The sunlight pierced the darkness as Endymion stepped into the city of Juban. It was harsh and unrelenting, searing his eyes and forcing him to squint against the overwhelming brightness. Even the dark sunglasses did little to blunt the assault. The vivid colors assaulted his senses.
The blue of the sky was too sharp.
The green of the trees too brilliant.
The glare of the light was too harsh.
Everything felt like a chaotic mess, an overwhelming contrast to the familiar, dim shadows of the Dark Kingdom.
He inhaled slowly, the crisp air filling his lungs. Even with the taint of pollution, it was too clean, almost sterile compared to the dense, darkened atmosphere he was used to. The freshness stung, a biting sensation that made him dizzy. He exhaled, watching as his breath dissipated into the air, unnoticed by the world around him.
"So this is Juban."
The city ignored him, as pedestrians mindlessly darted to their destinations and cars flowed effortlessly. He flexed his hands, fingers curling and uncurling unconsciously. The sensation of the skin against his own fingertips still felt oddly disconnected. Almost a concept instead of an experience.
The shadows lingered at his feet, reluctant to let go, as though they yearned to keep him in the comfort of their embrace. They seemed to reach for him, pulling at his steps, urging him to stay where they could wrap him in familiar coldness. They were almost a presence of their own, living tendrils desperate not to release him into the alien light.
He rolled his hands, and something stirred deep beneath him. It was a faint vibration that traveled through the soles of his feet, resonating inside his bones, as if the ground itself recognized his presence.
Welcome, it sang.
For a moment, he paused, tilting his head as if listening for something just out of reach. The gentle hum became more pronounced, an echo of recognition he couldn't quite grasp, like a heartbeat syncing with his own. The sensation was oddly comforting, a welcome contrast to the emptiness that clung to him.
His fingers twitched, and he absently reached out, his hand brushing the leaves of a nearby shrub. The smooth surface caught at his skin, tugging slightly, his heart giving an involuntary leap. The softness, the vibrancy of life—it was wrong. He pulled his hand back sharply, as though burned, his jaw tightening against the warmth that had threatened to seep into him.
He shook his head, fighting against the confusing sensations. The earth's hum still rippled across his chest, whispering secrets he should acknowledge. The resonance caressed his skin, comforting, warming… it almost seemed familiar.
Almost.
But the feeling slipped away as quickly as it had come. A shadow passed over his mind, and the familiar cold reasserted itself, extinguishing that small spark. His jaw clenched, and he shook his head again, stronger this time, dispelling the strange impulse to listen to the call of the earth.
He had a mission. That was all that mattered.
"First, we follow the indications of the White Moon."
Endymion straightened, forcing his body to move with purpose. Each step he took was a battle against the vibrations under him, the earth that seemed to cling to him, urging him to acknowledge them. Begging him to remember what he'd forgotten. The shadows slithered behind him, echoing each footfall, wrapping his path in a dark whisper, as if trying to anchor him.
Amidst the overwhelming vibrancy, the bustling streets continued to feel abrasive, pressing in on him. The noise, the laughter, the colors—they were all wrong. Too alive, too untouched. Like a memory from someone else's life.
He squished his nose; the air carried with it the scent of blooming flowers and freshly baked bread. The sweet fragrances mingled, almost drowning him in their intensity. His hand moved toward a flower, fingers brushing the velvety petals before he caught himself again. The colors, the scent—it pulled at something in him that he refused to acknowledge. He much preferred the simplicity of the Dark Kingdom. There were no distractions there, no brightness to disturb the numbness inside.
"Let's complete this mission quickly and return."
A breeze rustled his hair, and with it came the distant sound of children's laughter. He turned to watch a little girl chasing a balloon, her face bright with joy. The sight stirred nothing in him. Joy, laughter, innocence—those were concepts that held no meaning to him, mere echoes of emotions long since severed.
He continued down the sidewalk, each step heavy, deliberate. Still, the earth pulsed softly, but the hum was distant now, drowned out by the mission in his mind. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the cool surfaces of the four stones.
Jadeite. Nephrite. Zoisite. Kunzite.
Their presence reminded him to stay focused. Continue with the plan to end the White Moon once and for all. The ache behind his left ribs pulsed subtly, but he ignored it. He had no use for feelings, only the clarity the darkness provided held any worth. The sunlight, the sound of laughter, the pull of the earth were all inconsequential.
He'd never been a part of this world, and he never would be.
"Focus. Find Princess Serenity, find the Silver Crystal. Eliminate any obstacles."
He took another breath, steadying himself as his senses adjusted. Even with the sunglasses, the light still hurt, the air still felt wrong, but it no longer disoriented him. His purpose oriented him, and he would not fail.
Without another glance at the vibrant life around him, Endymion moved forward, allowing the shadows within him to deepen, soften the assault from the light. The earth might still be humming, but it would never sing for him.
He was Endymion of the Dark Kingdom—born of darkness. And the mission was all that mattered.
He continued moving through the bustling streets, his gaze fixed ahead, the mission pulsing in his mind with unwavering clarity. The vivid mess of colors, laughter, and life blurred around him into indistinct shapes and sounds, nothing more than a backdrop. He moved with purpose, his steps mechanical, each one a beat of the invisible shadows guiding him forward.
He didn't notice the hurried footsteps until they collided.
The impact was sudden, a jolt sharp enough to pierce the surrounding haze. For a heartbeat, the world slowed, as if holding its breath. He stumbled a step, and he only dared to look at the intruder from the corner of his eye.
Instantly, he regretted it.
Golden hair glimmered in the harsh light. Smooth skin begged to be caressed. Everything about the girl seemed to glow, as though she were untouched by the darkness. There was something so achingly familiar in the way her presence seemed to cut through the fog around him. He continued on his way, leaving her whimpering on the sidewalk. Her voice was light and breathless, and for some reason, it clung to him, echoing in the cavern of his mind.
He almost stopped.
He almost turned back.
But the darkness flared.
His chest tightened, an invisible hand squeezing his heart, and the spot behind his ribs burned. The fire spread through his body like a shockwave. It was fleeting, barely noticeable, but it was there—a ripple in still water that refused to fade.
Who is she?
His feet continued automatically, fueled faster by the shadows nipping at his heels. But the warmth of her shoulder against him left a trail of sensation that lingered longer than it should have, like the imprint of a touch that had never been his to know.
The image of her golden hair and vivid blue eyes burned into his mind. It was nothing. Just a random girl. An insignificant encounter.
But the ache persisted, a subtle pulse that refused to fade.
He sucked in a breath, the air suddenly heavier, the noise sharper. Everything narrowed on the burning spot in his chest. All of it pierced through him in a way nothing else did. It was almost like waking up, like something pulling him to the surface, a light in the depths of a nightmare.
No. He shook his head violently, as if to banish the thought. She can't be the answer. She can't matter.
The darkness surged, coiling tighter around him, smothering the warmth before it could ignite. The shadows whispered, reminding him of who he was, the mission that held everything else at bay. They drowned out that golden light that threatened to make him see something he couldn't afford to.
"I'll find Princess Serenity and the Silver Crystal," he muttered to himself, his voice low and cold, "and I'll leave this wretched world behind."
He focused forward, trying to let his steps fall back into the familiar rhythm of shadow and purpose. But there was something about her—the echo of warmth still flickered at the edges of his chest. And for a fleeting, terrifying second, he feared he might have forgotten something important.
The walk to the arcade was over before Endymion even realized it, his feet moving automatically, driven by a mission that pulsed through him like a silent drumbeat. He stood before the sliding glass doors of the Crown Arcade, the darkness inside still shifting with the flicker of flashing screens. The air was filled with the subtle din of early morning—the hum of distant cars, the clinking of bicycles on the street, and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.
The arcade wasn't fully alive yet, the lights still dim, their colorful glow pulsing like faint heartbeats in the dark. As he watched the flashing lights dance in vibrant, sporadic patterns, casting neon reflections across the glass doors, something twisted inside him. He could feel it—there were signs of the White Moon here. The taint of their power, a light so sharp and relentless that it made his stomach twist with nausea.
The evidence of their presence seeped from the walls, their energy flowing like a hidden river beneath the foundation. His senses screamed at him, warning him, but he stayed rooted to the spot. This was where he would learn Sailor Moon's secrets, find the source of her power, and then—he'd kill her and the rest of her guardians, restoring the honor of the Dark Kingdom.
A sudden sound shattered his thoughts—a cheerful voice, familiar and irritatingly happy.
"Who's there?"
Endymion turned sharply, his expression cold as his gaze found a young man approaching along the sidewalk. His smile was wide, eyes crinkling in genuine warmth, the kind of openness that made something bitter rise in Endymion's throat. He wanted to slap that smile off his face.
"Oh! Mamoru!" the young man exclaimed, his face lighting up with relief. "Where did you vanish to? I was about to call the hospitals! You left without a word. The soccer team has been scrambling to find a good midfielder!"
The name hit him like a blade, cutting through the fog. Mamoru.
The word seemed to hang in the air, vibrating with meaning he couldn't grasp. It lodged in his mind, sharp and out of place. A flicker of something stirred—a momentary spark of recognition—and his chest tightened. The dull ache that lived behind his ribs flared, more insistent this time, as if begging for his attention.
He struggled to suppress it, forcing his expression to remain neutral. He narrowed his eyes, letting the darkness rise within him, letting it coil, cold and vicious, around his heart. "You must be mistaken," he said, voice low and dismissive. "I don't know you."
The smile faltered, confusion clouding Motoki's face. "Mamoru…?" he said again, uncertainty bleeding into his voice. He took a step closer, concern threading through his eyes. "It's me, Motoki. We're friends."
Hearing that name again—Mamoru—made something twist inside of Endymion, something raw and painful. The ache spread, gnawing at his core. The concern in Motoki's voice grated against his raw nerves, hinting at a life he couldn't remember, couldn't quite touch. He turned to face Motoki fully, the shadows in the early morning stretching and deepening, coiling tighter around him.
The shadows reached out, wrapping around Motoki like serpents, the darkness caressing the edges of his form. Endymion let the full weight of the Dark Kingdom seep into his voice, each word dripping with cold power. "I said you have the wrong person," he declared, his tone final. "I have business with this game center."
Motoki blinked, confusion giving way to something else as the darkness rolled over his body, seeping into his skin. His eyes grew vacant for a moment before he smiled again, this time more subdued, almost mechanical. "Oh, you mean you want the job? My uncle must have sent you."
Endymion gave a curt nod, barely listening to the nonsense spilling from Motoki's lips.
"Yes."
"Nice to meet you," Motoki said, stepping closer, still unaware of the danger. "My name's Motoki. I'm the owner's son, and I work part-time here. What's your name?"
Endymion felt a surge of irritation at the exuberance, the relentless cheer. He slipped his sunglasses off, his gaze sharpening, eyes piercing through the dim morning light. Endymion wrapped the darkness around himself, collected it in a powerful surge before launching it at Motoki. The bolt struck the young man right in the eyes.
"I'm Endo," Endymion said. "I'm your good friend Endo."
Motoki tilted his head, a flicker of recognition flashing in his gaze. "Say… haven't I seen you with Usagi before? I swear I've seen you two together."
The name hit him like a bolt of lightning. Usagi.
Something inside him jolted, an arrow shot straight into his heart. The darkness shifted violently, and the brightness of the morning world came crashing in—joyful, effervescent laughter, the soft golden glow of sunshine. He could see her, the flash of bright eyes, the shimmer of gold hair caught in the wind, and—
Usagi…
The name struck a cord, flashing brilliantly in the darkness. It was an arrow that went straight to his heart. The harsh world clattered against him, bombarding him with bright joy and effervescent laughter. But the darkness devoured it before anything could take root.
The darkness spread across Motoki's face, his expression softening, his eyes growing vacant. He smiled again, wider now, as though nothing were wrong at all. "Endo! My main man!" Motoki said, pulling Endymion into an embrace.
Endymion stiffened, his body rejecting the contact. He shrugged Motoki off roughly, glaring at the young man. Motoki didn't seem to notice; he just laughed lightly and turned back towards the arcade, prattling on about things that held no meaning.
They stepped inside, and the lights flickering on, and Endymion trailed behind as Motoki began preparing the arcade for opening. Endymion's gaze swept over the room, cold and calculating. He moved slowly, deliberately, his senses open to every lingering echo of energy, every pulse of power left behind by the White Moon.
It was everywhere. The influence of the White Moon permeated the walls, oozing out from the floor, singing through the lights and game machines. The very air seemed to vibrate with traces of Sailor Moon and her guardians. This place wasn't just a building—it was a nexus of their power, a stronghold hidden in plain sight.
The arcade felt wrong, buzzing with a kind of energy that made the shadows inside of him revolt. It was like walking through sunlight after an eternity in darkness.
Too bright.
Too vivid.
Motoki kept talking, his voice a distant, meaningless noise in the background. Endymion's focus remained sharp, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the name Mamoru from his mind. It was like a splinter, digging deeper with every moment, a reminder of something lost, something he couldn't afford to acknowledge.
Whoever Mamoru was, he didn't matter. Endymion clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus, to cling to the cold certainty of his mission.
He was Endymion of the Dark Kingdom. Mamoru was nothing.
"Focus," he muttered to himself, his voice a low whisper that was lost in the hum of machines.
The darkness coiled tighter around him, a shield against the overwhelming brightness of the arcade, against the memories that lurked at the edge of his consciousness.
Now that school was out, the arcade hummed with life. A cacophony of beeps, laughter, music, and flashing lights that grated against Endymion's nerves. He sat at the Sailor V game, feigning interest in Motoki's incessant chatter. He grimaced as a pulsing headache frayed his nerves. Soon he'd have to retreat to a dark room to recuperate.
Then the door chimed, a cheerful jingle that he was coming to hate.
But for some reason he looked up, anyway.
She was there, standing in the doorway.
Golden hair caught the sunlight, bouncing as the wind moved her hair. The sight cut him like a knife, and only the ever-present shadows held him in check. Something cracked open inside of him—a recognition, primal and profound, that made his breath catch.
His fingers twitched with the need to reach out for her. It was sudden and inexplicable. The pull tightened in his chest, raw and unfamiliar. Worse, the ache behind his ribs flared as if responding to her very presence. He leaned forward, the instinct to move closer overpowering the dark whispers urging him to keep his distance.
It felt right to reach out, to shield her, to be near her. The thought was irrational, powerful, and entirely against his will. It made no sense. She was nothing to him. She had to be nothing to him.
The trickle of cold started in the pit of his stomach. It spread down his legs and crept up his chest. It pressed against his heart and soothed his ragged breathing. Blessed relief followed swiftly, allowing him to suck in a breath.
Still, a voice, faint but insistent, whispered in the back of his mind, urging him to protect her, to keep her from harm. It was an instinct he couldn't quiet place, a yearning that contradicted the darkness. Further the darkness surged, wrapping around his mind, pulling him back.
Remember your mission, it cooed.
Focus on the mission, it whispered.
Yes, she was just a girl. A useless, annoying, scattered brain girl. The shadows twisted tighter, reminding him of who he was and what he was meant to do.
It didn't matter that the longer he stared at her, the harder it became to look away. The harder it became to not rush to her side and sweep her into his arms. If only he could feel her heart beat against his chest, everything would be okay.
He forced himself to look away, his jaw clenching as he buried the feelings deep inside. She was nothing. She had to be nothing.
And yet, every fiber of his being seemed to rebel against that thought. Endymion's gaze returned to her, and she too seemed reluctant to leave him. They were like two planets, rotating around each other, caught in the same gravitational pull.
It was undeniable. Instinctual. Something that defied his current state of mind, something forbidden and tantalizing, as though his body knew her before he did.
Without thinking, he stepped closer to her. Her direct gaze pulling him in, tempting him with desires and pleasures. It was like she was everything he lacked, everything that was just out of his reach. There was something else about her, a distinct scent of power and purity.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry. Every part of him wanted to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers, but the thought alone sent a ripple of discomfort through him. The shadows stung as they dug deeper into his flesh.
Don't forget, they sang.
"Usagi." Her name flowed smoothly from his lips.
Instead, he redirected that impulse, his hand shooting up to one of her buns, squeezing it just enough to make her jump.
"Sailor Moon," he said. Her eyes went wide. "She wears her hair in buns like this, too. Perhaps it's just in fashion."
Finally, the harsh lights of the arcade were pleasant. The once discordant music now sounded soft and pleasing. At last, the world made sense again. Those eyes locked onto his, flashing with something that went beyond this moment.
Through the contact, he sent the shadows towards her. They would do their job. They'd seep into her soul and she'd spill every one of her secrets.
She backed away a fraction of an inch.
"Usagi," Motoki said. "This is my good friend, Endo."
"Nice to meet you," Endymion smirked., relishing the look on her face.
"Endo?" she whimpered.
Perhaps his presence was affecting her, just like she was affecting him.
Then the urge was too strong. The desire too deep. While he couldn't sweep her into his arms, he could still touch her. He held out his hand, a polite gesture of kings and gods.
Usagi hesitated for a second, her eyes flicking to his face before she reached out. The moment their hands touched, it was like everything shifted. A warmth spread from her to him, radiating through his entire body, filling every inch of him. If Beryl's touch was stone. Usagi's was silk.
The ache behind his ribs flared, more intense than before, and it terrified him—the feeling that made him vulnerable, the inexplicable pull towards her. But the darkness was there, lurking at the edges. Licking at the connection between the two of them. If the ache flared, then the darkness burst.
A flood of shadows sprouted and flowed down his arm. And for some reason he couldn't fathom letting them infect her. It took great effort, but he forced himself to release her hand, and in that instant, everything crashed back.
The lights were too harsh.
The sounds were too bright.
The smells were too strong.
"I'm glad you're here. I hear you're good at the Sailor V game," he purred, coming closer to her. "Could you teach me how it's played?"
The darkness praised him for such an idea. Lure her in. Tempt her. Tease her. Because she smells like the White Moon. The edges of the shadows licked at the aura hovering around the girl. Perhaps, it said, perhaps she knows where Princess Serenity is.
When she stepped in close, when she leaned in, he almost lost his train of thought. Her presence was intoxicating. No—intoxicating was too small a word for her, for how she made him feel.
As he played the game, the shadows worked to determine the source of the scent. They burrowed into the machine, into the electronics. Endymion's lips twitched into a smile. While they discovered nothing obvious, the presence of the White Moon was too strong.
He was close.
The Dark Kingdom was close to discovering why this place reeked of that tainted power.
But before he could get more answers, a group of girls rushed into the arcade. Then she was gone, swept away by her friends. He didn't miss the suspicious glances and clipped phrases.
They considered him a threat.
As they should.
But with Usagi gone, everything seemed dull now, lifeless. But she was nothing. She meant nothing.
He was Endymion of the Dark Kingdom and he didn't need a worthless girl in his life.
Usagi would fall just like the others. She'd give him everything he wanted and more.