rescue. "Tsukino-sama, it looks like you made a mistake calculating the beta value," he realized.

Usagi double-checked her work. "Ah!"

The hint was enough to start her off in the right direction. At last she puzzled out the solution and was allowed to return to her seat. On the way back, she caught Mokushi staring at her again. It would have been less obvious if she hadn't immediately turned to look out the window when Usagi's eyes met hers.

Weird. Maybe it's because I'm pretty, thought Usagi.

It happened again during gym class. And during music. When she and Atena met up for lunch, Usagi half-expected Mokushi to join them, but the girl quickly surrounded herself with a group of friends on one corner of the roof and chatted away about nothing. Still, when Usagi glanced up from the history homework she was trying to finish at the last minute, those purple eyes were locked onto her. It was starting to creep her out.

"You okay, Usagi-chan?" Atena asked, poking her lightly.

"Mmhm." Usagi nodded ever so slightly in Mokushi's direction.

Atena squinted at her for a few seconds before she remembered. "Oh, it's drunken tuxedo girl! What's she doing here?"

Usagi giggled at the nickname. "Apparently she's in my class now."

"Huh. What are the odds?"

"Please don't ask me that," groaned Usagi, who never wanted to think about probability again for the rest of her life.

Atena dug for the last piece of takuan in her lunchbox. "Think she's trouble? Hotaru-chan says she and her friends act like they're hiding something."

Usagi shook her head slowly. "I'm not getting a bad feeling around her or anything."

"You didn't get a bad feeling around Kanzaki Akako, either."

"Hey, she tricked you too!" Usagi retorted.

"Yeah," said Atena with a look of shame. "And as your bodyguard, I want to make sure it doesn't happen again. Atena will be vigilant."

Usagi felt a sudden pang. Atena's warm-hearted optimism was her most endearing quality, and now her duty as a sailor senshi was stealing that away from her. For years she had watched the same thing happening to her mothers' guardians. It wasn't that their personalities were erased so much as smoothed, refined into idealized totem versions of their former selves. Jupiter said it was just a part of getting older. But Jupiter hadn't traveled through time and witnessed the contrast firsthand.

Usagi tried to picture Pallas, a little taller and more muscular after years of battle, all the fidgeting trained out of her, her guileless laughter replaced by a measured diplomatic smile. And shuddered.

"We'll be careful," she assured her friend. On a whim, she added, "Hey, want to go to the arcade this afternoon?"

Atena perked up. "All right! Let's invite Tomoe-chan too! I want to try the Sync Mode on Ultramix LX again!" She noticed Usagi's grimace and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, don't worry. I know you guys are beginners, so we can turn it down to 'Difficult.'"

"You're as intense as Mercury sometimes," Usagi whined good-naturedly.

"Look at it this way. It burns a lot of calories."

"I guess. Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

Atena stuck out her tongue at Usagi and waited for her to pounce so they could begin their usual ritual of chasing each other around the rooftop. But instead, Usagi just poked her lightly in the ribs.

"Max difficulty it is. I feel up to a challenge."

Atena eyed her with curiosity as she gathered her lunchbox, flounced her hair, smoothed her skirt, and headed downstairs with an indomitable bounce in her step.