Disclaimer: "Detective Conan" belongs to Gosho Aoyama, and "Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon" belongs to Naoko Takeuchi.
This is an alternative story to my other fanfic "Encounter in Venice" and one of the possibilities of what could have happened if Ai had taken the antidote before Shinichi brought down the Organization.
Thanks a lot to my friends and betas Rae (Astarael00) and SN1987a and the Aicoholics on LiveJournal, without whom I would never have started this fic.
FS
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Ghost at Twilight
(edited version)
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Once upon a time…
Once upon a time Zeus (or Jupiter, as the great Boss in heaven was called by the Romans) split the disobedient, self-assured creatures with two faces, four arms, and four legs into two parts, which were then separated and condemned to spend their lives in search of each other. The Boss might not have been so cruel if the complete human being had not been so perilously strong and independent. Who would have been able to stop the humans if they had decided to conquer both the underworld and heaven?
One could argue that in their completeness, most humans were peaceful and kind. But Zeus is known to be a narcissistic, paranoid, debauched jerk—the sort of celebrity that is too greedy for praises and fan presents from his fearful supporters to grant the humans their well-deserved freedom.
To be fair, managing the masses of incomplete humans is already difficult enough. Controlling the complete humans with their terrific double brains might have been impossible. Jupiter's lightning bolts could have been absorbed and redirected. Apollon's (or Apollo's) sunlight would have given the humans solar energy. Ares (or Mars) would have lost against so many formidable opponents despite his brute strength and violence. Amor or Cupid, with his abysmal shooting skills, would have missed most of the targets. Aphrodite's (or Venus') charm would have been ineffective against the humans, who—in their complete form—would have been immune against her irresistible magic girdle…
The only god to escape from Mount Olympus unscathed would have been Hermes (or Mercury), the quick-witted, fast-footed messenger in winged sandals, who would have been too smart to engage in a losing fight. Most probably, he would have soberly assessed the chances of winning and chosen to scram and hide until Minerva (or Athena) wisely hoisted the white flag announcing that the battle was over.
And yet it's hard for the humans to resent the great Boss when the search for love can be so wonderfully gratifying in its own right—even with the knowledge that the efforts to find the missing puzzle piece, which completes you, will prove futile. Notwithstanding the disappointment and anguish when once again the seemingly perfect partner reveals all the fissures and blemishes which clash violently with yours, or the one you love leaves you for someone else, who can satisfy their needs more, or when Amor's arrow misses again and love stays unrequited—humans will always be searching for love or a substitution of it, driven by the memory of completeness and the need to fill the void which remained after their other half had been torn away.
"Who are you thinking of?" your husband sans papers asks you between two kisses, languidly drawling the word "who" in mock jealousy.
"Greek gods!" Since you haven't figured out how to simultaneously speak and kiss, you have to keep your answers short and pithy.
"Why Greek gods?" He draws a dangerous, meandering trail of kisses down your neck while locking you in an embrace which makes Rodin's The Kiss look harmless by comparison, but you can't bring yourself to stop him.
"Because Tenoh-san once told me that she liked them. They're the type of gods you could play poker with."
His breath tickles you when he laughs, and if you weren't already in love with him, you would fall in love with him now. In a world where most people chase after the elusive phantom of happiness, which the spiritually inclined call nirvana or heaven or paradise, people like Seiya are almost as rare as the blue rose, which can only be produced with a genetic modification or a dye.
"So we're gambling with the gods right now?" The warm light of the lamps on both sides of the bathroom mirror and the green tiles are reflected in his eyes, tinting them a liquid curaçao blue when he gives you an amused smile.
"No, only I am gambling." You rake your fingers through his hair with undisguised delight. "And you are the card in my hand!"
"Well, since you might need me to win against those pesky gods, don't let go of what you're holding!"
Time seems to slow down again to flow at a speed at which the trickle of sand in an hourglass would resemble the gliding motion of autumn leaves in the wind, and you can tell even without glancing into the mirror that you two are intoxicatingly, vertiginously beautiful together. Closing your eyes as waves of bliss sweep over you with every new wandering kiss, you absently note that the Miyano Shiho of yesterday would have been scandalized—especially since his troublesome brothers are presently stalking in and out of his apartment, bringing him even more fan presents and roses to free space in their own apartment, as they've informed you two through the closed bathroom door. But yesterday's Miyano Shiho didn't have much fun in life whereas this Miyano Shiho could beat both Zeus and Hades at their own game and have an excessively good time.
It's fascinating how love has completely deactivated the rational part of your brain, comments a cool voice in your head, which bears an uncanny resemblance to Yaten Kou's. You're irrationally, foolishly besotted with a stranger you've just met, letting yourself fall into the grip of an unhealthy obsession you can't control. Depicting your story as an Ancient Greek epic, you naively believe that you can overcome any obstacle as long as he stays by your side. But in Ancient Greek tragedies, humans never win against fate. From the top of the world the paths will only lead downwards. Greek gods are known to curse arrogant humans. And you've been warned that you shouldn't gamble!
Once in a blue moon—even though the chance of this happening is smaller than winning the Spanish Christmas Lotto and the gods do their best to prevent the two halves of the complete human being from appearing at the same time and place—the two parts belonging to the same whole will accidentally meet. What happens afterwards is something no oracle can accurately predict, but it's extremely unlikely that the gods will let such an insolent couple stay together when they endanger the balance of the universe and threaten to take the god's power away.
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