Sailor Moon: Millennials

by PMSmiles

This is a fan repost of all available 33 chapters of The Judge's abandoned work. An epic length and very ambitions fic involving an amnesiac Pluto and a pregnant Usagi. Time and space travel abound in an effort to right wrongs and overcome evil.

28. Chapter 28

DISCLAIMER: Hello. Before I go any further, I want to publicly state that this work of fan fiction is NOT of my own creation. I am simply a fan of this piece and after strenuously searching the internet to read it again after 20 years I have decided to upload it here for anyone else who wants to read it. The real author (The Judge) never finished this work, or at least never updated past chapter 33 (even though it is obvious that the ambitious plot of this story should continue much past this point). So please don't come after me for more updates. There won't be any. Rather enjoy this incomplete fan fiction for what it is and please forgive me for any formatting errors, some of the text files had to be manually edited and I did my best.

_…_…_…_…_…_…_

SAILOR MOON: MILLENNIALS

Chapter 28

A Great Many Meetings, and a Testament to Stubborn Wills

To say that it had been a bad weekend might have been something of an overstatement, but when Makoto woke up on Monday morning, the very first thing she did was to heave a sigh of relief as she remembered that today was the first day of Ami's new part-time job at the hospital.

As expected, Ami had not been overly happy about Makoto's decision to fight a daimon using the Aegis. None of the Senshi had liked the idea when they heard about it, of course, but Makoto didn't have to live with the others—though there were times during that weekend when she truly wished that she did.

Rei would have yelled at her for making such a stupid, dangerous series of decisions, Makoto would have yelled back in self-defense, and they would have avoided each other for a few days thereafter until mutually agreeing to forgive and forget. It would have gone similarly with Minako, except with less yelling, more arguing, and a lot of confusing catch phrases, which probably would have ended the argument with the two of them laughing. Hotaru would have and in fact *had* agreed wholeheartedly with Makoto's decision to go after the daimon, but then given her serious grief for letting it get away AND for the damage she'd done to herself with the Aegis. Haruka—who had something of a reckless streak herself—probably would have shrugged off Makoto's choosing to risk her own neck and then clobbered her for screwing up in battle, while Usagi and ChibiUsa would probably both have gone straight to the forgive and forget part. Michiru would have spent a lot of time worrying about her and trying to get her to be more careful in the future, and Setsuna... Makoto had to admit that she wasn't sure what Setsuna's reaction was or might have been, but she suspected she would have preferred it to Ami's.

It was something of a rule with Ami not to get angry with people for making mistakes. She was too practical for that, and found it much easier to put her time and energy into correcting the error rather than obsessing and raising a stink about it—although that said, Ami could and often did get visibly annoyed if her desire to fix mistakes was frustrated, particularly if it went on for a while. Her periodic blow-ups at Usagi's and Rei's constant squabbling were a good example of this, but even with these occasional flashes of temper, it wasn't the mistake itself that upset Ami; indeed, once such a problem had been corrected, she usually seemed to put it from her mind altogether.

But when someone made a very large mistake, when—against all odds—they did something that they knew better than to do, something that they simply should not have been *able* to do, then Ami noticed, and reacted to it.

Makoto would rather have had Rei yell at her for a week straight than spend the weekend seeing that look in Ami's eyes every time she turned around. It was shock, pity, and disappointment; it was like there was some standard that she had not lived up to, some simple test, far more important than anything to do with pen and paper, that she had somehow failed. Far from being angry with Makoto, Ami was sorry for her—but at the same time, she seemed almost unable to believe that it had happened, that someone she knew and trusted could make this kind of bad judgment. *That* was the truly painful part; Ami's disappointment was not directed out at Makoto, but in on herself, for not seeing the mistake coming, for not being there in time to stop it.

After two full days of feeling the full force of the emotions behind those sad blue eyes as clearly as if they were her own, there were very few things Makoto would not have done to make up for her actions in the park. Waking up to find the source of those troubling emotions gone was a blessed relief for Makoto, right up to the moment where she stepped into the living room and saw Luna sitting on the couch in her human form, reading.

"Was this her idea or yours?" were the first words out of Makoto's mouth.

"Good morning to you, too," Luna replied, closing her book and setting it aside. "I was beginning to think you were going to sleep until noon." Makoto glanced at the clock, grimacing when she saw that it was getting on towards ten; it was a reminder, with all the subtlety of a slap in the face, of just one more problem she was having.

"You didn't answer my question, Luna," Makoto said as she tied the belt of her housecoat shut. It was hard enough to argue with Luna in the first place without trying to do so in your underwear and a too-short nightshirt.

"I spoke with Ami last night," Luna admitted, "but I was planning to come over today in any event. It's past time that we talked about a few things."

Makoto sighed. "Can I at least have breakfast"—she glanced at the clock again and ran a hand over her face—"brunch, whatever... before we get into this?"

"Of course. Calypso?"

"Almost ready," the Nereid said, leaning out of the kitchen with a smile. "Good morning, Mako-chan."

"Caly." Makoto couldn't help it; she blinked. "You... cook?"

"I thought I'd give it a try and see if I've learned as much as I think I have after watching you cook for the last couple of weeks."

Makoto blinked again. "But... the stove? The burners? I thought you couldn't..." Her words trailed off as Calypso held out one of her hands, which was protected by one-half of a pair of oven mitts that Makoto owned. "Oh." Makoto ran a hand over her face, and then said, "I thought you were going to work with Ami."

"We've been discussing it on and off for the last few days," Calypso replied, turning her attention back to something that was sizzling, "but after what happened Friday"—Makoto felt her stomach begin to tighten—"we decided it would be better if I stayed here. After all, if I go around hiding on Ami and making both of us burst into radiance every time a daimon pops up, someone's bound to notice it sooner or later."

"Oh." *I need to go back to bed,* Makoto said to herself, rubbing at her eyes again and yawning. Then, as the sizzling from the kitchen increased, a certain smell hit Makoto's nose; it made her nostrils twitch and started her moving towards the kitchen. "Caly..."

"I know, I hear it, too." There was the sound of a spatula scraping against a frying pan as Makoto got around the divide between her kitchen and her living room. Here she stopped, blinked once more, and then stared at the scene before her.

Calypso had turned herself into a levitating mass of arms. One pair, with the benefit of the oven mitts and a couple of spatulas, was flipping slightly-crispy pancakes at the stove, while the second pair was buttering two pieces of toast, which looked as though they had been done for a while, and were therefore apparently cool enough for Calypso to touch barehanded. The third set of limbs was slicing up an orange, and the last two hands were pouring a glass of milk near the fridge.

"They're supposed to turn brown like this, right?" Calypso asked, turning her head towards Makoto and indicating the just-flipped pancakes with one of the spatulas.

"Uh-huh..."

"Good. Why don't you sit down, then? This ought to be just about done." An eight-armed, one-headed, legless, floating version of Ami making breakfast for her was just too much for Makoto to take in right after getting out of bed; she nodded dumbly, wandered back over to her chair, and sat down, looking dazedly off into space as she tried to wrap her sleep-fuddled brain around the idea of a gaseous, electricity-eating shapeshifter who could cook.

All things considered, Caly turned out to be pretty good in the kitchen. The toast was a bit cool, and the pancakes were a little too crispy on one side, but everything was still completely edible. It seemed that Calypso's only culinary failing was that, since she couldn't touch hot water, she couldn't wash the dishes—or so Makoto thought until after breakfast, when she saw the Nereid immersing the empty dishes into a cloud of mist at the end of one of her arms, along with a healthy dose of liquid soap. When the plate, glass, and cutlery emerged, they were absolutely spotless. Calypso repeated this procedure with the pan she'd used to make the pancakes, then made a face and produced a large ball of greasy grime from the palm of her hand.

"And this goes down the drain, right?" she asked, with a distasteful glance at the wobbling mass.

"Er... yeah."

"Good." Calypso turned her hand over and let the goo fall into the sink, turning the tap on to wash it away and then scrub her hands. Makoto turned to Luna, who shrugged.

"Nereids were always a little obsessed with cleanliness," she said, "and Caly was no exception. It makes sense when you think about how important water is to her physiology, or what effect different sorts of dirt could have if they got into her system."

Again, the "Oh." Even if it was past ten, it was *still* too early in the morning for Makoto to really participate in this kind of talk. *Not that I have much choice,* she thought. "So, Luna... you wanted to talk..."

"I did. Are you going to listen?"

"That depends," Makoto countered. "Are you just going to tell me the same thing that Ami and Hotaru and Michiru and pretty much everyone else have already said? That I shouldn't fight again until I know how to keep the Aegis from going nuclear on us?"

"You *do* have a history of storming into fights even when you're not in ideal condition for them, Makoto. You can't blame the rest of us for being worried that you might do it again. But as a matter of fact, that isn't all I came here for. I thought you might like to hear some things about the Aegis—for instance, why it keeps burning holes through your uniform without leaving a mark on you, or why Hotaru wasn't able to fully restore your arm the other day."

Makoto looked down at her left hand, flexing her fingers and thinking back. After she and Uranus had returned to the other Senshi at the park, they'd stepped through a dimension door to the shelter of a nearby abandoned tent, as a precaution against being spotted by the people Calypso had sensed but been unable to identify. While Uranus brought the others up to speed, Saturn had tried to purge the excess energy the Aegis had discharged into Jupiter's hand; for once, Saturn's healing touch had only been partially successful, reducing the muscle-locking pain to a dull ache, although even that had been enough to allow Jupiter to release the orb. That was when she had seen the black-edged hole the Weapon had left in her gauntlet, as well as the clear, unmarked skin beneath. The others had told her about how the same thing had occurred on Ganymede, although none of them had been entirely sure why it did.

"All right, Luna," Makoto said, closing her hand. "Tell me why that happens."

"I'll do better than that," Luna said. "I'll show you. Calypso, could you get us a magnet from off of the fridge?"

"Certainly." The Nereid drifted out to the kitchen and returned, looking as curious as Makoto was to know what Luna was up to.

"Give it to Makoto." Calypso did that, having a brief moment of trouble when the sticker refused to release her hand. "Now, Makoto, touch the magnet to one of the sections of the Aegis. It doesn't matter which one."

Giving Luna a suspicious look, Makoto did as she was told, pulling one of the smaller orbs away from her neck and holding it on the magnet. She jumped slightly and dropped both objects as the pink sphere flashed a soft, sudden green. Drawn by its connection to the rest of the Aegis, the orb zipped back to its place in the necklace with a soft click, while the magnetic strip fell to the floor.

"Calypso, pick up the magnet again, and tell us what you feel."

Calypso did that, and blinked in surprise. "It's... weakened." The Nereid turned her hand over, and after hanging for a precarious moment, the magnet strip fell away to the floor. "Its level of magnetic attraction has been reduced by almost a third. How did...?"

"The Aegis are designed to draw energy from their environment," Luna explained. "They absorb free electricity, magnetic force, and even certain kinds of radiation, and then store it up to power their various abilities. The normal rate of absorption is very low, but when a section is brought into direct contact with a potential energy source, it creates a higher drain. If the Aegis is using up power to create an attack, the rate of absorption increased even further."

Luna sat there and looked at Makoto and Calypso, apparently waiting for one of them to make a connection. Not too surprisingly, the Nereid was the first to get that look of dawning realization in her eyes.

"Then... whenever Makoto uses the Aegis... if she actually *touches* them..."

"...then they'll draw power out of her just as readily as they would anything else," Luna finished. "Faster, in fact. They're already linked to her in a fashion, and as Jupiter, Makoto is a much stronger source of electrical energy than most others you could find—but once her energy is gone, it's *gone.* THAT's why Hotaru couldn't fully restore your arm, Makoto. She's said on any number of occasions that she can't create energy, only move it around. If you put too much energy into the Aegis, you won't have enough left to keep your heart beating, to say nothing of the sort of damage that a forced electrical drain can have on your nervous system before that."

Realizing that she was toying with the Aegis, Makoto quickly pulled her hand away from the necklace. "But if the Aegis were taking energy *away* from me instead of putting it out... why did it burn my glove?"

"Your fuku is created directly from your powers," Luna said. "That's why you girls sometimes revert to normal in situations where your energy is being drained off; the potential energy of the fuku is sacrificed first, to spare as much of your vital energy as possible. It'd be more accurate to say that the Aegis disintegrated your glove rather than that the orb burnt it, but regardless, if you're using so much of your energy that your fuku starts to break up, you're well into the danger area."

"What if she doesn't hold the Aegis during a fight?" Calypso said. "That would be safer, wouldn't it?"

"No," Makoto said immediately, "it wouldn't. My control over the Aegis is strongest if I'm in direct contact with them. If I hadn't been holding that orb when I tried to create the cage, the Aegis would have reacted differently, and probably hurt someone." She paused, blinked, and added, "I'm guessing that what I just said is an out-take from the instruction manual these things have been cramming into my head for the past week, right?"

"It certainly sounded that way," Calypso agreed.

"That's what I figured," Makoto mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. "Is this supposed to happen, Luna?"

"I don't know, Makoto. As I said once before, four of your predecessors died from trying to use the Aegis at full power. A fifth had her abilities burned down to almost nothing, and one other was left so mentally unstable that she had to be confined for the rest of her life. All of the other Jupiters who ever used the Aegis installed the orbs into other devices as power sources; it was a much safer and far less taxing method, but it also kept the Weapon itself from ever fully activating. It could be that the Aegis are only doing now what Serenity I originally designed them to do, but unless they give you answer to that themselves or Rei unearths it in the Book of Ages, we may never know for certain."

"What? Come on, Luna; in that whole huge computer library, there must be something like a blueprint..." Makoto's voice trailed off as she took in Luna's expression. "There... isn't?"

"There's a large collection of information on what the Aegis can be used for," Luna said, "but there's nothing on *how* they work except for a few vague theories. It's the same story if you try to find similar information on the ginzuishou, the Talismans, the Time Gate, or a few other equivalently powerful items; you get lots of their history and guidance for using them, but nothing that could tell you how to build one on your own. The common belief among the court scholars on the Moon was that the first Serenity purged all the information from the archives and then sealed it up inside the ginzuishou, where nobody who was likely to misuse it could get their hands on it. That would have been just one more reason why Beryl wanted to get her hands on the crystal so badly."

"I can't ask Usagi to start fiddling around with the ginzuishou over this," Makoto protested.

"I don't think you'll have to. The safest and most logical place for Serenity to have put her notes on the Aegis is in *there*"—Luna pointed at the Weapon hanging around Makoto's neck—"where any Jupiter who had need of the data could get it, and where no one else would even be aware of it. I may be wrong, Makoto, but I think that all you need to do to figure out what the Aegis are doing to you is to access that information they've been channeling into your mind. I can help with that, if you'll let me."

Makoto looked at Luna, then turned to stare silently at the potted sapling over by the balcony. At length, she asked, "If you go inside my mind, you'll have to search through most of my memories to be sure of what the Aegis have been doing, won't you, Luna?"

"I will," Luna said with a sympathetic look. "We don't have to do this, Makoto. I literally *can't* do it unless you've given me permission. But you should know, whenever someone or something else touches your mind, it leaves traces that are just like fingerprints. Even if it turns out that my guess about the Aegis holding their own design schematics is wrong, anything in your past that they found important might help us to understand whatever it is that they're doing to you now."

"I know, I know... and I *want* to know what they're doing. It's just..." Makoto broke off, glancing at the tree again and rubbing her arm. "I got a little... unhinged... the last couple of times somebody went poking around in my mind, Luna. There are... some things..." She bit her lip and fell briefly silent once more. "Luna, I want you to promise me... no matter what you see, you won't talk to anyone about it. Not unless it has something to do with the Aegis."

"I understand, Makoto. I give you my word that I won't discuss anything I see about your life; only the Aegis." She genuinely meant that, and Makoto nodded.

"Thank you." The room was silent for several long seconds, and then Makoto hesitantly asked, "Um... are we going to try this right now?"

"No," Luna said. "The Aegis have already surprised us once, and they're so closely linked to you now that I can't imagine that they *won't* react to anything I try, so we're not going to take any chances. We'll try tonight, at the training session, when we have both Mercury and Saturn on hand to help."

Makoto wasn't sure if she should be reassured by the precautions or spooked by the implication that the Aegis might fry her or Luna's brain, but she nodded anyway.

"In that case," she added, pushing herself up from her chair, "if you two don't mind, I'm going to go have a shower and finish waking up."

"Of course," Luna replied, as Calypso murmured something similar. The two of them turned to speak to one another, but their heads both whipped back around as Makoto let out a startled cry and began to fall over.

With a great billowing of blue mist and a light sound like ten thousand tiny wind chimes, Calypso rushed forward, transforming into a vaguely-defined sort of cushion which caught Makoto half a foot or so above the floor. When the lack of an impact registered a moment later, Makoto opened one eye and peeked past her defensively raised arms. Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder at Luna and said, "When you go digging around in my head tonight, be sure to ask when I can expect to get my balance back."

"Noted," Luna replied, not smiling outwardly in the least as Calypso extended herself upwards and resumed human shape to help Makoto stand.

"Are you okay, Mako-chan?"

"Yeah, Caly, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Not a problem." The Nereid smiled mischievously as she added, "Maybe I'd better help you with your shower, too." She started laughing as Makoto gave her a startled, blushing look. "Go on, you silly thing. And I promise, I won't sneak in under the door."

Once Makoto was safely in the bathroom, with the door closed and the water on, Luna turned a level gaze on Calypso. The Nereid met it with an unwavering expression of innocence, until finally Luna sighed and shook her head.

"You're sure there's nothing else you can remember that might be helpful?" she asked, changing the subject.

"You know as much about the Aegis now as I do or Elder Darai did," Calypso said, smiling through her serious tone. "I rather like how the passage of a thousand years and the right set of circumstances has turned her idle hobby of raiding old libraries into something so important."

"I'm sure Darai would have appreciated the irony of the situation as well—especially since it's one of her worst students who actually *has* the information in her head."

Calypso gave a mocking little bow, but then her good mood evaporated. "You haven't changed your mind, have you, Luna?"

"No, I haven't. Makoto's even more uncomfortable with the idea of a scan than I'd expected her to be, and having two people inside her mind would only disturb her that much more. Even if that wasn't the case, I still don't think Ami is ready for something like this."

"She could do it," Calypso insisted, something more than simple sisterly pride in her words. "She speaks as clearly to me as she ever did, and she knows *how* to do all the things she used to be capable of..."

"...but is she *comfortable* with the idea of actually doing them again?" Luna interposed smoothly. When the Nereid turned a faint shade of purple as her attempt to mimic a human blush and her natural blue embarrassment mingled, Luna had her answer. "That's what I thought. You have to be patient, Caly. Ami's mental abilities were thrust upon her very suddenly, and even with her Nereid memories, it's going to take her a while to get used to them."

Ami was beginning to get used to the way that half the people in the hospital did a double-take every time they saw her face. It wasn't unexpected; she and her mother did look a lot alike, and she was moving around quite a bit, going places or handling tasks her mother generally didn't during her normal rounds. If she'd had a little more of Minako's, Usagi's, or Calypso's turn of mind, she might have enjoyed making everybody just a little bit less sure of themselves, but as it was, Ami figured that a hospital was not one of the best places to go spreading uncertainty.

Aside from that little detail, her first day on the job was going ahead quite smoothly. Everyone was being polite and helpful, and so far, there had been no accidents, no sudden emergencies... no monster attacks...

With a certain amount of Haruka-like wry amusement, Ami admitted that she'd been expecting a monster to show up almost since opening her eyes at five-thirty this morning. It wasn't pessimism, really, just four years of experience with the general insensitivity and bad timing of the forces of evil. With the way things were going, though, evil must have been on its very best behavior today.

*But the day is far from over,* Ami reminded herself as she put the last of the freshly laundered sheets into the storage closet and then closed the door. *They still have plenty of opportunity to prove me wrong.* Taking hold of the handcart that waited patiently next to her, Ami headed for the elevator. She had one last batch of blankets to drop off on the third floor, and then it should be just about time for lunch.

Another of those briefly startled looks was waiting for her in the elevator. This time, it was Setsuna's ex-doctor, Lucas.

"Good morning, Yotogi-san," Ami said as she steered the cart into the elevator car. A quick glance showed her that Doctor Yotogi was headed for the third floor as well.

"Mizuno-san," he replied, nodding as the doors closed and the car began to descend. "I see that they're keeping you busy."

"Actually, I was just thinking about how quiet it's been today. I'd pictured something rather different after listening to Mother for all these years."

"I can imagine." Lucas grinned. "Joking aside, though, you do seem to have picked a fairly stress-free time to test the waters." He rolled his eyes. "And of course, now that we've both gone and said it out loud, something terrible is going to *have* to happen, just to teach us the error of our lazy ways."

"I was thinking about that as well," Ami said. The elevator doors slid open then, and Lucas held out a hand to hold them, making an 'after you' gesture with his free hand. "Thank you." Ami directed the cart out into the hall, pushed it out of the way of the elevator doors, and then looked around for the closet. As her eyes swept the immediate area, she frowned and put a hand to her stomach.

"Something wrong, Mizuno-san?" Lucas asked curiously as he stepped out of the elevator.

"I just had the oddest feeling..." Her stomach chose that moment to make a small noise, and Ami blushed. "Never mind. I guess I'm not used to being on my feet quite this much before lunch. Fortunately, this is the last stop I have to make before I can go eat."

"Then I'll just get out of your way." Lucas started to leave, then turned back. "Oh, and in case your mother's horror stories left it out, the cafeteria's sandwiches and ramen are edible, but you'll really want to avoid the casserole."

"As it happens, I brought my own." Calypso had been in a culinary mood that morning, and the warm feeling of her sister's affection made up for the likelihood that the sandwiches probably weren't going to be as good as something Makoto might have whipped up.

"Wise precaution," Lucas said, nodding sagely. He started to turn away again, hesitated once more, and then added, "Er... Ami?"

"Yes?"

"The next time you see Setsuna... would you mind passing along my best regards?" Even though he was perhaps ten years her senior, the young doctor still coughed under the amused look Ami gave him. "In a... strictly professional capacity, of course."

"Of course."

"I am allowed to check up on my patients' well-being, after all. Perfectly acceptable."

"Perfectly."

"You're not buying a word of this excuse, are you?"

Ami smiled and shook her head. "Not one. But I'll tell her you said hi. Now, if you'll pardon me, I have to get back to work." With that, she headed for the supply closet. She'd just put away the last of the blankets when she felt that odd stomach pang again. Ami was sure this time that it wasn't hunger, but it didn't quite feel like nausea, either.

*Cramps?* she thought, frowning. *No, that can't be it. I never feel like this, and I'm not due for another two weeks anyway... so then what is it?*

The odd feeling subsided again. Puzzled, Ami closed the closet door and headed back to the elevator.

Sitting patiently in the dim light of its chamber, the substance of its half-complete new body hanging heavy around the edges of its awareness, Proteus reviewed the latest data from its system in the hospital. Part of that system was a series of concealed sensors mounted at the major entrances and exits of the third floor, for the purpose of tracking metabolic activity and infection rates within each individual who passed through one of the doors. The sensors had already proven their usefulness by allowing Proteus to calculate the effectiveness of different forms of its unit's spores against various human body types, but now a routine scan had picked up something quite unexpected.

*11:49:02. A new subject enters the target area and is routinely scanned and classified as #117. Female, between sixteen and eighteen years of age. Subject's metabolic rate is fifteen percent above average for this age and body type; infection level is at zero percent.* All was well here, and Proteus proceeded to the next piece of the puzzle, where the problems began. *11:54:21. Subject #117 leaves the target area and is scanned again. Metabolic activity is unchanged, and infection level remains at zero percent.*

This did not make sense. By all of Proteus's observations and calculations, after five minutes of exposure to the spores, even a person as healthy as this girl should have an infection rating of approximately point- zero-four percent. It had expected that some people would succumb more quickly, and that others would have a higher resistance—that was simple biology—but zero percent infection, in such a saturated environment...

A diagnostic had already confirmed that the sensor was functioning properly. Did that mean, then, that this girl was actually immune to the spores?

Intrigued, Proteus began a more detailed analysis. The girl's biosignature had a close similarity to that of subject #083, a female in her mid-forties, which suggested a kinship.

*Mizuno Rikou,* Proteus noted, cross-referencing its data with the hospital's personnel files. *Age: forty-five. Resident general practitioner, office on second floor. Degrees in biology, chemistry, mathematics... valedictorian, class of 1981... post-graduate studies... ah. One daughter. Mizuno Ami, born September 10th, 1983. Subsequent medical history... is virtually nonexistent. Regular immunizations and checkups, but no indication of major illness or injury. That would seem to support the sensor readings.*

It was unusual, though, that mother and daughter could have such closely matching physiologies and yet react so differently to the spores. Where the younger Mizuno appeared immune—or at the least, very strongly resistant—her mother had been approximately fifteen percent infected during her last passage through the target area, two days ago. That was not enough to influence most humans, let alone control them, but it clearly showed that whatever was allowing the girl to resist the spores did not apply to her mother.

As it made its way through the files, Proteus began to experience an odd, nagging feeling that it was missing something, but it was forced to put the emotion aside for the time being. It had experiments to run, a defensive perimeter to establish, test subjects to acquire, a new body to finish, and evolution to pursue. Even for an entity capable of dividing its awareness between several dozen tasks at a time, that was a lot of work.

The Mizunos were just going to have to wait their turn.

The Imperial apartments were dim and empty, save for the one body and two minds that were supposed to be there. Sitting at a desk in the main room, Janus and Jenna were watching a holographic overhead map of the city of Tokyo, one which was overlaid by slowly-shifting patterns of light in various soft colors.

"I must admit, I'm still not used to that," Janus was saying. "An elemental nexus isn't supposed to be so large, or to have so many of the ley lines gathered into it... with so many conflicting powers flowing around in that region in such large amounts, it's a wonder that the whole city hasn't just spontaneously combusted by now."

"You never did pay enough attention to our geomancy tutor," Jenna chided her brother. "An elemental nexus that is the size of a pin and includes only two elements is every bit as dangerous as this one—which is to say not at all, until someone or something comes along and taps into it. The power can't just go off on its own, and most particularly not here. Yes, there's enough concentrated fire energy in that city to dry up an ocean, but there's also enough water energy to counter that."

"Thank you for the lesson. Now put your expertise to a more immediate use" -the Prince waved his hand at the image—"and help me finish planning this operation."

"Are you still determined to focus on electrical energy?"

"It's the most efficient choice," Janus replied. "More than half of our key systems can run off of it with little or no modification, and restricting ourselves to a single form of energy will mean that only one Senshi—Jupiter— will be aware of the nexi once they become active."

"Unless the Senshi use whatever it was that allowed them to penetrate the cloak of that temporal nexus," Jenna pointed out. "Or if they see the nexi arriving, like last time."

"That's why we're sending Draco."

"Do you really expect him to be able to stand up to a half-dozen Senshi all at once?" Jenna asked as she studied the map. "Even with eight mixed squads of units to back him up?"

"He doesn't have to beat them, Jenna; he just has to delay them." Janus's half of their mouth quirked up in a mirthless smile. "Besides, a hopeless battle against overwhelming odds is just the sort of thing that Draco lives for. Since he insists on handicapping himself by not using his sword against an unarmed opponent *and* by not finishing off an enemy who happens to be a woman, 'hopeless' and 'overwhelming' is just about what he should find."

"It's called chivalry, dear brother. You really should try it sometime." Jenna raised her hand. "The three best points for gathering electrical energy are here, here, and here." Her touch left small red dots on the map, the points of an uneven triangle with roughly thirty square city blocks' worth of space inside. "Unless of course, you wanted to cluster all three nexi over one spot?"

"No, we definitely want them spaced out." Janus pressed a button, and the map rotated, becoming a three-dimensional view of the many buildings in Tokyo. "The longer it takes the Senshi to locate and reach each nexus, the more time they'll have to operate undisturbed. Let's see... if we place this nexus atop *that* building, the others around it will provide some extra concealment when it first appears... and the same in this area."

"The third site isn't so accommodating," Jenna noted as the display scrolled along. "Between the time it lands and the time the cloak goes up, the nexus will be totally exposed, and that's a residential district. Even if the Senshi don't see the nexus themselves, a lot of other people will, and when *they* go to investigate..." She left the thought hanging, letting her brother draw the obvious conclusion.

"Then let's try to make the most of that nexus while we can," Janus said. "Our first nexus ran for roughly three hours, generating a storm the entire time, and it still gave us a large enough reserve to run our environmental systems at nominal levels for six months straight. If we remove the drain of the storm and consider the first of these three nexi a loss, we'd need the other two to run for..." The Prince's forehead furrowed in concentration, and then he sighed. "I can't do these numbers in my head."

"At full power and with no drain," Jenna said, "two nexi could match the total energy output of the original in one hour and twelve minutes. Approximately."

"Thank you. And what if all three of them were able to run uninterrupted? How long to match the output of the first nexus then?"

"Forty-eight minutes. But brother," Jenna added, "I don't need to remind you of how quickly the Senshi have been able to destroy our nexi thus far."

"Ten minutes on average from the time of discovery," Janus said promptly. "I know—and it takes five minutes for a nexus to reach full operational status after its arrival. That leaves us with anywhere from forty to sixty minutes to fill with diversionary tactics." Again, the male half of the face became reflective, and once again, the look and the mood behind it ended in a sigh. "I can't see any way to keep the Senshi off the first nexus for more than half an hour, and that only if the luck goes our way."

"Assuming that we can keep all three nexi running for the full half an hour," Jenna said after some quick calculation, "that would give us roughly half the amount of energy that the first nexus did. Say another six percent of our full capacity, after conversion. That would bring us up to fifteen percent, which would be enough to stabilize the security systems and get one of the factory complexes running under full automation, with a surplus of whatever energy the other two nexi can gather before the Senshi find and destroy them."

"Very well, then; we go for the half hour." Janus zoomed the map image in on the location of the first nexus. "We'll send in a squad of second-generation units to scout the area and pick out the best sites for a perimeter. We'll use first-generations for that—three squads. Once the area is secure, we'll teleport in the nexus, the half-squad of third-generations, and Draco. The remaining units will be divided evenly between the other two nexi." The Prince paused. "I think we should have Archon calculate recall coordinates for those two nexi. The first one's a loss no matter what we do, but I'd like to save the others if we can."

"And the units?"

"Too difficult to teleport individually at this distance. Any of them actually on the nexi when they jump out will be carried along, but as for the rest..." Janus considered it. "The first-generations would hardly be worth the trouble of retrieving even if any of them were likely to survive the battle, but we can program the others to go to ground and rendezvous elsewhere if they're damaged or get left behind. Archon's apprentice should be able to collect them later without revealing herself, if she's as good a mage as he seems to think."

"I'd imagine that she is," Jenna noted. "You know how sparing Archon usually is with praise for his students, but I don't think I've heard him use any words less glowing than 'adequate' or 'sufficient' when describing her."

"As I recall," Janus said with a trace of a smile, "he had a tendency to use those words quite often when discussing *your* performance."

Jenna's eye looked across their face at her brother, unamused.

Watching Setsuna read gave Usagi a headache.

The Moon Princess had come to this realization fairly quickly over the weekend, since—when she wasn't sewing or sketching projects for work—Setsuna chose to pass most of the hours of her convalescence in the company of books. Lots of books. In the last three days, she had gone through six paperbacks, three hardcover volumes, and a couple of mangas besides, covering subjects from one end of the literary spectrum to the other. As they sat together in the living room, Usagi saw that Setsuna was currently reading a romance novel that looked suspiciously like one Minako had bought not too long ago. It was a different book than the one Setsuna had been reading before lunch, and she was already nearly a quarter of the way through it.

It wasn't that Usagi had anything against books—other than school books, of course—it was just that watching Setsuna skim her way through a hundred pages of solid text in a little over half an hour made her feel hopelessly illiterate by comparison.

It didn't help that Setsuna kept changing her hairstyle, either. After the odangos on Thursday, she had tried a ponytail; the day after that, it had been a single heavy braid; and then yesterday, it had been a mass of many small braids, piled up about her head like a miniature crown. Today, Setsuna had decided to just let it all hang freely, a fact that Usagi was very grateful for, as her arms had been hurting after helping set up some of those elaborate hairstyles. Now, if only she could do something about the speed-reading...

Shaking her head with a silent sigh, Usagi went back to the video game she had been playing. It was one of Shingo's: 'Tournament Fighter Gods IV,' or something like that, a loud, colorful, not especially mentally-taxing game where almost impossibly well-defined characters beat each other up and down the screen for reasons that were only half-explained by the instruction manual or in-game text. Usagi had chosen to control a savage, shaggy Beast Lord that reminded her of any number of past monstrous opponents, and she found that she was getting a great deal of satisfaction out of guiding the creature as it mercilessly smacked around the game's roster of female characters, virtually all of whom were attractively fit, generously proportioned, or scantily clad. Where they weren't all three at once.

"HA!" Usagi laughed, as her digital alter-ego backhanded a regal woman in an elegant white gown through a stone wall. "Take that, Goddess of Magic!" The red-furred humanoid raised its arms and head in a howl of triumph, which was mirrored by a remarkably similar gesture from Usagi.

"I'm glad that you've found a way to work out your frustrations, Usagi- chan," Setsuna said, not taking her eyes from her book, "but don't you think you might be getting a bit carried away?"

"Who, me?" Usagi asked, looking away from the television with an innocently wide-eyed smile. The expression was replaced by one of disappointment when she turned back and saw a tall, black-cloaked figure standing opposite her character in the opening of the next stage. "Feh. It's just the Death God. I was sure it would be the Love Goddess this time..."

Setsuna shook her head at the implications of that statement, just as the phone rang. "Cool your vengeful impulses and answer that, would you?"

"I'm pregnant," Usagi said. "You get it."

"I'm an invalid," Setsuna countered, in the same self-serving tone of voice. They both turned away from their respective pastimes to look at one another for a moment, smile the same little smile, and then raise their heads slightly to call out, "MOM!"

They heard Ikuko quite clearly as she said, "Oh, honestly," somewhere down the hall, sounding equally affronted and amused. The phone was on its third ring by then, but it did not sound for a fourth time. Setsuna went back to her reading, and Usagi—who had forgotten to hit 'pause'—went back to her game just in time to see the Death God finish cutting the Beast Lord to ribbons with a digital second cousin of the Silence Glaive. As her warrior's bones got up and did a garish little jig in accordance with the Death God's finishing move, Usagi made a face and then watched the timer on the 'CONTINUE?' screen tick down for a few seconds before she shrugged and switched the game off.

"Change of heart?"

"I've been sitting on this floor too long," Usagi returned, getting to her feet and then shifting the right one around with an annoyed expression. "My foot's asleep." She winced a moment later as the pins-and-needles sensation rushed through the foot in question, and then the expression increased as her back decided that this would be a good time for it to ache. Twisting a little awkwardly to stretch out the twinge, Usagi happened to look out the window at the right time to see Shingo walk through the front gate. In spite of her mild back pain, Usagi had to smile when she saw that Mika was with her brother.

Anybody who looked at Kayama Mika when she happened to be looking at Shingo would have little trouble realizing that the girl clearly had long-term plans that rather heavily involved Shingo, regardless of how often *he* said that they were just friends. From the way Minako tended to sneak knowing glances at the pair on the infrequent occasions when she saw them together, Usagi guessed that the Love Goddess approved of the match, but in a rare moment when her usual sisterly snoopiness lost out to her sisterly concern, Usagi had asked Minako not to divulge anything she knew about Shingo and Mika. She didn't want to risk ruining everything by blurting out something Minako had told her.

"We've got company," Usagi said as she headed for the door. On a mischievous whim, she turned the deadbolt. A moment later, the door rattled briefly as someone tried to open it, and Usagi could almost hear her brother blinking in surprise on the other side.

"Usagi," Shingo called out. Apparently, he could hear his sister's grinning as clearly as she could hear his blinking.

"Yes?" she called back.

"Can you open the door?"

"Yes, I can."

There was a pause. "*Will* you open the door?" Shingo rephrased.

"Yes, I will."

There was another pause, and then an irritated sigh. "Will you open the door NOW?" Shingo growled.

"What's the magic word?"

"Oh, for the love of... just open the door, Usagi! It's COLD out here!" That was true enough. There had been a late cold snap the night before, winter making its power known one last time before spring pushed it away entirely, and it was just cold enough out to make breath steam in the air. Of course, it wasn't really all *that* cold outside, particularly not to someone with a jacket, but Shingo had left his jacket behind when he walked over to Mika's earlier.

"Mika's got a coat," Usagi replied. "She'll be fine. Won't you, Mika- chan?"

"Oh, yes," Mika called back, unmistakable amusement in her voice, "I'm very warm, Usagi-chan. But you really should open the door; I brought something with me that doesn't do well going from warm to cold. Other than Shingo-kun, I mean."

Frowning, Usagi unlocked and opened the door. "Thank you," Shingo said sarcastically, taking a step forward before Usagi halted him with one outstretched hand. "Now what?"

"Ladies first." Shingo gave Usagi a flat look, but he backed up and let Mika go in ahead of him—and then all but leapt through the open door, just in case Usagi tried to lock him out again. He needn't have worried; most of Usagi's attention was on the thickly-wrapped object Mika was carrying, so she only gave the door a halfhearted push and made no effort to bolt it. "Here," Usagi offered, as Mika carefully worked her shoes off with her toes while keeping both hands beneath the wrapped item. "Let me hold that for you."

"No!" Shingo said immediately. Usagi blinked, and in a calmer tone, Shingo added, "You might drop it."

"I haven't dropped anything in months."

"How about that suitcase?"

Usagi glared at her brother. "That was *your* fault."

"It's okay," Mika said, smoothly breaking up the argument. "It's not heavy. I could use some help with my coat, though."

"You heard her, Shingo," Usagi said. "Help her with her coat." Shingo shot a glare of his own back at his sister, but he helped Mika out of her coat, and then hung it up. While the boy's back was turned, Mika glanced at Usagi with a small smile that would have sent Shingo running if he'd seen it, and Usagi answered with a quick wink of approval. She didn't need Minako's guidance to recognize what was going on here, or to entertain herself by taking a hand in it.

"So," Usagi said aloud. "I think I can guess what's in the bag. Is it for me?"

"No," Shingo replied flatly. "It's for Meiou-san."

"It is?" Usagi looked at the two of them—Mika's gaze flickered briefly towards Shingo—and then folded her arms in that ominous fashion her mother often used. "What are you up to this time, Shingo?"

"Nothing."

"Shingo."

"I said, nothing."

"Do I have to get Mom to come out here?"

"Shingo came over last Thursday and told me about what happened to your friend Setsuna," Mika said, while Usagi and Shingo were both still shooting eye daggers at each other. "He wanted to do something to make her feel better, so..."

"...so he had *you* make a doll and do all the work so *he* could take all the credit?"

"Hey!" Shingo protested, even as Mika once again smiled out of his field of view. "I helped! I did! Sort of... I paid for everything Mika had to use making it. That counts as helping, right?"

"I suppose..." Usagi began.

"Good." Shingo looked around. "Is Meiou-san upstairs?"

"No," Setsuna said, coming out of the living room, "as a matter of fact, she's not." Everyone started in surprise, Usagi so violently that she would certainly have dropped the wrapped gift if Mika had given it to her.

"Setsuna," Usagi said after a moment. It almost sounded as though she were about to reprimand her friend for sneaking up on them, but then she indicated Mika with one hand. "Setsuna, this is Kayama Mika. Mika," Usagi continued, turning to the younger girl and reversing the hand-gesture, "this is Meiou Setsuna."

"Pleased to meet you," Setsuna said with a graceful bow.

"Likewise," Mika replied, bowing in turn, and carefully, so as not to shake the wrapped doll too much. There was a brief pause in which the young girl seemed uncertain of how to proceed, and then she stepped forward, holding the gift out. "This is for you, Meiou-san."

Setsuna blinked. "Me? I... not to... sound ungrateful, but... why?"

"It was Shingo's idea, apparently," Usagi replied.

All three ladies turned to Shingo, who blushed. "Well... eh... last week, when you were... upset... I wanted to do something that would cheer you up... and when Hinamatsuri came along, I thought maybe a doll might help, so I went to talk to Mika about it—she makes all these really great china dolls, you see— and she agreed to help me out, and we would have given it to you on Friday, except that I only asked Mika for help the day before, and it takes a while to make one of these things... and she was out of some of the supplies, so we had to go and find them..." Shingo was babbling now, and he knew it, so he clamped his jaw shut and took a moment to breathe. He was about to speak when Setsuna held up one hand.

"I understand, Shingo. May I see it?" Mika nodded and held out the doll; rather than take the gift, Setsuna had the younger girl hold it while she untied the little red ribbon that held the wrapping in place, and then gently pulled the paper down.

From what Shingo had said about Hinamatsuri, Setsuna and Usagi had expected to see a doll similar to the traditional ones of the Festival, and they were not disappointed. Nor were they surprised to see that this particular doll had some differences from the classic ones; like any artist, Mika had her own vision of how the final product should appear, and her own particular methods of making it so.

The doll's attire conveyed the same sense of royalty as those from the Festival. Her elegantly cut kimono was of a soft white fabric that deepened to rosy pink about the shoulders and towards the end of the skirt, bound at the waist with a belt of translucent silver ribbons; in her hair were tiny pins and combs of gold and shining blue, and from one of her delicate hands emerged a fan, blue at the outer edge and bright gold at its heart, with tiny red characters painted on. Rather than an empress, though, the porcelain face conveyed the youth of a princess. Her eyes were closed beneath a string of minuscule silver beads, and her face was peaceful yet firm, as though she was gathering her resolve to issue a difficult order or had just witnessed something unsettling and was steeling herself against it.

It was an exquisite piece of work in every respect, but what caught Setsuna's and Usagi's attention the most was the hair. It was long, reaching to the princess' lower back even with the styling of the pins and combs, and in stark contrast to the rest of the doll's generally pale colors, it was a dark and shining green. Setsuna glanced out of the corner of one eye at her own hair, comparing the two.

"Shingo insisted on the hair being that color," Mika said.

"He did, did he?" Usagi asked, raising an eyebrow at her brother.

"Never mind," Setsuna said. "She's beautiful, Kayama-san. Are you sure you want to give her to me?" Mika nodded, and Setsuna smiled. "Then I accept. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"And thank you for thinking of it, Shingo," Setsuna added, smiling at him as well. Shingo started to reply, then blushed and looked away, scratching at the back of his head and mumbling something that none of the girls caught. Usagi grinned; she was really starting to enjoy the silencing effect Setsuna had on Shingo, but she decided to give him a break for once.

"Shingo, why don't you show Mika-chan my New Year's present? You can put Setsuna's new doll beside it while you're up there."

Shingo switched from embarrassed blush to beaming smile so quickly that, by all rights, the sudden rush of blood from his head should have knocked him unconscious.

"Come on, Mika," he said, backing up towards the stairs. "You really have to see this."

After Shingo and Mika had disappeared, Setsuna looked at Usagi. "Has your brother ever done something like this before? Given a gift to a sick or injured person, I mean."

"Not exactly," Usagi replied. "A few years ago, one of Mika's dolls won first prize in an arts competition, and she decided to give that doll to Shingo. The other boys at school teased him about it, though, so he pushed it back to Mika, and it fell and got smashed. Shingo didn't want to apologize at first, even though Mika was really upset—you know how boys are sometimes—but I pestered him about it, and he finally tried to make a sort of doll as a gift for Mika, to make up for the one he broke."

"I don't recall any of you mentioning that Shingo has much in the way of artistic talent," Setsuna said dubiously.

Usagi rolled her eyes. "Trust me, he doesn't. His first one was supposed to be a miniature Sailor Moon, but it came out looking more like a piglet that fell into a few buckets of paint. It was the thought that counted, though, and Mika forgave him."

"What did you mean, 'his first one?'"

Usagi looked around quickly. "This was back during our first year as Senshi," she explained in a low voice. "Before the time loop. When things got reset, Shingo broke Mika's doll all over again, and since there wasn't any Sailor Moon around to inspire him, he ended up trying to make a miniature Sailor V doll instead. It didn't turn out much better than the one he made the first time around, but I think Mika still has it."

"I see." Setsuna glanced towards the stairs and the bedroom beyond, slowly nodding to herself. Usagi was about to ask why Setsuna was doing that when Ikuko came down the hall.

"Was there someone at the door?" she asked.

"Shingo and Mika had a gift for Setsuna," Usagi said. "They're putting it up in our room, and Shingo's probably showing Mika my Phoenix right about now. Who was that on the phone?"

Ikuko gave her daughter a decidedly cool look before answering. "It was a call from the hospital. Your next checkup's been pushed back to this Friday."

"I'll keep that in mind." Shingo and Mika came downstairs a moment later, Mika minus the doll but with a thoughtful expression on her face. "So, Mika- chan," Usagi asked. "What did you think of my Phoenix?"

"It's very lovely, Usagi-chan." Usagi blinked; Mika's distracted tone did not fit with her appraisal of the tiny crystal sculpture. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but where did you get it?"

"It was delivered on New Year's Day," Usagi replied. "There wasn't a name or a return address, and I haven't been able to think of anyone who would have sent it. Why?"

"Well... it's just that my mother owns a piece almost exactly like it. The only differences are that hers is yellow and white, and it doesn't have an eggshell like yours."

Alarm bells were going off in Usagi's and Setsuna's brains by the end of the first sentence. "Mika," Usagi said carefully, "are you sure it's the same?"

Mika nodded. "Very sure. Mama keeps hers on a shelf, too, so I even looked at them both from about the same angle." The girl paused, then hesitantly added, "This may sound a little strange, but... does yours... when you turn most of the lights off and leave one to shine on the Phoenix, does it seem to... glow?"

"I think that answers your question, Usagi-chan," Setsuna said.

Today, Haruka's car was moving through traffic with something less than its usual racecar pace. Haruka's slower driving didn't have quite so much to do with Michiru being in the passenger seat or Hotaru and ChibiUsa being in the back as it did with the conversation the four of them were carrying on over their communicators.

"There's *another* Phoenix?" Hotaru asked in amazement.

"It certainly seems that way," Setsuna replied through the communicator. "A yellow and white one, according to Mika. One that doesn't have a shell."

"You didn't let Usagi take off to investigate this thing, did you?" Rei asked. Haruka's expression said she had been about to ask the same thing.

"I didn't have to," Setsuna reassured Rei. "As soon as Usagi asked about going over to see it, Mika said her mother had gone out and wouldn't be home until late. She *did* agree to ask her mother if she wouldn't mind having some guests for tea tomorrow, so we'd better get some kind of plan together. I don't think I can talk my way out of the house until I've healed a little more."

"I'll stay home tomorrow and see if I can get myself invited," ChibiUsa promised. "If that doesn't work, we can always send Luna with Usagi and then have someone else follow at a distance using the Lunar Pen."

"Artemis can lend a paw there," Minako put in.

"Are you sure you can make do without your trophy boyfriend for a whole day?" Haruka asked teasingly.

"Oh, I'll survive." Minako fell silent and then added, "We could get Calypso in on it, too, if you really want to get serious. Is Caly there, Mako- chan?"

"I'm here," Calypso answered, cutting off Makoto's reply. "I wouldn't mind helping, but since Ami will be at work, somebody's going to have to come over here and keep an eye on Mako-chan while I'm gone."

"I can look after myself, thank you very much!"

"You've already tripped over your own feet three times since you got out of bed today," Luna said.

"Not to mention that slip in the shower," Calypso added.

"I caught myself that time."

"The *Aegis* caught you. If they hadn't, you..."

"Did I hear that right?" Haruka interrupted as she made a left. "Makoto, you actually *shower* with those things?"

"I can't take them off, Haruka," Makoto responded irritably. "They may move away from me when I transform, but even then, they're still linked to me— by bolts of electricity, no less."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, ouch. Not to mention that I don't even know if we *can* take off those fukus without changing back to normal..." There was a pause.

"I couldn't tell you," Luna said, obviously in response to a questioning look from Makoto. "I know that since your uniforms are created from your own energy, you can cause them to change shape if you concentrate on them, but I honestly don't know if you can physically remove them or not."

"We can," Michiru said confidently.

"Really?" Makoto asked curiously.

"Really?" Hotaru asked, at the same time. ChibiUsa did not speak, but her expression was identical to Hotaru's, and Haruka glanced briefly at Michiru with the same gleam of faint interest in her eye.

"Yes, really. It takes a bit of doing, of course, but the hardest part is getting one of your arms pulled back through the shoulder. If you can manage that, all you have to do from there is slip your arm up and out through the collar, pull the fuku off your other arm, and then just slide it off. It helps that the material is so flexible; otherwise, it would be just about impossible to get out without help." Michiru noticed in the rearview mirror that both younger girls were looking at her strangely, and even Haruka was giving her another sidelong glance after the detailed walkthrough, this one more concerned than curious. She had a feeling Setsuna, Rei, Minako, Makoto, and the two cats all had similar looks on their faces. "Don't tell me it never occurred to any of you to wonder about it?"

"Oh, I've *wondered* about it," ChibiUsa replied slowly. "I just never wondered that *much*..."

"Me neither," Rei said, to murmurs of assent from the others. Michiru looked at her three companions in the car, openly surprised.

"Getting back to the original subject," Haruka said, "who can spare tomorrow afternoon to babysit? Or should we just draw straws after training tonight?"

"I'll do it," Minako said. "Setsuna and Mako-chan can't go anywhere right now; Rei-chan has to stay home and keep reading the Book; Ami-chan has to work; and tonight's already Michiru's turn to watch Usagi-chan. Besides, it'll probably take two of us to make sure Mako-chan stays put at home tomorrow, and she and I get on each other's nerves easily enough when we're both in a good mood."

Wisely, nobody made any smart remarks on that subject. "Sounds like a plan, then," Haruka said. "I guess... aw, damn it."

"What was that?" Minako asked.

"Nothing, Mina-chan," Hotaru replied, grinning at the back of Haruka's head. "Haruka-papa just got cut off by a red light, that's all."

"I can usually make this stretch without having to stop," Haruka grumbled. "It's paying attention to all this chatter that slowed me down."

"Maybe we should get out of your hair, then," Rei said.

"I'd appreciate it."

"Okay, then," Minako agreed. "Talk to you all later." Her communicator blipped off, and was followed shortly by the others.

"Amazing," Haruka said, as the light changed and they began moving forward again. "Not one of them wished you a happy birthday."

"Somehow, I doubt that they've forgotten." Michiru smiled. "You should probably go ahead and get your party face ready for tonight. Right, girls?" she asked, looking into the backseat a second time.

"I don't know what you're talking about," ChibiUsa said. Her tone of deliberately badly-faked ignorance was a perfect match to Hotaru's expression of wide-eyed and unconvincing innocence. "So," the pink-haired princess continued, with a look around at their downtown surroundings, "where exactly are we going, anyway?"

"I have a family meeting I need to attend," Michiru replied. "I feel I should warn you that it's likely to go on for quite a while, and it will be dull and uncomfortable, so if the two of you would rather go somewhere else with Haruka for the duration, I won't mind."

The two younger girls traded glances. "What *sort* of meeting is this, exactly?" ChibiUsa asked slowly.

"It has to do with my inheritance," Michiru said. "My mother's father chose to leave some of his possessions to his grandchildren, in special bank accounts which would be opened to us on our respective eighteenth birthdays. There's also a larger account that holds most of Grandfather's money, and it will be opened and divided between the family this afternoon, after I've received the contents of my personal fund."

After a moment of expectant silence, ChibiUsa said, "That's it?"

"That's it."

"That doesn't sound so bad. Hotaru?"

"I think I'd like to meet the rest of Michiru-mama's family."

"You might want to think again," Haruka warned. "I've been to two of these little get-togethers, and they're not exactly what you'd call warm and fuzzy."

"I don't understand," Hotaru said, frowning.

"How do you suppose people react when a five year-old girl draws apocalyptic floods and oceans of stars with her finger-paints?" Michiru asked gently, looking up at Hotaru's reflection in the rear view mirror. "Or when she tells her eight year-old cousin not to be angry at her father for getting remarried, because it doesn't mean that he loves her or her dead mother any less?"

Hotaru was very quiet as she met Michiru's gaze. "You did that?"

"I did—at least early on. After a while, I learned to keep quiet about the things I saw in my dreams, unless they were extremely important. I always went and talked to my mother after an important dream, or a bad one." Michiru smiled wistfully, her eyes distant. "She'd let me climb into bed next to her, safe and warm, and we'd talk about what I saw until I fell asleep again. After she made Father go sleep in the guest room," Michiru added, the smile growing to a soft laugh. "He was a terrible snorer." She sighed as her eyes came back to the present.

"Your family knows about your dreams, then?" ChibiUsa ventured cautiously. That sigh had not been an unhappy one, but...

Michiru nodded. "To an extent. They don't discuss it, but at the very least, my relatives know that *I* know more than I should. How many of them chalk it up to my being 'gifted' and how many suspect the truth, I couldn't tell you."

"They don't get along with you... because you're smart?" Hotaru asked in astonishment.

"If it were only that," Michiru said, shaking her head. "No, Hotaru, my family doesn't dislike me for my abilities. Certainly, they don't fully understand me and aren't comfortable around me, but it's not what I can do that they dislike; it's what I *didn't* do. I was the only witness when my parents were killed, and I've never spoken to any of my other relatives about it."

Hotaru and ChibiUsa both blinked, and then blinked again as they considered what had happened to Michiru's parents and understood why she couldn't talk about it. Setting aside the questions that story would raise about Michiru's mental stability, how exactly *would* a teenage girl have escaped physically unscathed from a monster powerful enough to shatter a small yacht, when both her parents had not?

"It doesn't help matters that I stand to inherit whatever was left to my parents in addition to my own share of the estate this afternoon," Michiru continued. "I don't need the money and I don't want the money, but more than a few of my relatives want it very badly, and resent the fact that it's going to me. I'd gladly give it to them..."

"...except that they're too snooty to lower themselves to taking handouts," Haruka finished.

"Haruka," Michiru chided, her tone amused, pleading, and reproving all at once.

"I know, I know," Haruka replied, apparently picking up on all three aspects of the word. "I promise I'll behave myself—up to a point. Nothing personal, Michi, but after twenty minutes in a room with your relatives, I generally want to reach for my sword. And on that cheery note," she said, guiding the car to a smooth halt, "we're here."

ChibiUsa looked up at the skyscraper that housed the bank. Up until now, her experience with banks had been limited to infrequent trips to the nearest cash machine, and one or two very dull visits to the local branch office, where she would kick her heels and wait for Ikuko to finish talking with the tellers. This particular institute of finance was a much larger and more important one than the neighborhood office, and less friendly-looking as well, with heavy grey walls, small windows, and a stream of almost grim people in business suits moving in and out of the doors.

The only place in ChibiUsa's experience really similar to this bank was the royal vault back in Crystal Tokyo, but even that didn't really match up. The palace was an arcology, designed to be as close to self-sufficient as possible, and its vaults were mostly storage for the few items that were both important to the palace's operation and not produced within it. Electronics, for the most part, and some small vehicles, or the materials to make more of them. Aside from that, there were also the high-security chambers where some of the most important and powerful items in the system were kept under heavy guard. Useful things, like the interstellar transporter and the palace's mainframe, or seldom-used ones, like the engine which enabled four Senshi to surround the entire palace with an impenetrable force field. No money, though.

Looking up at a real bank for the first time, ChibiUsa decided that she did not really care for its appearance, and said so as they all got out of the car.

"I'm not overly fond of it myself," Michiru agreed, looking up at the building in turn and shaking her head. "Ah well. Shall we go in?" It was a rhetorical question; Michiru took Hotaru's hand and led the way, Haruka following to her left, ChibiUsa to Hotaru's right.

The bank's interior was not much more colorful than its exterior. Against all the drab browns and faded shades of white and grey, ChibiUsa's hair was like a neon sign, and she found herself grateful that she had gone with a dark blue jersey and skirt today instead of something in brighter colors. Haruka's well-worn slacks, blazer, and open-at-the-throat-because-the-damn-collar-chokes-me dress shirt were nothing short of rakish in contrast with the buttoned and pressed lines of all the suits, particularly since she wasn't wearing a tie; Michiru, on the other hand, managed to wear her comfortable blue dress and look like it was the bank that had failed to match *her* appearance, rather than the other way around. Next to that, Hotaru's little-girl violet jumper was rather easily overlooked.

Michiru spoke briefly with the severe-looking receptionist and then proceeded to a door near the back. On the other side was a large meeting room with a sizable table and a dozen or so chairs, only one of which was in use. The occupant was an older man who looked to be somewhere in his fifties, with hair that was black at the roots and mostly white otherwise. Although he had a briefcase and a suit like most of the other businessmen, lawyers, and bankers they'd passed, this man's clothes were a rich shade of brown that was far less drab than the colors dominating the bank. He looked up at their entrance, and his face creased into a smile before he stood up from his seat—and kept on going. ChibiUsa's eyes widened slightly as the man's head continued to gain altitude.

"Good afternoon, Michiru." The voice wasn't especially deep and certainly wasn't menacing, but the fact that it originated a bit more than six feet off the ground definitely added something.

"Benjamin-san," Michiru replied, looking up and returning the warm smile. "I wasn't sure if you'd be here."

"And miss the look on Sumire's face when your mother's share of the estate slips entirely through her fingers? Never. Besides, I thought that the presence of legal counsel might help persuade your aunt and some of the others to be on their best behavior. I do loom rather impressively, after all."

"When you're not hitting your head on the tops of doorframes," Haruka agreed.

"Nice to see you again, too, Tennou-san. And you, Hotaru-chan," the tall man added, looking down with his bright brown eyes. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Bengonin-san," Hotaru said then, looking and sounding very formal, "I'd like to introduce you to Tsukino Chibi-Usagi, my best friend. ChibiUsa, this is Benjamin Darius Wolfe, Michiru-mama's lawyer."

"Pleased to meet you," Benjamin said, bowing.

"The pleasure is mine," ChibiUsa replied automatically. A moment later, she added, "'Counselor?'" in a pained voice.

"That was my fault," Michiru apologized. "Benjamin-san worked with my father a great deal, and he was in and out of our house many times when I was little. I called him 'Bengonin-san' once when I was about four, and he mentioned it to Hotaru the first time they met."

"I had to say something to get her to stop staring at me," Benjamin said lightly, pulling the chair next to his own back from the table for Michiru. "It was either tell her about the nickname or growl at her and chase her out of the room. As I recall, the last little girl I tried that on wasn't very impressed by my imitation of my namesake."

"You sounded more like a broken lawnmower than you did a wolf, Benjamin- san," Michiru said as she sat down. She might have added more, except that Hotaru chose that moment to scramble up onto her lap.

"Still haven't broken her of that, I see," Benjamin noted in amusement. As he moved to pull out the next chair, ChibiUsa noticed that there was a definite stiffness in the motion of Benjamin's left leg when he walked, and as she smiled up at him and settled into the chair, she spotted a long walking stick resting atop the table, on the other side of Benjamin's briefcase.

"She doesn't want to grow up," Haruka replied, leaning back against the wall. "For that matter, I'm beginning to suspect that there are a few others—in this very room, even—who don't want her to grow up either."

"You're a very suspicious person sometimes, Haruka." Michiru hugged Hotaru a little closer as she spoke, then looked up at Benjamin. "As long as we have a few minutes before the others arrive, Benjamin-san, was there anything you needed to discuss with me?"

"Nothing much comes to mind," the lawyer said as he walked back to his chair and sat down. "Unless of course you've decided to let me go and manage your money yourself after today..."

"I wouldn't dream of doing that to an old friend," Michiru assured him.

"...then all that's left is the opening. And the paperwork, of course."

"Of course."

It was another five minutes before Michiru's relatives began to arrive. The first was a young man hardly any older than Haruka and Michiru, brown-haired and bright-eyed, whom Michiru greeted as 'Cousin Kenta.' Contrary to what had been said in the car, ChibiUsa and Hotaru found Kenta's manner to be amicable, even warm, if not out-and-out overflowing with affection. He struck up a dialogue with Haruka almost immediately—they seemed to share that passion for cars—and kept talking animatedly with her until the next arrival walked through the door. This was a sophisticated twenty-something brunette named Mitsuki, who was much less pleasant than Kenta, and reminded ChibiUsa and Hotaru more of the lawyers and bankers milling around outside. She did not talk about cars, or anything else, and instead took a seat across the table, pulled a laptop computer from her briefcase, and began to work as though the rest of them weren't even in the room.

The next person to enter was a lawyer named Urimo, who represented the bank, visually as well as legally; he was one of the blandly unremarkable drone-types from the front room. With him came two men in security uniforms, each of whom carried one of the proverbial grey-metal safety deposit boxes, undoubtedly just removed from their accustomed places in a vault. One box was about the size of a two-slice toaster, the other a good five times greater in volume, and seemingly far heavier. The two guards carefully set the boxes down at the far end of the table, then stepped back and stood against the wall, flanking Urimo as he removed some documents from his briefcase and took a seat to wait.

Four relatives arrived as a group as Urimo and his two assistants were setting up, and Michiru eased Hotaru off her lap as she stood to greet the new arrivals, for at the front was her Uncle Amano. A tall and impressive gentleman in his middle fifties—if not quite so tall or as impressive as Benjamin—Amano's blue-black hair was tinged with a touch of distinguishing grey, a fitting mark for the head of the extended family. With him came his wife, Yuriko, every inch a respectable lady of wealth and status, and following the pair was their daughter Ogawa, a thirty-years-younger version of her mother, with the same long brown hair and dark blue eyes. She was beautiful, but with a cold, hard manner that intensified while her father returned Michiru's greeting.

Still leaning casually against the wall, Haruka gave Ogawa a smile and a wink, which only seemed to deepen the woman's icy demeanor.

Right after Ogawa came her older brother, Ohta, who had the same kind of close resemblance to their father that Ogawa had to their mother. The oldest of the assorted cousins, Ohta was accompanied by his own wife, Nina, and their five year-old daughter, Suzako, who had her father's and grandfather's green eyes and her mother's bright red hair, plus more freckles than anyone ChibiUsa or Hotaru had ever seen. She was also a very shy child, huddling close to her mother even as she murmured a brief hello to Michiru. Michiru considered that reaction for a moment and then turned.

"Hotaru-chan, aren't you going to come say hello to your cousin?"

Heads went up all around the room as Hotaru stepped out from between the vacant chair and ChibiUsa's. Ignoring the looks, she walked over in front of Michiru and waved cheerfully at the little redhead. "Hello."

"H-hello," Suzako replied hesitantly. "Are you... really my cousin?"

"Sort of," Hotaru replied. "Your father is Michiru's cousin, and she's my mother, so I think that makes us second cousins. The grown-ups will probably make a fuss about it, but they always do. Why don't we get out of their way?" And just like that, Hotaru spirited the younger girl off to one corner of the room, where in no time they were talking animatedly—if quietly—and giggling every so often. More than a few of Michiru's relatives looked at her, but no one said anything, least of all ChibiUsa, who watched the two girls and thought fondly of Saturn's army of child-followers in the 30th century.

It was another fifteen minutes before the last members of the family arrived. The first one to step through the door was a striking brunette of indeterminate middle age, with pale blue eyes that immediately reminded ChibiUsa of ice. Behind her came an older gentleman who had to be Amano's younger brother, but who was nonetheless much more visibly aged. Helping steady his steps was a young woman with the same blue-black hair, and eyes that were even more vividly green.

Michiru, ChibiUsa noticed, did not stand until her uncle entered the room. The older woman, her aunt, noticed it as well.

"Sho," Amano said, inclining his head. "I was beginning to worry."

"My daughter seemed to feel I might break if we drove too quickly or if she let me try to walk on my own," the younger brother replied, as he was helped to a chair.

"I offered to drive you, Dad," Kenta said.

"I wasn't in that much of a hurry," Sho replied dryly. Once seated, he turned to his youngest niece and nodded curtly. "Michiru."

"Uncle Sho," Michiru replied with a respectful bow. "Aunt Sumire." She did not bow quite as much, and Sumire did not respond as she sat down next to her husband; Michiru had already turned to the green-eyed young woman. "Nikki."

"Michiru," the young woman replied as she sat down next to her father. "Happy birthday." She was the first member of the family to say that.

"Thank you," Michiru said softly, smiling. She returned to her chair and gestured for Hotaru to come back. Once again drawing all eyes, Hotaru walked little Suzako to her mother before returning to Michiru and hopping up onto her lap again.

"Who is that?" Sho asked curiously.

"This is Tomoe Hotaru," Michiru replied. "Our foster-daughter."

"Since when?" Sumire demanded, her head turning sharply.

"Since a little under two years ago," Michiru said calmly. "Benjamin-san has all the forms on file, if you want to see them."

"I think we can forego that," Sho said, looking briefly at his wife, who nodded. Turning in his chair and looking past his daughter at ChibiUsa, Sho added, "And you, miss, are...?"

"Tsukino Usagi, sir," ChibiUsa replied with a courtly bow of her head. "A friend of the family. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Michiru's uncle actually smiled, and the expression made him look much younger. "Charmed, I'm sure," he murmured, and ChibiUsa believed that he was. Sho turned to the banker. "Shall we begin, then?"

Urimo looked at Amano, received a nod, and picked up a pen as he regarded the topmost of his small pile of papers. "Umiou Amano?"

"Present," Amano replied.

The banker made a check on the paper. "Umiou Sho?"

"Present," Sho responded.

Another check. "Kaioh Shinjubo?"

"Represented," Michiru said quietly. Urimo made another tick on his list, then named—and marked off—the six cousins, finishing with Michiru's name. The process reminded ChibiUsa of nothing so much as morning roll call at school, but she did not say this aloud.

"Monday, March 6th, 2000," Urimo noted, writing those words down on the paper below the list of names. "All parties named in the will have been confirmed present or represented; in the presence of said witnesses, item six of account #3302 may now be delivered and opened." He took a key from within his briefcase and inserted it into the lock on the front of the metal box to his left, but did not turn it; instead, the banker glanced at the man to his left, looked down at the deposit box, and then down the table to Michiru. The security guard nodded and picked up the larger of the two boxes, the very essence of the old phrase "handle with care" as he moved to the end of the table and set his burden down. Michiru thanked him gravely and slid Hotaru off her lap again before reaching out and turning the key. The key clicked and the top of the box popped up, after which Michiru released a slow breath before lifting the lid all the way back.

The safety deposit box held three things. One was a wooden jewelry box, square and perhaps a hand's length across, with beautiful carvings of leaves along the sides, a small blooming rose at the center of its lid, and a ring of thorns around the keyhole. The second item was actually a collection of over twenty books of the same style, diaries with worked silver bindings and locks. The final object, resting across the top of the box and one of the books, was an old envelope with Michiru's name written across it in elaborately-drawn kanji. A slight bulge in the middle of the envelope suggested the location of the key to the jewel box, which Michiru took out and set down on the table, looking up at her uncles questioningly.

"It belonged to your grandmother," Amano said, "as did the diaries."

"All this time I thought she'd left them to Shinjubo," Sho added, sharing a look with his brother.

The back of the envelope was merely folded shut, so Michiru had no trouble opening it. As she'd expected, the bulge inside the packet was a key, one bearing a rose and leaf pattern. Setting the key down next to the box, Michiru unfolded the almost thirteen year-old letter and began to read silently:

*Hello, Michiru.

As was my custom with these trust funds, I wrote this letter on your most recent birthday, so if you're reading these particular words, I must have died before you turned six. That may well mean that you don't have an altogether clear recollection of your old grandfather; if so, don't feel badly about it. It was my own fault that I didn't play a larger role in your life; I was too caught up in my recollections of the past and my practical plans for the future to enjoy the present. You can take a warning not to repeat that error as my first piece of advice to you, if you like.

You'll be a young lady of eighteen by now, and I have no doubt that you're every bit as lovely as your mother and your grandmother were in their own days. I saw both of those times, and speaking as a onetime lovestruck suitor, and as a more recent overprotective father, I hope you'll listen when I say not to take it too seriously when handsome young men compete for your attention, or when your parents chase them away and forbid you to see or speak to them. No matter how rational they might be otherwise, young men and parents alike will behave strangely when beautiful daughters are in attendance. The same can be said of those girls when their young men are present, although I suspect you'll have more sense than most. You have your mother's features just as she has her mother's, and I have met few people indeed with even half the good sense your grandmother possessed. Your mother is one of them, and I believe you will, in time, be another.

It is because of that resemblance that I decided to leave these things of your grandmother's to you, Michiru. They would have gone to your mother years ago, except that I simply could not bring myself to part with them at the time. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but your grandmother was taken from us far too soon, and there were days when the comfort of these familiar objects was something I needed badly. That is the blessed curse of a great love, granddaughter; for good or ill, it will follow you for the rest of your life, comforting you in your dark moments and robbing your bright moments of joy, if the one you love is not there with you. The thoughts on those pages gave me a measure of peace, and I hope that they will in turn provide you with some insight into the mind and manner of the grandmother you never knew.

As for the rosewood box, it was my wedding present to your grandmother, a safe place for a few small treasures and a private, tired old joke between us that she never ceased to smile at—for I, as you may not know, have been allergic to nearly all flowers since my earliest childhood. Inside the box, you will find the key to your grandmother's diaries and the old pen she used to write in them, as well as her favorite pair of earrings and a rather curious heirloom she received from her own grandmother many years ago. I am no poet, so I do not have the words to adequately describe it to you. I will say that of all her treasures, only her children and grandchildren were more precious to your grandmother than this object. You will understand why when you see it.

There is one last object in the box: a plain gold ring, which bears a tradition you should be aware of. My father was from Europe, and the women of his family wore this ring on their wedding days for more years than we now bother to count, passing it to the line of the eldest daughter in each generation—or to the wife of the eldest son, if no daughter existed or married, as was the case for both my father and myself. Your mother wore the ring at her own wedding, but returned it to your grandmother for safekeeping; now it comes to you. I hope that when the day comes that you have need of a wedding ring, you will remember our tradition and wear this one in memory and in honor of the many women before you who have worn it—but most especially the one who was my wife, and whose face, eyes, and very name you carry already.

Your grandfather, Koji.*

As she read the letter, Michiru felt a great sense of closeness and affection towards her grandfather, not to mention a certain amount of amusement over the contents of the second paragraph. The final lines, however, left her a little shaken.

Michiru had known for years that she was named for her grandmother—her mother had told her any number of times—but she had never once heard about this ring. It was not surprising, really; the most natural time for her parents to have mentioned it would have been before or during a wedding, and Michiru had only attended two weddings—her uncle Sho's marriage to Sumire, and her cousin Ohta's wedding to Nina—while her parents had been alive. On both occasions, Michiru had still been young enough to make her own future wedding seem a distant event indeed. Moreover, having been almost literally born knowing the person with whom she was destined to fall in love, Michiru had never felt the need to play the wedding-games some other little girls did. Her parents had never told her about the ring because nothing had ever made them feel a need to; there would be time enough later.

As surely as the rest of the letter had awoken Michiru's affections for the grandfather she only half-remembered, those last few lines had stirred up the old pain dwelling in her heart. There was so much that she still didn't know—about the world, about her own family, about big things and little ones—so much that she had never gotten a chance to ask or to say. For a moment, she was back on the shattered remains of that boat, a frightened fourteen year-old girl crying as she never had before or since because her mother was dying in her arms, all the while whispering for her to be brave, to be strong, to never forget that they loved her and were proud of her...

"Michiru?" a little girl's voice asked.

Michiru blinked and snapped out of the trance-like memory to look down at Hotaru. "Yes, Hotaru-chan?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Why..." Michiru fell silent as Hotaru reached up to touch her cheek. There was a damp feeling there, she realized, a single tear that had gotten through her normally unflappable composure. Blushing slightly, Michiru lightly wiped it away.

"I've never seen you cry before," Hotaru said, looking at the drop of moisture on the end of her finger wonderingly.

"There are a lot of things you've never seen her do, kid," Haruka said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Hotaru's shoulder. "That doesn't mean she can't do them." Haruka's tone was light, but her left hand was resting on the back of Michiru's chair, the fingers touching the top of her shoulder. The touch was both a gesture of support and a question.

"It was just a bit of a surprise in the letter," Michiru said, speaking as much for Haruka's benefit as for Hotaru's. "I'll be fine. Come on," she added, setting the letter down and holding her arms out for Hotaru to hop up again. "Help me open up the box."

Resuming her favorite seat, Hotaru picked up the key and proceeded to open the wooden box. Thirteen years of being shut up inside another box did not appear to have harmed it; the lock snicked open without trouble, and Hotaru raised the lid with no squeaky protests from the hinges. Once she had the lid up far enough to see what was inside, however, Hotaru's eyes widened, and she closed the box again.

"Hotaru?" ChibiUsa asked, blinking. "Is something wrong?"

"You... might say that," Hotaru replied squeakily. She reopened the box, this time flipping the lid all the way back.

As the letter had said, the box's cushioned interior held a small silver key, an old-fashioned wooden pen, a plain gold ring, and a pair of earrings. Each of these was a cluster of three small blue stones above three slender silver strings, at the ends of which hung bright white crystals that might even have been diamonds. The earrings were really quite beautiful, but it was the object nestled in the center of the box—the 'heirloom'—which captured everyone's attention.

It was a smooth globe of some perfectly clear crystal, roughly the size of a tennis ball. It appeared to be filled with water, and there, somehow suspended in the exact center, was a near-exact replica of the Phoenix Egg. The only differences were that this one had no shattered eggshell around it, and that its colors were those of water. The body was deep blue, the wings and plumage a mix of pale blues and sea greens, and traces of white lined the tiny sculpture like foam or frost.

Looking at the tiny crystal bird, Michiru could suddenly hear the ocean waves in her mind, the loud, crashing roar of the angry sea that she always heard when something dangerous was coming closer. As it often did, Haruka's voice came to her quite clearly through the noise of the rushing tide:

"The next time we run into our grey-haired friend, remind me to kick his ass."

As with most big cities, Tokyo did not shut down as the day progressed into night. In many ways, it became more awake. All the streetlights and neon signs came on. People who worked during the day went out to dinner and movies, while those that were employed in all the various night jobs got up, had their breakfasts, and drove to work. Stadiums and ballparks filled up for night games; museums and galleries hosted special exhibits; and hospitals, fire departments, and police stations were staffed round the clock.

The other creatures of the night added their own touches. Insects flew or crawled out of hiding in great numbers, to be snapped up by larger insects, web-spinning spiders, and the occasional nocturnal bird or beast. Cats and dogs prowled the back alleys and empty lots, and rodents scurried about in many locations. Otherworldly monsters appeared from time to time, followed close behind by supernatural warriors, and of course, there was a magically-engineered biomechanical mutant fungus lurking in the sewers, planning and plotting twenty-four/seven.

No, with all this going on, Tokyo definitely did NOT sleep at night. The regular abundance of nightlife might also explain why people tended not to notice out-of-the-ordinary occurrences unless they were glaringly obvious. Giant UFOs and mysterious towers appearing in the heart of downtown, for example.

So the general population could perhaps be forgiven for failing to see the thin beams of greenish energy that shot down from the roof of a certain skyscraper, traced the top of a low building next to it over the course of nearly a minute, and then winked out. It had happened twice before already that night, but all three times had been in different locations, well above street level, and the beams were not really very large.

When her Atlantean pager had completed its scan, the apprentice nodded in satisfaction. Done at last. And thank Heaven for buses.

Oh, certainly, spells of flight and teleportation *sounded* wonderful, until you considered the fact that flying would attract attention unless you were invisible. As for teleportation... the list of things that could go wrong with teleporting was as long as her arm, but the main reason she hadn't been able to use the teleport magic worked into her pager to get around was because she'd never been to any of her three destinations before.

She could have used a teleportation spell of her own, but there was a limit to the number of spells the human mind could retain at any one time, and the apprentice had devoted a large part of her own mental storage space to a series of other spells she wanted to cast tonight.

Archon had not gone into a great amount of detail about this operation—and why should he? After all, her part in it was simply to confirm the transport coordinates for the nexi, and that was done. From what her master HAD said, however, the girl understood that while there were going to be three nexi involved, the majority of the units would be dispatched to the most distant nexus in order to divert the Senshi away from the other two for as long as possible. Although they would be well hidden behind a number of skyscrapers and their own cloaking shields, the towers would have relatively few defenses once the Senshi tracked them down, as they undoubtedly would.

It had occurred to the apprentice that she could do something about the lack of defense, and studying her surroundings, she found a perfect means to that end. One of the nearby buildings had been constructed in a Gothic style, complete with stone gargoyles. It was the work of only a few moments to cast a spell of flight, and although not very suitable for crossing large expanses of open sky in secret, the magic worked admirably for this little task of urban renewal. The apprentice wove an intricate pattern of magic, recreating the web of spells that had created her daimon-empress a few days before, then copying the pattern twice. The completed magic took on the form of glowing grey orbs, which she directed into the bodies of the three nearest statues. Satisfied, the apprentice called on the magic of her pager and teleported back to her room.

Archon had said he expected her to make progress. Let him see it in action.

"Then what happened?" Minako asked eagerly.

The Senshi were sitting together in Michiru's living room again, all except for Rei, who was sitting on a chair in her own bedroom, watching and listening through one of Saturn's dimension doors. The training session that they should have been in the middle of—and which should likewise have turned into a birthday party for Michiru—had instead become an extended retelling of the afternoon's events, with a cake less than two hours from Makoto's oven being served all around.

"Well," ChibiUsa said, "you can imagine that we had to talk fast to cover for Haruka's little slip about Balance. I think we sort of managed to convince Michiru's relatives that Haruka was annoyed at some jeweler or antiquities dealer for selling the Phoenix Egg and lying about it being one of a kind. Something like that, any way."

"And they bought it?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," Michiru said. "My relatives mistrust me, and they would be just as likely to disbelieve the word of anyone with me, even if it wasn't such a hastily and obviously made-up story."

"I did the best I could," ChibiUsa complained. "You two were no help at all, and they wouldn't have believed Hotaru for an instant."

"Iph no my fau," Saturn said around a mouthful of cake.

"I'm not saying you did anything wrong, ChibiUsa," Michiru replied, "or that we could have done any better. It's simply that my relatives weren't going to accept any story we gave them." Michiru looked at Saturn and added, "And don't talk with your mouth full," before cutting off and eating a corner from her own slice of the cake. Almost immediately, she started smiling and making sounds of enjoyment.

"You were saying something?" Haruka asked.

"Huph," Michiru said, pointing a warning finger at Haruka while swallowing the mouthful of vanilla-frosted chocolate. "This is wonderful, Mako-chan."

"Thanks. It's nice to know that *some* people actually take the time to taste what they're eating." She glanced at Usagi and ChibiUsa, who were already well into their second pieces.

"Whe taphte it," Usagi protested. "It jupht taphte pho goomph, whe can't phtop eatingh."

"I'm not even going to try to make sense of that," Rei commented from her room.

"So what happened next?" Minako pressed.

"Nothing much," Haruka said with a shrug. "The suspicious glances kept up right until the end, but the bird didn't turn into a monster or do anything out of the ordinary, and the reading of the rest of the will was pretty routine. Up until Michiru offered to give back her mother's share of the inheritance, that is; I thought Sumire was going to spit in her face when she said that."

"Haruka." Michiru's expression was pained.

"Hey, she *did* look pretty pissed. Not that I can really blame her, I suppose; I mean, seventeen percent of half a billion yen *is* a lot of money."

There was a heavy silence. "Seventeen percent... half a *billion*...?" Minako repeated, a very pronounced tic going off in her right eye. She turned to Michiru, who was beginning to look distraught. "Your grandfather left you THAT much money?"

"That's what he left to her mother," Haruka corrected. "Half of the account was divided up between the old man's three kids, and the other half between his six grandchildren. Since she's her mother's legal heir, Michiru received that seventeen percent in addition to her own share. All told, she got about one hundred and twenty-six million yen out of the deal."

There was another, even heavier silence. Finally, Minako shook her head and rolled away the tic in her eyelid. "Well, that definitely outdoes the present *I* got for you—but at least there's no price on friendship. More cake, please, Mako-chan." Everybody looked at her. Minako looked back. "What?"

"You're not... intimidated by all that money?" Michiru asked.

"Or jealous?" Makoto added.

"It's just money." Once more, Minako looked around at them. "Are you telling me that when I'm a big idol, you're all going to stop being my friends just because I'm rich and famous, and you aren't?" Usagi's face turned blue as a piece of cake took a wrong turn on its way to her stomach.

"It's not a bad question," Rei admitted. "Of course, if anybody here is going to be famous, it'll be me."

"You?" Minako exclaimed. "Why would anybody idolize you?"

Usagi was thumping her chest and swallowing repeatedly. Finally, the lump in her throat changed course, allowing her to breathe. Nobody seemed to notice.

"Well," Rei said, with a flip of her hair, "I can write my own songs as well as sing them, can't I?"

"Are you saying I *can't*?"

"Ami could help you with lyrics, Mina-chan," Calypso offered.

"Calypso," Ami chided.

"Ha!" Rei laughed. "I could write *and* sing a song better than anything the two of you could put together."

"Now wait a minute," Ami added.

"Um, hello?" Usagi ventured. Nobody seemed to hear her.

"I hate to point out the obvious," Haruka said, even though she obviously intended to enjoy her next words, "but Michiru already has you beat in terms of fame, fortune, and musical talent."

"Haruka," Michiru scolded, her tone slightly different from the one Ami had used on Calypso.

"Ah, nobody takes that classical stuff seriously," Minako said with a dismissive wave.

"You said *what?*" Michiru asked, rounding on Minako with an amazed look that bordered on being insulted.

"Hello?" Usagi tried again. "Future queen of the world, here?" Again, nobody seemed to notice, even though this time she waved her hand. Luna and Artemis were already moving in to break up the argument, but Makoto—who normally would have been doing the same—was not, and neither were Saturn or ChibiUsa. The others only realized this when there was a yelp from ChibiUsa, the ringing sound of something metallic hitting something else, a streak of blue as Calypso shot across the room, and a violet-tinted blur as Saturn leapt up from her place on the couch to follow the Nereid.

Makoto had just fainted.

At about the point where Rei had tossed her head and egged Minako on, Makoto had experienced a very bizarre sensation which, for a moment, she had confused for both an itch in her neck and a wave of dizziness brought on by her empathic reception of the antagonistic emotions rising between Rei and Minako. When she tried to scratch the itch, her hand reached the Aegis, and the location of the annoying tingle sorted itself out in Makoto's mind as coming from—or more precisely, existing WITHIN—the orbs themselves. The realization that she could feel what the Aegis were exposed to, even if only dully, was a startling one, but Makoto didn't have a chance to dwell on it as the scrambling sensation in her head suddenly increased.

As Haruka stuck her and Michiru's oar into the argument, so to speak, Makoto's right hand—holding the blunted divider she had been using to cut and serve the cake—had been groping for the edge of the table. ChibiUsa, Saturn, and Setsuna had noticed the noise of the cutter scraping against the table and turned to look, whereas Calypso had picked up on Makoto's oddly disjointed thoughts and the unexpected activity of the Aegis. Being the closest of the four, ChibiUsa had set down her plate and started to ask Makoto if she was feeling all right; a moment later, as Makoto's eyes rolled back and her body went limp, ChibiUsa was frantically trying to catch the taller girl before she hit her head. The ringing had been the broad metal wedge falling from Makoto's hand and bouncing off the table.

"What the..." Haruka began.

"She just passed out," ChibiUsa said, laying Makoto down on the floor with some help from Saturn. Calypso tried to assist, only to withdraw with a flash of light, an electrical snap, and a brief exclamation consisting of whispery Nereid sounds and something in the musical Lunar tongue that might have been swearing.

"Caly?" Ami asked, blinking at her sister in surprise. "What happened?"

"The Aegis just bit me," Calypso complained, shaking her left hand and giving Makoto's green-tinted pink necklace an unfriendly look.

"She's not hurt," Saturn reported, kneeling next to Makoto and studying her closely with purple-glowing eyes. "The Aegis are doing something, but it's not strong enough to be dangerous. I think she's..."

Makoto's eyes opened. After taking in the three faces above her, she asked, "What happened?"

"You fainted," Saturn said.

"I don't faint."

"You didn't used to trip over your own feet all the time, either," Saturn replied.

"Right," Makoto said, closing her eyes for an annoyed moment. "Could somebody look out the window and tell me what the weather looks like?"

Usagi was still asking "Huh?" as Luna growled and made for the nearest window. Once she'd pulled back the curtains, the weather turned out to be pretty clear and normal, and Luna frowned.

"I don't see anything," she reported.

"In here, Luna," Rei said from the now-open door of her room. Luna hurried through the dimension door to join Rei, and—thanks to the greater elevation of Rei's shrine as opposed to Michiru's house—saw the problem almost immediately.

There was a large dim spot out in the middle of the city. Where the lights of hundreds of buildings should have been shining brightly, they were either flickering feebly or out entirely. It wasn't precisely a blackout or a brownout—some buildings had full light while others next to them were dark—and after a few moments of close observation, Luna was able to make a good guess as to the center of the phenomenon.

"Maybe it's just as well that we hadn't gotten around to training yet tonight," she noted, before ducking back through the dimension door to get the other girls up and moving. Rei was already transforming.

Proteus was not given to the human habit of swearing, but it was strongly considering growing a mouth and some vocal chords so it could take up the habit. Just *thinking* the curses did not seem to have much effect.

What was going on up there? The electric lines it had tapped into as a supplementary energy source were going crazy, and most of the communications lines were flickering on and off, on again and off again, reducing a normally comprehensible flow of computer, television, and phone signals to utter gibberish. The lights around the area it had taken over for its 'nest' were flickering in and out with the same sort of annoying regularity, and radio signals were getting overwhelmed by static, making contact with its distant rat- drones and its human subjects impossible.

The lights buzzed low again. With a resigned half-shake of what was almost a head, Proteus shut off its optics and waited for the storm—whatever its nature—to ride itself out. There really wasn't much else it could do.

Not everyone had Proteus's ability to calmly wait for resolution to the bizarre brownouts, or its inability to swear effectively. On a side street flanked by flickering streetlights and eerily-lit windows, the thick-bodied white car that had visited the park Friday evening was tearing along with screeching tires, roaring engine, and one pronounced profanity trailing in its wake.

"What do you MEAN, you can't connect with the lab?" the driver demanded, her rasping voice all the more grating for its angry tone.

"The problem isn't on this end." Her companion's voice, coming from the passenger side, was even more meek and servile—and afraid—than before. "If it was just interference, I could get through, but the signal keeps cutting out altogether. I think the systems at the lab are having the same problems as everything else hooked up to the city's electrical grid."

"The backup batteries had a full charge, didn't they?"

"Yes..."

"Then quit making excuses and start triangulating the source of all this!"

"The ENTIRE network is down?" Sciences said in disbelief.

"Maybe not 'down,' ma'am," the technician admitted over the phone. "Forty percent of the sensors are off-line, another fifty percent or so are hovering on the edge of failure, and the sections that still work are too widely-scattered to be of any help. And their status keeps jumping around. A cluster will be working one second, gone the next, and then back on a moment later."

Sciences sighed. "And this started out as such a nice day..."

"Ma'am?"

"Never mind. Are the portable scanners still working?"

"To some degree. There's a lot of electromagnetic interference, so their range is about a quarter of what it ought to be."

"That's better than nothing." There was a pause. "I can see a lot of browned—or blacked-out areas from up here. Are any of our other systems being affected by this disturbance?"

"Direct-line communications with facilities two through nine are sporadic or down entirely," the technician replied. "Security's still in contact with all their people via personal radio, although the interference is scrambling the signals. Their Director told me to pass on a report; the specimens housed in facilities four through seven all had to be destroyed to prevent their escape when the power to their cells failed."

"Good riddance," Sciences murmured. "What about the main facility?"

"Everything here's still functioning normally, ma'am. All our other stations have checked in and reported only minor difficulties, aside from widespread radio static, but Security has extra personnel on watch in the other specimen labs."

"Plus a small army in the streets, no doubt. Very well. I'll be down in a few minutes. Have any sensors that are still functioning begin a full-spectrum analysis of their surroundings, and route the findings to my office."

"Yes ma'am."

"And stop calling me that!"

The nexus stood revealed to the world, a tall green tower wreathed in a halo of crackling blue and yellow energy. A virtual thunderstorm raged at the structure's peak, bolts of lightning-intensity electricity surging back and forth between the many prongs, but in the open space between the spires and the zone of high-voltage destruction there stood a figure in armor, its arms crossed over the hilt of a downturned broadsword whose point rested on the top of the nexus. A tongue of lightning leapt from the heart of the nexus and licked over the armored form, the energy dissipating harmlessly against magical shields before it even touched the enspelled armor. Gleaming golden against the fury of the storm above him, Lord Mikhail Draco stood still and silent atop the mana nexus, waiting.

Many of his fellows in Atlantis did not hold a particularly high opinion of Draco's intellectual prowess, and he himself would be the first to admit that the basics of magecraft and scientific theory gave him a powerful headache, but this was due more to a lack of interest than a lack of any basic mental skills. Draco's talents lay in the direction of battle, both in personal duels and true warcraft. Tactics and strategy, the rules that governed warriors and armies, were well within his grasp, and they fired his imagination in a manner that no dusty old spellbook or technical journal could ever equal.

There were those among the Lords wiser and more brilliant than Draco, but none short of the Prince were his equal in military thinking, and only Cestus and a handful of others could match his fighting skills—and then only if he stood without his armor. Fully armed, Draco's only rival was the Imperial bodyguard, Talos, but then, the nigh-invincible black knight was devoted solely to the task of protecting the royal person from harm, a duty that would otherwise surely fall to the last Lord of House Draco. Ties of blood and ancient loyalty accounted for some of it, as did more personal commitment, but it was his oath as a Knight of the Order Aeterna that would truly compel Mikhail to take up the task if Talos did not exist. Since the beginning of the Empire, the Order's first duty had been to the Imperial Throne and its heirs, and as the most senior remaining member of that proud heritage, Lord Draco could allow no being of lesser skill to defend his Prince and Princess.

In that sense, Talos was the greatest ally the warrior could ask for, for the dark one's presence ensured the safety of the royal twins and enabled Lord Draco to venture out to battle.

For one of the few times in his life, however, Draco's feelings towards an imminent battle were curiously mixed. The prospect of facing opponents as skilled and as powerful as Senshi promised to make it a glorious contest, a trial of skill such as every true knight should face with joy and determination. That it came by Imperial command added the weight of duty, a charge to be borne proudly and with nothing less than total success.

And yet... to fight against Senshi...

In the dawn days of Atlantis, the Knights Aeterna had been granted their name by a powerful seer, who had foretold that the Empire would stand for ten times a thousand years and more, and that for all that time, the Order would stand by the Throne. They had been forever first among the warriors dedicated to the Empire, but the Senshi, who by the ancient records far predated the Empire, owed their allegiance to no master but humanity itself. There was an honor in that such as even the Knights Aeterna could not claim, no matter their rank or prowess. To be sure, individuals had fallen into darkness and dishonor, but the Senshi as a whole had never failed in their duty to the human race, and this new generation would not—could not—be any different. If they opposed Atlantis, it was because they believed that it was in the best interests of humanity to do so.

*And yet we ourselves are working towards that very same goal,* Draco mused. *The Rise of Atlantis and the survival of humanity are one and the same... if we could just speak with the Senshi, and make them understand...* The warrior sighed and chuckled ruefully. Not much chance of that, now, not after all these confrontations. And yet, a little hope was better than no hope at all. The Senshi were currently foes only due to circumstance and misunderstanding, both of which could be changed; blood was another matter. This mission was of vital importance, but it remained just one battle in a larger war, a war in which the Senshi would certainly play a part, perhaps even as allies to Atlantis -unless blood came between them.

A flash of red light some distance away from the nexus drew Draco's eye. They had arrived. There was an ancient battle cry—"Victory or death!"—which had always inspired Draco, but he understood that tonight, there must be victory and *life,* on both sides.

Shrugging back his long cape as he lifted his blade in his right hand, Lord Draco stepped off the edge of the nexus and soared down towards the battle.

_…_…_

SAILOR SAYS:

(Michiru's living room. Setsuna, Saturn, and ChibiUsa are sitting around the table, which Calypso is hovering above in the form of a chyetsa board. Behind them, Usagi is eating cake like there's no tomorrow.)

ChibiUsa: So let me get this straight: the soldiers can advance or attack one space in any direction; the knights can move up to three spaces, but can only attack at a range of one; and the wizards can only move one space at a time, but can attack out to three?

Calypso: *That's right. And don't forget...* (She pauses.) *Oh, I think we're on.*

(The three friends look at the camera, then at each other. Finally, ChibiUsa sighs and stands up.)

ChibiUsa: I'm not really sure if it's a moral, exactly, but there's a recurring theme in this episode about will, particularly in the sense of stubbornness. Makoto is pushing to overcome the problems of the Aegis, and they're pushing back at her; Usagi and Shingo push each other around; Michiru takes the suspicions and dislike of her relatives without complaint; and Rei and Minako start up another all-around clash of the egos.

Saturn: I think it's what's known as the Ranma Factor.

ChibiUsa: Hey, is this my narration or what?

Saturn: Oh, sorry. (Goes back to studying the floating gameboard.)

ChibiUsa: There have been any number of times in the past when our respective determination not to quit has saved our lives or the world, but there have also been just as many times when it's landed us in the middle of all sorts of trouble and misunderstanding that could have been avoided if we'd just sat down to talk rationally about our problems. Sheer persistence has its place, but it really works best in combination with other traits, not as the one and only solution to every single problem you encounter.

Calypso: *If this is going to be a discussion on rational thinking, shouldn't Setsuna or I be the one to do it?* (Saturn and ChibiUsa both give her annoyed looks, but ChibiUsa glances at Usagi, who is still stuffing herself on chocolate cake, and has to sigh. Setsuna pats her comfortingly on the back as the scene fades out.)

17/02/02 (Revised, 22/08/02)

From two weeks to two and a half months... *sigh*

I'd just like to extend a big thank you to all the readers, for being as patient as you have been in waiting around for this episode to come out. I've received a number of emails on the subject of the delay, and they have without exception been helpful and welcome.

Up next:
-Fight! Fight! Fight!