Author's notes:

Okay, next chapter! Thank you all so much for your kind words and support for my last chapter, I was blown away by some of the lovely comments and really well thought out predictions and the like! Like always, make sure to check out the important notes from the Prologue if you haven't already. Enjoy!

Music rec – I Don't Believe You by Pink

Chapter Seventeen

She ran.

She ran harder and faster than she had ever done in her life. Harder than the day she been desperately racing to her family, and then on to her princess. Faster than she even knew her legs could take her.

She wasn't running from Odango—of course she wasn't. She wasn't even running from the truth, not entirely. She was running from the emotion that welled within her—and surely this was every fractured feeling she'd buried, fuelling each thumping step.

She tore across the terrain, away from the metropolis of Tokyo until she weaved amongst dusk-lit trees and until fresher air hit her starving, burning lungs. She ran until her feet ached and blistered and her body begged for mercy. Until she wasn't afraid of what would happen if she just happened to let go.

Just let go, Seiya.

She ran because she was angry. She ran because she was hurt. Because she wanted for everything to be different, not this ugly, twisted truth.

She ran because she knew.

She always knew. From the moment she had laid eyes on the pink-haired girl, she knew there was a part of Odango inside her. She was foolish for not seeing what had been so clear, right before her eyes.

So foolish.

She was stupid for never seeing past the why—why Usagi never said you're not enough, or I haven't fallen for you, too. The young woman had suffered so much more in silence than she could ever have imagined, all for a future that was forced upon her.

This is wrong.

She felt livid, and so, so sad. With every bound of her exhausted body, a painful jolt of her power whipped through her veins like a scalding flame, desperate to escape. She had to stop—had to try to control it—but she didn't want to. She wanted to destroy something, she wanted to feel, she wanted—

Her, she could feel herself crumbling, I just wanted her.

Her limbs buckled beneath her and she crashed to the dirt, her heartbeat thick in her throat. She fell heavily onto her wrists, gasping for air, and when she opened her eyes she saw the alien sapphire glow beneath her skin; the laser bolts whirring about her hands, like her power were consuming her from the inside out.

I wish I had met you sooner, Odango.

Even then, it would have been too late.

The indigo silhouette of daylight began to fade her treed surroundings to darkness, and she could feel the earth shudder beneath her knees as her energy grew madder. She grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes closed—she had to feel this pain. She simply had to.

Could I have saved her—what more could I have done?

"What are you doing here?"

She snapped her gaze up to the source of the sound, to find Haruka mere metres away, staring at her suspiciously. The Uranian senshi had her change rod gripped tightly in her hand, and looked on as though she were a threat. It was then that she realised to where she had run; the secluded tree line ended close by, revealing the shadow of the outer warriors' home.

"Seiya, what are you doing here? Is something wrong—?"

What more could they have done?

Setsuna's voice had her on her feet in an instant, and she approached with unmatched speed. "Yeah, something is wrong," she growled, barely registering as Haruka stepped between them and Setsuna flinched away. "How could you do this to her?"

Her garnet eyes hardened—she knew. "I had no choice."

Seiya was wild. "That's bullshit! She was just a kid! You have taken everything from her!" She rounded on Haruka, who was oddly still in the inches between them. "How could you let this happen? How?"

Haruka was silent as she roved her gaze over Seiya's eyes, her skin, her hands. Perhaps she looked as wild as she felt. "It happened well before we were awakened," she said stiffly.

"That doesn't make it right!" She cried. "You stood by and did nothing—you expected her to just do exactly as she was told, so she could save all of your asses and secure your future—"

"You know nothing—"

Seiya could feel their surroundings buzzing, her vision sharpening. It wouldn't take much. "I know enough," she hissed, "I know that you are selfish and cowardly and would let a young girl's life be sacrificed—"

"How dare you—"

A swish of aquamarine hair stepped in alongside them, but it didn't matter to Seiya—she wasn't outnumbered, no way. "Anything worth living for requires sacrifice, Seiya," Michiru said. "Usagi made a choice, too."

"She didn't have a choice!" She yelled, her voice laced with the dual tone that was so rarely produced by her vocal chords. Birds flew from their resting place above them and the ground rumbled underfoot. The three outer Sol senshi stared her down tensely, and once again she wondered how lethal, how carnal, she had become before their eyes. "Isn't it your job to protect her?"

Haruka held up her change rod, ready to transform, but Setsuna spoke quickly. "Don't," she said. She looked back to Seiya. "It is, and we have done everything we can to do that."

More lies. "You haven't done enough," she replied coldly. "You should have had her best interests, you should have—"

"Don't try to pretend this is all about her, when it's as much about you," Haruka snarled, stepping in toward her. Michiru and Setsuna made to interfere, but she pushed them away.

Seiya let her cobalt laser ignite in the palm of her hand like a warning. "Oh, of course," she laughed angrily, "no wonder you fought so hard to keep me away from her—you knew the stakes were high!"

Haruka glowered at her."She never would have chosen you."

Seiya drew closer—she had no fear, no apprehension. Only the hot flame in her core and under her skin that felt the need to annihilate something. "Maybe not," she said acidly, "but I never would have let her be unhappy—and you're lying to yourselves if you think she's happy, underneath all of that pressure."

She expected a battle—she wanted it—but it did not come. Haruka stared back at her, cold and unmoving. "You know what, Kou?" She said lowly, jaw set. "I know she's not happy. I can see it in the way she moves, the way she speaks, the way she fights. In spite of what you think, I cannot stand to see her so lost."

It was as though she had walked to the edge of a cliff and set one foot off—it would take so little to jump, to flatten her, but that other foot had her on solid ground still. "Then why do you let it happen?"

"What other option do we have?" Haruka snapped. "Tell her to go about doing whatever the hell she wants and lose her future daughter in the process? Risk the lives of everyone on the fucking planet?"

The words stung, because she knew they were true. She steeled herself—just looking over the precipice. Control it.

"You have to understand, Seiya," Michiru said tentatively, "Usagi was happy, once. Daunted, but happy nonetheless."

She shook her head, but realised she was already shaking all over. "But it's been a long time since then, hasn't it?" She said. "I've seen her unhappy—I picked up the pieces, watched her fall apart, and now you've seen her pain, and you ignored it—"

"If we mislead her, it will be the end of our planet—of human life in this solar system," Haruka cut in aggressively. "What part of that don't you understand?"

This my duty, Usagi choked in her mind, and it made her ache. This is who I am...

"This future," Seiya said finally, looking at Setsuna, "how do you know it's even true?"

Setsuna seemed disconnected and distant, as though her mind were miles away. "We don't," she replied. "I open the doors to different times and different spaces, but I don't create them."

Seiya narrowed her eyes at her—what was it she could see, hiding behind the stoicism and seclusion? "You can't tell me you didn't walk right on through, to have a glimpse of what was to come? That you weren't tempted?"

"I was, and I did," Setsuna admitted, garnet eyes sad, "against orders, and against my better judgement."

"So you've seen it, then?" Seiya pressed, pressure welling inside her. "You do know it's true?"

"When I was last in Crystal Tokyo, nothing had changed," Setsuna said, and then hesitated to add: "But we can't be sure of anything now."

"We can," Haruka said tersely. "Small Lady is still alive. She is still Mamoru's blood."

Mamo, she could hear Rini saying, in that very same tone and using that very same nickname that Usagi did when speaking of him. Mamo.

She squeezed her eyes closed and clenched the flame in her fist until it scorched her. She is still Mamoru's blood.

"What happens?" She asked suddenly. "What brings on the end of this world?"

Setsuna shook her head. "I don't know—I've never seen that time," she told her. "All I know is what we were told."

"And who told you?"

Setsuna glanced between her fellow guardians, and then looked away. "Endymion," she said. "Mamoru's future identity."

The information felt heavy in her gut, and the miniscule amount of control she had reigned in cracked back open as her anger returned to the surface. Had they been led down the garden path, or did the Earthen guardian speak true of his planet and their destiny?

"What difference does it make?" Haruka said. "Even if it never happens, even if Earth is safe, Usagi still has a duty to her daughter, and to this planet."

Seiya couldn't stand it. "She has a duty to herself—"

"Seiya," Michiru said calmly, and gently placed her hand on the hot skin of her arm, perhaps in comfort. "You have to understand."

She didn't want to. She could feel herself shaking, could hear the laser crackle around her body. Maybe she could walk beyond the cliff's edge; maybe she had the power to walk on Earth's thin air.

"Michiru," Haruka warned, and Michiru's humming touch disappeared. Teal eyes met her own, but they weren't cold, and they weren't afraid. They were wary. "You should go."

So she did.

No more secrets.

Usagi drew her knees close in to her chest and looped her arms around them tightly, face burrowed against her cold skin. It was well into the night, cooler than any usual summer evening, but she left her balcony door wide open, just in case Seiya came by—wishful thinking.

Why would she, after how badly she had hurt her?

She sniffled and listened to the quiet of the night, with little more than occasional traffic and the rustle of her billowing curtains. Behind the unusual silence, inside her jumbled mind, she could hear Seiya's voice blending with Rini's, over and over again—and every time, a shiver coursed down her spine.

I'm so sorry, Seiya.

The others had found her, standing in the car park, eyes filled with tears as she watched Seiya run. There was no point in chasing her; no point in calling her name—she didn't want to be near her, not in that moment. Her friends said little, all downcast gazes and sympathetic smiles that said this is for the best.

They were wrong.

Taiki assured her that Seiya would be all right—she would understand and would return to her once she calmed down. Yaten agreed, but her emerald eyes watched the horizon, worried for her cousin. They led her away, and standing timidly nearby had been Rini, gripping the doorframe, looking small and like the weight of the world had fallen on her shoulders.

She couldn't process that—she didn't want to.

She wanted to be strong, no longer the cry baby she had been termed all these years, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. She couldn't stop hearing the pain in that velour voice, as she said her name—not the nickname she had grown to adore from those lips, but her real name.

She couldn't stop hearing her say you're no incarnated princess, no future queen—you're exactly who you want to be, now—in this life.

If only that were true.

"Chibi?"

Usagi smudged the tears away with the back of her hand and looked up at Chibi Chibi, who had let herself in and stood at the end of her bed, a dinosaur huddled tightly to her chest. Her vivid blue eyes blinked the sleepiness away and her hair stuck out in wonky curls about her face. The sight made Usagi smile. "Come here, Chibi."

The little girl wasted no time in scrambling into her arms with a great sigh, head rested against her heart. Usagi rocked her lightly. "Maybe I should have gone after her," she said aloud. "I should have stopped her…"

Chibi looked up at her, as though she were listening intently. Her eyes glistened with something so familiar—but it wasn't that of herself, it was something else entirely, she was sure. She ran her fingernails through her pink tendrils. "I should have told her."

So often the toddler repeated what she heard, and spoke very few other words, and Usagi fully expected her to do this once again, but she didn't. Instead, she reached up a single finger to Usagi's lips and let out a gentle shush, just as she had learned almost two years prior.

Usagi laughed at her. "Okay, okay—I get the hint…"

Chibi's tiny finger lingered on her lips, tracing the skin as though it were foreign to her. Her touch was as soft as a butterfly's wings, and for the first moment that night, Usagi felt lighter once more. "Who are you, little one?"

She belongs here, with you.

She startled as the phone on her dresser rang loudly—she knew who it would be. "Mamo," she said as she cradled the receiver to her ear.

"Usako," his warm voice replied, and she felt a wave of guilt for how intensely she wished she hadn't answered. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly, though she hoped he wouldn't be able to tell. "How are you feeling? How are your studies?"

"I'm good, and things are coming along well here," he told her. "I wanted to check in with you—it's been a few days."

The last time they had spoken was some days ago, amongst the mess of her attack and reconciliation with the scouts—he knew none of that—and he had been well, feeling better than ever and making headway in his research.

"Everything's good," she said tightly, cursing herself for sounding so wound up. Chibi grumbled in her arms. "Nothing to worry about."

There was a pause on the line. "You know, when someone says there's nothing to worry about, before the other has expressed worry, there's usually something to worry about," he said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Mamo," she lied. "A couple of little things, but nothing you need worry about."

She knew he wouldn't back down—not once he knew something was amiss. "Setsuna gives me the same answer when I ask her," he said sceptically. "Please, Usako, if there's something wrong, I need to know—I'll come straight home—"

"There's no need," she interrupted, shifting the sleeping girl in her lap. "We're just busy, occupying the Starlights, and Rini, Chibi and Helios."

"Rini," he repeated, "how is she?"

Usagi thought of the way the adolescent raced off ahead of her toward home and snuck off to her room; of how few words she had said once the others told her what had happened. She thought of the way her fingers had danced across the ivory keys, and the captivating sound that had come out of her mouth. "She's well," she said. "Just coming to terms with being a teenager."

He chuckled lightly. "I'm sure," he said. "She always was a sensitive soul—like her mother."

Like her mother.

She swallowed the knot that suddenly lodged in her throat. "Mamo, it's very late here and I have to go—I have to get Chibi down to sleep," she said quickly. "I'll speak to you tomorrow, okay?"

He sounded surprised, but they said their goodbyes nonetheless—no sugary words, no lingering hesitations. When she hung up the phone, she held a hand to her eyes as she let the lump burst in her throat. Just a few more tears—just a few.

Rini cast her eye away from the teeny crack in the door, chewing her lip as she listened to the parting words between Mamoru and Usagi; heard the stifled cry from the blonde's throat. Her chest ached fiercely between slumped shoulders and she slunk away, cursing herself for the mess she had caused. Another mess.

The moments she had spent singing and pattering her fingertips across the piano keys felt like an airy dream—like a memory so wonderful that she hadn't been able to savour it all at once. Those wispy edges had removed all sense of everything and everyone around her, and once she reopened her eyes—once she saw the tense faces and heard the heated words around her—she knew she had risked something important to her future mother.

"She knows, doesn't she?" She had said quietly, as her friends shuffled uncomfortably in the wake of Usagi and Seiya's departure. "This is all my fault…"

"It's not your fault," Rei had told her, placing a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "She was going to have to find out, eventually."

But Rei was wrong—it was her fault, and now she felt awash with so many emotions she didn't know what to do.

"I can't help that I was born," she grumbled as she made her way down the dark hallway. "And I definitely can't help who my father is…"

She folded her arms over her chest defiantly. It wasn't fair. She didn't want to be worrying about this—she didn't want to feel guilty. She wanted to be basking in the aftermath of her second kiss with Helios, a moment that had given her more purpose than she was sure she'd ever known. She wanted to be awestruck but her sudden musical abilities, so striking and freeing that they lit her up from the inside.

But she couldn't. Instead, she couldn't shake this wretched feeling—like her very existence hurt those around her.

"I can't cease to exist," she murmured, wrapping her arms around her torso as her feet found the top of the stairwell. "But I can't help the way I feel."

And neither can Seiya.

The thought pricked at her like a needle, and she let out a frustrated sigh. What she wouldn't have given to just run off to Helios—to curl against his warmth and tell him everything. But that wasn't what she had to do; she knew what she had to do.

She descended the stairs quietly and stole one of Usagi's jackets from the rack at the front door, threading her arms through and quickly leaving her home. She wouldn't be long—they wouldn't even know that she was gone.

"She'll come home, when she's ready," she could hear Yaten saying to her earlier that day. "She does this, back home, when things don't go her way. She'll go somewhere dark, where she can think—but she'll come back, she always does."

The streetlights illuminated a cloudy night, and she walked briskly down the footpath, head down and hands jammed in her pockets. Somewhere dark—what did that mean?

She came to a halt down a dim alleyway and let out a sigh. "What does that mean?" She said to herself, pulling a hand from her pocket as it hummed strangely. She peered at it, wondering why it prickled, and gasped as a crackle of energy grew to life in her palm—a tiny, electric bolt that tugged her along, like someone had a hold of her hand. "Whoa…"

It steered her through the city, zapping at her occasionally and whizzing around her hand in multiple black and pink bolts if she didn't close her fist to hide it. The sensation grew stronger and she moved faster, ending up in a jog, then a run, and finally a sprint. Each step seemed more agile and swift than she knew she was capable of, and as the city disappeared behind her, she felt her heart start to thrum with a rush of excitement.

If something happens to me again, I am so screwed…

There was something a bit exhilarating about it, if she was being completely honest.

The energy drew her out of the city, and she rapidly lost track of how far she had travelled, and how long she had been gone. She felt breathless, without doubt, but the oxygen continued to pump and give her a new source of life, just as she felt she was running out. Well beyond the outskirts of Tokyo, the power fizzled out, and she found herself in the thick of a forest, a place she had never been. She wandered amongst the trees, the sound of cicadas droning all around her, and began to she grow nervous, unable to cover up the cracks of leaves and branches underfoot that gave away her position. What if a wild animal were to come?

The thought almost made her laugh—why worry about wild animals, when there was a far more dangerous opponent on the hunt for her?

She could hardly see where she was going, and she wished that her power would return so she could find her way, but suddenly the ground became rocky as she entered a clearing. A breeze blew and the slither of the moon lit up the cliff face she had been led to, and there, sitting at its very edge, was the silhouette of a woman with a long ponytail.

"Seiya?"

The Starlight jumped and spun to look at her. "Rini?" She said in astonishment. "What are you doing—how did you get here?"

Rini shrugged and wrung her hands in front of her anxiously. "I, um…something just sort of…led me here…" She squinted at Seiya as she inched closer, wondering if her tired eyes were playing tricks on her as she noticed a subtle blue glow that pulsed beneath her skin. "Seiya, you're glowing!"

Seiya tore her gaze away from Rini to look down at her hands, though she seemed unfazed. "Yeah," she said indifferently. "It's been doing that for a while." She narrowed her eyes at the girl. "You shouldn't be out here, it's too dangerous—"

"I just wanted to come find you," she blurted out. "The others said you would come back when you were ready but I just…" She trailed off. "I thought it was the right thing to do."

In the half light, she saw Seiya draw in a deep breath and let it back out, gazing off into the distance, across what Rini imagined would be lush vegetation and perhaps an ocean, if it were lit up by day. Instead, it was just a dark mess, a starry sky, and a moon.

She didn't know what to say, and suddenly the weight of the situation was upon her—the way she'd dashed all the way to the Starlight, without hesitation, and the way she felt so affected by her pain. What could she do—tell her she was sorry? That she wished it weren't true?

Be brave, she heard Helios' voice encourage, be the courageous warrior that you are.

She moved further out onto the precipice, until she was standing right by her, and sat down quietly. Closer up, she could see the glittering cobalt all over her—not only under her skin, but shot through her jet black hair; flecked in her eyes; captured on the ends of her long lashes. It was stunning.

"I know how you feel about Usagi," she began softly, "and I know that maybe this is hard for you…knowing who I really am." She balled herself up tightly, vulnerably. "But I really don't want you to hate me."

Seiya snapped her head back to look at her, wide eyed. "I could never hate you, Rini," she said resolutely. "Not ever."

Rini nestled her chin against her knees. "I just thought maybe you did, now…"

Seiya let out an airy chuckle, shaking her head. She scooted closer and looped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a firm squeeze. There was a hiss of power that they both ignored, too occupied within the moment. They were quiet a moment, as a light breeze swept around them and the nightlife continued to hum. "The first time I saw you, you took my breath away, because you look so much like Odango—but it was when you opened your mouth and gave me so much attitude that I knew I liked you," Seiya said finally. "This is hard, but there's no way I could hate you, okay?"

Rini nodded. "I just want to be friends," she said, perhaps somewhat shyly. "Even if you call me 'kid' and kinda drive me nuts sometimes…"

"I think that can be arranged," Seiya said with a grin. "Besides, it seems we're pretty great friends in the future—looks like you're my protégée." She paused, before asking: "That something you remember, or…?"

"No, I don't," Rini said. She thought about it, brow furrowed. In her days before finally reaching Earth, when her reality had been warped and bent, she could recall the tumble of a piano tune and a jumble of musical notes blurring before her eyes. She didn't know what it meant. "I just knew, the moment I saw your piano back on Kinmoku, that I could play—and it was the same earlier today, but this time I couldn't help but sing…it felt kind of like a tickle in my throat, or a cry that I just had to let out." She shook her head, feeling ridiculous. "That probably sounds weird."

Seiya was staring at her curiously. "It doesn't at all," she said. "So it's all new to you, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, and then smirked. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I've been told to stop trying to sing on multiple occasions—something about making Usagi's ears bleed…"

Seiya laughed. "Well, you're not bad," she teased, "for an amateur."

"Hey!"

"And I guess I can show you a few tricks, if that's what you really want." She winked at her cockily. "You'll be learning from a pro."

Rini rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"It's true!" Seiya insisted. "So what's next on the agenda—guitar, drums? I don't know if you've heard, but I play a mean harmonica."

"Guitar would be kind of cool," she said, after her giggling had settled. She looked over at Seiya, who had released her grip around her shoulders and was resting back on the palms of her hands lazily. "Why does it feel like you're the one who's comforting me now?"

Seiya sighed. "Because I hate to see you upset." She gave her a smile, one that held a hint of sadness. "A bit like your mother."

Rini bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Seiya."

"Don't you dare," she said firmly. "This is not your fault." She raked a hand through her messy hair and looked up to the crescent moon. "It just wasn't meant to be."

Is anything meant to be?

Seiya pushed up off the ground, stretching her arms out long with a loud yawn. Rini noticed that the magical shimmer had died down, and the senshi looked far more human than she had moments earlier. "Come on, time to get you home," she said.

Rini clambered to her feet and made to follow her, when a question itched at her. "Seiya?"

"Mm?"

"Was that…your song?" She asked tentatively. "The one I played today?"

Seiya turned back to her and tilted her head. "Yeah, it was."

Of course it was. Rini felt a swell of honour that she would teach her something so raw; so heartfelt. "It's beautiful."

Seiya smiled at her—kind and warm; the smile that made Rini's stomach flip. "Sounded even more beautiful with you singing it," she told her.

Rini blushed and then waved her off awkwardly. "Don't go getting all mushy on me now…"

Seiya snorted a laugh. "Whatever," she said, and then flashed her a grin. "Race you home?"

"You're on."

Not far away, three women sat around their dining table under dim lamplight, quiet as the patter of warm rain began to fall on the roof of their home. There was an intensity in the air; unspoken words that hung loosely between them.

Setsuna sat forward and cupped her long fingers around her steaming coffee—the only thing that would perhaps push her through what would end up being a sleepless night. She eyed her companions, still with their thoughts, and found herself staring up at the second hand of the clock, ticking away on the wall.

Seconds, minutes, hours, she thought idly, how much can change in time?

"What are we going to do?"

Haruka's voice was deep with tiredness, her body heavy and slumped in her chair and an untouched beer grasped in her hand. She broke her downcast gaze and looked around at the two other women. "What are we going to do?" She repeated.

"There's nothing we can do, Haruka," Setsuna said. "We continue to protect Usagi and this solar system—we cannot let her or anyone else distract us from our duty."

Her eyes were dark with worry. "She's dangerous."

"You don't know that—"

"You saw her," Haruka pressed. "Her energy was uncontainable—she rocked the very foundation and life of this planet with her emotional meltdown." She shook her head. "And she didn't even know it."

Setsuna had seen Seiya—the way her power had ignited under her flesh and behind her eyes; bleeding into the ground she stood upon and shaking them to the bone. She could still hear the commanding voice that boomed around them; could still feel the bolts that zoomed in the atmosphere. "That's right—she didn't know," she replied. "You can't be certain that what she possesses can't be controlled."

Haruka ignored her and looked to her quiet girlfriend. "You touched her, Michiru," she said. "What did you see?"

Michiru shook her head slowly, fingers at her lips thoughtfully. "It's not what I saw, it's what I felt," she responded. "The Sailor Starlights are not human—humanoid, perhaps, but certainly not human as we are." She looked around at them both. "Seiya is something more."

Haruka's jaw tightened and she said nothing.

Strange, Setsuna found herself thinking. After all the huffing and puffing—after all the hateful words spewed about the dark-haired warrior—Haruka had little to say. Too little.

"Is she a threat?" Setsuna asked.

Michiru locked eyes with her. "She could be, if she wanted to."

She thought of the adoring glances Seiya gave their princess, and the many times she had risked her life to save Usagi's. There was no question of her devotion to the Moon warrior, but as she thought about the future kingdom they were sworn to protect—the man that led that time—she once again felt sickly torn. "We just have to be careful, and we have to be ready," she said finally. "She is powerful."

Haruka drew the bottle to her lips and took a swig. "Powerful," she mused. "That power may just come in handy."

A crystalline fortress; my sparkling prison.

The baby blue of daybreak glistened through the crystal ceiling above her, their sun's rays ricocheting off each sharp edge. The sight was dizzying—hypnotising—and as she lay in the cool of her chamber, it didn't matter how far she fell and spun out of control.

"Serenity…"

The linen beneath her body was an unwelcome comfort as she felt strapped down in its softness, unable to move an inch. The silence was oppressive, as it always was here—leaving only the sound of her breath, her words, and her whimpers. She curled her fingers into the bedspread, wishing for home.

Baby blue dulled to navy before her weary eyes, her moon beaming down on her and the thousands of stars amplified in each pane of jagged crystal. The night didn't hold peace—it allowed her fears to wander free.

She could see a figure in the shadows, circling her bed like a vulture. A cape billowed from broad shoulders and the shine of whitish hair reflected in the moonlight. He came to a stop before her and suddenly she could see the inverted black moon upon his forehead morphing to a red eye that could control her no matter what she did.

Diamond.

Her jaw drew tight, arms pressed firm, body hot with dread. She struggled, eyes squeezed shut, but she knew it was no use. If she reopened her them she would be his—another being in her life that owned her; someone else to dictate her future.

"Usako?"

The release came like a gulp of air, and when she looked up, Mamoru was there in his place, in his white king's attire as he knelt over her. His masked eyes gazed down at her with concern, and then something that knitted the strange space between love and pity. She could hardly think—only feel that she was naked and vulnerable to his gentle touch that she didn't want. Not here; not in their shared bed. Not in this warped place.

"Usako," he murmured again, gloved hand cupping her cheek, lips grazing the crescent moon on her forehead.

Without this, she will not exist, she could hear a voice telling her, so close by her ear that it made her heart race. You wouldn't want that now, would you?

She turned her cheek to the pillow and searched the glinting shadows, and his terrifyingly beautiful face appeared in the darkness. Watching them, that slanted smile and dark eyes prying into her world. He flickered closer to them, and she felt panic take hold, desperately trying to alert Mamoru as he breathed against her neck and kissed her skin.

This is wrong, Usagi, the voice said, mocking the words Seiya had said to her. Wrong, wrong, wrong…

Without warning, Mamoru's warmth was gone, and Chaos had her pinned by the throat. His black eyes roamed across her. "They all have plans for you—you were never allowed to be free," he growled as she fought. "Let me make you a deal you cannot refuse, Guardian."

Her palace began to fade and the edges burned a rusted red, and the swirl and crackle of purples and lightning bolts began to pool in the roofline above her as she felt herself slipping away. A part of her wanted to hear his offer, but her instinct was still to fight—fight the men who had defined and stolen from her; fight her destiny; fight herself.

But then there was a citrus scent, and a husky hum, so close by, so that's what she fought for instead.

"Odango, Odango," she could hear her saying, voice urgent yet sweet as she thrashed, "Usagi, wake up…"

"Odango, Odango," Seiya coaxed, trying to catch Usagi's flailing hands as she beat at her with clenched fists. "Usagi, wake up—oof!"

The petite girl awoke with a guttural gasp and an unexpected wave of strength, throwing herself at her imaginary attacker and rolling Seiya beneath her in one quick move. She panted for air, panicked eyes staring down at Seiya from where she was straddled across her lap, fingers biting into her forearms painfully. "It's alright," Seiya said quietly, going still to avoid her any further fear, "you were having a nightmare."

Seiya had spent many hours alone on the stony mountaintop, just thinking and toying with the laser that rocketed within her, until Rini had found her. Perhaps the pink-haired teen was the last person Seiya told herself she wanted to see in that moment, but once she arrived—once she saw the pain that she, too, was enduring—she felt the sharp edge of her pain dull, just a little. After a spirited race home, and once she watched Rini's attic light go out, she started for home—but the unmistakable feeling of Usagi's emotions hit her in a wave, and she knew she had to see that she was all right.

She had lithely landed onto Usagi's balcony, where the fluttering drapes revealed a silhouette that was writhing between her sheets. The fear—the claustrophobia—made it hard to breathe, and she crossed the threshold into her room, forgetting what was appropriate or right and caring only about helping the young woman who was so afraid.

And now here she was, flat on her back staring up at the girl, her blouse askew and her chest flushed. Thank God I'm not in my male form…

"Seiya?" She breathed, looking disoriented and confused. "What…?"

The weight and warmth of her body and the image of her cascading blonde pigtails was beyond distracting, but Seiya pushed her thoughts away. "I came by—Rini found me—and I just…I knew something was wrong," she told her, voice rough. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cross a line, or frighten you…"

It seemed Usagi wasn't listening, and Seiya sucked in a breath as she drew a fingertip to her cheek, head tilted and half-lidded eyes trailing her curiously. Her touch feathered her jaw, her neck and collarbone, and finally the swell of her breast through her sheer t-shirt. Seiya's heart thundered under her fingers and her body reacted viscerally— back begging to arch; nipple peaking through the fabric; blood rushing to her core.

"Usagi…" She murmured—husky, pleading.

For what? To stop, or for more?

She continued to trail her ribcage, her stomach, eyes lingering on her chest and the curve of her waist—trancelike, as though she were the most unusual, alluring creature she had ever seen.

You know you wield this power—don't abuse it.

They locked eyes, and there was something dark and craving behind the cerulean blue—a look Seiya had only seen so briefly a handful of times before. Something had emboldened her to act on her instincts, something that made her forget all about the dire consequences of her actions.

She couldn't let her forget.

As her fingertips skimmed up her chest once more—and God it felt good—Seiya grasped her hand softly and sat upright, drawing them closer together. "Odango," she said, looking at her beautiful face with a sad smile. Something flickered on her forehead, too fast to identify, and she ran the pad of her thumb over the spot. "Odango, stop."

Usagi blinked lightly, coming back to herself, and her cheeks flushed scarlet. They sat in a thick silence for a moment, bodies close and hormones racing, until Usagi's eyes went glassy. "I'm so sorry, Seiya," she said shakily. "I never meant to hurt you."

Seiya cupped her cheek. "I know," she whispered, and then dropped her hand away. "I have to go..."

"I don't want you to," Usagi said softly. "These nightmares…" She shook her head, tears catching in her lashes. "I just can't stand being alone, not now."

The rain was pelting down on her back, and she could hear Usagi's cries—feel them tearing at her. She was on her knees, trying to undo the hurt that had been done to this mystical, lovely girl. Trying to fill the gaping hole that had wounded her.

Am I not good enough?

Perhaps it would destroy her, what she wouldn't do for Odango. But she nodded, she stayed, and watched her sleep soundly until the sun broke over the horizon the very next day.