It seemed like the ceremony had passed in the blink of an eye. After the official appointment, the celebrations began immediately. Fireworks lit up the sky, bars were overflowing with revelers, and even the palace had organized a grand banquet in honor of their new General.
Yet despite everything, Endymion had rejected it all. He was the protagonist of the day, the man everyone was celebrating, but none of it seemed to matter to him. He wasn't in the mood for parties or festivities. If anything, he might have accepted the palace's invitation to the banquet, but the thought of seeingheragain was something he couldn't face just now.
So, sneaking away from the watchful eyes of his subordinates and the endless admirers, Endymion quietly slipped out, returning to his home early, unnoticed by anyone.
Endymion's home wasn't just any residence—it was a mansion located in one of the most exclusive areas of the city, perched high above the bustling streets of Crystal Tokyo. After countless heroic feats and his appointment as General, he had amassed a fortune, and with it came certain perks. The mansion had been offered to him as a gift for his services—an extravagant gift from the Empire—that he had accepted reluctantly.
The mansion itself was a modern marvel, with sleek glass walls and cutting-edge technology integrated into every corner. It was nestled among towering skyscrapers, with a breathtaking view of the city below. The exterior gleamed in the soft light of the night. But inside, it was strangely empty, almost hollow.
When he stepped inside, the echo of his footsteps was the only sound that greeted him. There were no grand furnishings, no lavish decorations. The rooms were vast, cold, and bare. It was as if the mansion was still unoccupied.
He moved through the empty halls and climbed the grand staircase, heading straight to the only room he ever really used—his bedroom. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the house, small and austere, with nothing more than a simple bed and a nightstand. The bed, neatly made, took up the majority of the room, and there were no personal touches, no signs of life or comfort. The only remarkable thing about the space was the large balcony that stretched out from his room, offering an uninterrupted view of the royal palace.
This was the sole reason he had agreed to live here. From this vantage point, he could see the castle—the place where she ruled.
Endymion walked over to the nightstand, where a small, sleek piece of technology rested. It was a tiny, disc-shaped device, barely the size of his palm. He picked it up and pressed a button, activating the hologram projector. In an instant, a glowing image flickered to life in front of him.
There she was—Serenity. The hologram captured her likeness perfectly, from the delicate curve of her lips to the radiant glow in her eyes. She stood as beautiful as ever, draped in her flowing gown, her long hair cascading down her back like a river of silver. But what held him captive were her eyes—those soft, deep eyes that, even in holographic form, seemed to look right through him.
This had become his routine. Every night, he would come home, activate the hologram, and watch her. He had no other life outside of this. The grandeur of the mansion, the accolades, the wealth—none of it mattered. All he had was this silent, one-sided connection to the woman who no longer recognized him.
He stood there, staring at the image of Serenity, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. She was so close, yet so impossibly distant.
His journey to this point had begun when he first woke up in the 30th century, wandering through the city in a daze, and fainting from the shock of seeing Neo Queen Serenity displayed on a massive screen.
When he regained consciousness, he found himself in a hospital, though it was nothing like the ones he remembered from the past. The sterile, white walls of traditional hospitals were gone, replaced by sleek, translucent surfaces that emitted a soft glow. The room was devoid of clutter, with floating, holographic monitors that displayed his vitals in midair. Instead of traditional medical equipment, there were robotic arms extending from the walls, their movements precise and fluid. Some were attending to other patients in the nearby pods, their metal fingers delicately administering treatments.
A nurse approached him, her face partially obscured by a transparent visor that projected data onto her eyes. "You're awake," she said with a soft, mechanical lilt to her voice. She wasn't alone. Two more nurses stood nearby, one a humanoid robot, its synthetic skin eerily lifelike, but its movements too exact to be human. Another robotic arm hovered near his bed, scanning him silently, while a floating droid adjusted the sterile environment, its smooth surface reflecting the lights of the machines surrounding him.
"You collapsed in the street," the nurse explained calmly. "It looks like you were dehydrated and in shock."
Mamoru Chiba blinked, trying to focus. His heart raced as reality settled 30th world around him felt alien. He sat up quickly, pulling at the thin medical blanket, his mind scrambling to find some sense of normalcy. And then, as if instinctively, his thoughts turned toher.
"I need to see the Queen," he blurted out, his voice strained with desperation. "Please, someone… I need to see her. Neo Queen Serenity."
The nurses exchanged uncertain glances. The robotic nurse remained expressionless, but the human one tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The Queen?" she repeated cautiously. "Why would you—"
"I know her. Ineedto see her," Mamoru insisted, his agitation growing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, attempting to stand, but his body was weak from the trauma. The nurses quickly stepped forward, restraining him with gentle but firm hands.
"Please calm down, sir," the humanoid nurse said in a soothing tone. "We can't allow you to leave yet. You've just recovered from severe shock."
Mamoru's heart pounded. "Ineedto see her!" he cried, panic lacing his words. "She knows me. I have to—"
The nurse, unfazed, interrupted him with a calm but unsettling observation. "There's something strange about your file," she said, tapping the holographic display floating beside his bed. "You have no identification chip, no biometric data in the system. It's like you don't exist. How is that possible?"
Mmaoru froze, realizing the gravity of his situation. No identification. No records. In this world, where everyone was traceable, he was a ghost. The nurses were beginning to regard him with suspicion.
"Whoareyou?" the nurse asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Mamoru hesitated. He didn't know how to explain. How could he tell them that he had just woken up in this century after what felt like a lifetime away? That he had been dead, or so he thought, and now found himself thrust into a future where nothing made sense? He didn't know if they would believe him—or worse, what they would do if they thought he was dangerous.
"I... I don't remember," he lied, trying to buy himself some time. But the panic in his chest was rising, and the truth was clawing at his throat. "Please, I just need to see her. I need to see the Queen. She'll know who I am."
The nurses exchanged uneasy glances, their suspicions deepening. Mamoru felt their mistrust growing, but all he could think about washer. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing himself to stand on unsteady legs.
"Ineedto contact her," he insisted, his voice more desperate now, as he stumbled forward, heading toward the door. "Someone—anyone—take me to the Queen!"
One of the nurses stepped in front of him, trying to block his path. "Sir, please—stay in bed," she said, her voice firm but anxious. "You're not well. We can't just—"
"I don't care!" Mamoru interrupted, brushing past her as he moved toward the door. "You don't understand. She knows me! Ihaveto see her!"
Just then, the door slid open, and a doctor entered the room, followed by two security officers. His calm demeanor was betrayed by the slight tension in his posture.
"Sir," the doctor began, "you need to stay where you are. You're not well, and we cannot let you leave."
Mamoru's heart pounded. He knew he couldn't wait any longer. He had to get out. He couldn't let them trap him here. Ignoring the doctor's warning, he took a step forward, his focus solely on the exit. The doctor's hand shot out, trying to block his way, but Mmaoru was quicker.
"Ihaveto see her," he insisted, and before anyone could react, he shoved the doctor aside, sending him stumbling back.
The room erupted into chaos. The nurses gasped, the security officers stepped forward, and one of the robotic arms immediately extended toward him.
"Restrain him!" the doctor barked.
Mamoru tried to push through, but he was still too weak. His body, not yet fully recovered from the shock, betrayed him. One of the security officers grabbed his arm, holding him back as the robotic arm moved swiftly toward him, its needle already extending. He struggled, but there was no strength left to fight.
Before he could protest, the needle pierced his skin, and within seconds, the sedative began to take effect. His vision blurred, the edges of the room dimming as the world around him tilted.
"No…" he whispered weakly, his body growing heavier. His legs gave out, and he collapsed back onto the bed.
In the haze of sedation, he could still hear them speaking in low voices just outside his room.
"He's a risk," one of them said. "No identification, no records. We have to treat him as a possible threat."
"He could be a spy, or part of an anti-monarchist group," another voice added. "We'll conduct an investigation. Call the authorities."
A cold dread filled Mamoru as the darkness pulled him under. They were going to arrest him. They thought he was a danger, and he would be locked away before he ever had the chance to see Usagi again.
Even as the sedative took full effect, one thought burned through his mind: he had to escape.
When Mamoru woke up, the world around him was sluggish and distorted. The sedative still weighed heavily on his limbs, but his mind—his mind was sharp. Too sharp. As the fog in his head cleared, panic set in. He could hear the quiet hum of the hospital room, the robotic attendants moving in the background, and the soft murmur of voices outside the door.
He was a prisoner here.
I need to get out,he thought. His body was weak, but his resolve was stronger. If they took him into custody, they might never let him go. And if he was locked away, how would he ever reach Usagi?
The room was filled with the quiet hum of machines, robotic arms moving smoothly as they tended to the other patients in their pods. There were no windows, no clear way out. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something—anything—that could help him escape. And then he saw it: a small maintenance hatch near the floor, barely noticeable, likely used for service droids to access the hospital's infrastructure.
It was a long shot, but it was his only chance.
With great effort, Mamoru swung his legs over the side of the bed, the sedative still weighing him down. He stumbled, grabbing the edge of the bed to steady himself. He forced his body to move, inching toward the hatch on unsteady legs. Every step felt like a battle, but he couldn't stop. His only thought was reaching Usagi, no matter what it took.
Mamoru dropped to his knees, fingers fumbling to pry open the hatch. It creaked open, revealing a narrow, dark tunnel beneath the floor. Without hesitation, he crawled inside, the space so tight he had to squeeze his body through. The tunnel was a claustrophobic maze of wires and mechanical parts, but it led him away from the hospital room—away from the surveillance, the doctors, and the security that would lock him up forever if they got the chance.
The cold metal walls of the tunnel pressed in on him as he crawled forward, the sound of his own breathing echoing in the confined space. His muscles ached, and his heart pounded, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Mamoru reached the end of the tunnel. He pushed open another small hatch and emerged in a quiet, dimly lit corridor—likely a service hallway used for deliveries. His legs wobbled as he stood, but he kept moving, his eyes scanning for any signs of danger.
The corridor was empty. For now.
Mamoru quickly made his way to the emergency exit at the end of the hall. Just as he reached the door, alarms blared throughout the hospital. His heart skipped a beat—they had discovered his escape. He pushed through the door, stumbling into the night air, the cool breeze a welcome relief against his flushed skin.
He looked around, his mind racing as he took in the glittering city of Crystal Tokyo. The tall, crystalline buildings towered above him, their smooth surfaces reflecting the lights of the floating platforms and hovercrafts that zoomed through the air. But Mamoru couldn't stop to marvel at the futuristic city. He had to hide.
As he moved deeper into the city, he noticed a small alley tucked between two towering buildings. There, behind a stack of crates and discarded machinery, he spotted an abandoned service droid. Its sleek, metallic frame was covered in grime, and next to it was a large storage bin. With no time to be picky, Mamoru rifled through the bin, his fingers grazing the edge of discarded clothing.
Luck was on his side. He pulled out a worn, tattered jacket and pants—simple, utilitarian work clothes, the kind of thing a mechanic or cargo loader would wear. They were a bit grimy and oversized, but they would help him blend in. Quickly, he stripped off the sterile hospital uniform and shoved it into the bin. The old clothes smelled faintly of oil and metal, but they were functional, and more importantly, inconspicuous.
After dressing, he tugged the jacket's hood low over his face, doing his best to cover his features.
Mamoru wandered the streets of Crystal Tokyo for what felt like hours, his heart pounding with every step. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to keep moving. His mind raced, the images of the hospital still fresh—his frantic escape, the alarms, the feeling of being hunted. The city itself was overwhelming, a futuristic maze of towering crystalline structures and glowing platforms that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky.
The lights of the floating screens flickered above him, casting his reflection back at him—a face now branded with the word "Fugitive" for all to see. His image was everywhere, plastered across every public display in the city. Panic rose in his chest as he tugged the hood of his jacket lower, ducking into the shadows of alleyways to avoid the curious stares of passersby. He couldn't stay here. He didn't belong in this world.
But where could he go?
He continued walking, his legs growing heavier with each step. The bright lights and pristine beauty of the city blurred together as he pushed forward, his thoughts consumed by one thing—Usagi.I have to find her,he thought.
The longer he walked, the more the city changed. The grand crystalline buildings gave way to something grittier, less polished. He found himself in a part of the city that was darker, more industrial. The air smelled of metal and oil, and the sound of machinery hummed in the distance. Mamoru looked up, realizing he had stumbled into an industrial sector.
Here, the towering structures weren't made of crystal but metal and rust. Massive freighter ships lined the landing docks, their sleek hulls gleaming under the industrial lights as they hovered above the ground, waiting to be loaded with cargo. Workers moved quickly between them, aided by robotic loaders that stacked crates of supplies with mechanical precision. The air was thick with the smell of fuel and the hum of engines preparing for takeoff. The flickering neon lights cast long shadows across the ground.
Mamoru had no idea how he had ended up here. He had been wandering the city aimlessly for hours, dodging security drones and the holographic screens that flashed his face as a fugitive. His legs were heavy with exhaustion, and the weight of his situation pressed on him with every step.
As he approached one of the landing docks, the low murmur of conversation caught his attention. Two workers stood near a large freighter spaceship, the metallic surface of the vessel reflecting the dull light of the industrial sector. The workers looked worn—clothes stained with oil and dirt, their faces lined with fatigue. Beside them, the robotic loaders continued their work, stacking crates onto the ship in perfect, silent unison.
"Heading to the outer colonies again?" one of the workers grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Yeah," the other replied with a shrug. "Ain't much work left here. Gotta go where the money is. No one asks too many questions out there."
Mamoru's ears perked up. He edged closer, staying hidden behind a stack of crates, straining to hear more.
"Outer colonies, huh?" the first worker said with a tired laugh. "Must be nice. I heard you can make good business there. No regulations, no rules."
The second worker chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Exactly. That's where the money is my Mikey. It's a free-for-all. You make your own way. No questions, no authorities breathing down your neck."
Mamoru's heart is it,he thought. A place where no one asked questions. A place where he could vanish, far from the watchful eyes of Crystal Tokyo's authorities. It was the perfect place to disappear and regroup.
The workers continued their conversation, talking about the cargo they were hauling—a shipment bound for a colony on the edge of the system, far beyond the reach of the central government. It sounded like the lawless frontier Mamoru needed, a place where he could blend in, figure out his next steps, and—above all—avoid being captured.
Mamoru waited for the right moment, watching as they loaded the final crates onto the freighter. His heart pounded in his chest, his body tensed, ready to move. The workers were finishing up, wiping their hands on their dirty pants as they prepared for takeoff.
"Last of it," one of them said, glancing at the cargo hold. "Let's get this thing in the air. We've got a long haul ahead."
The workers began to move away, leaving the cargo hold open and unattended for just a few moments. Mamoru took a deep breath, his pulse thudding in his ears. He couldn't afford to hesitate. This was his chance—his only chance.
Without a second thought, Mamoru darted out from behind the crates, keeping low as he moved toward the ship. His eyes scanned the area, making sure no one was watching. The massive cargo hold loomed ahead, the crates stacked high like a fortress of supplies. He slipped between them, his body tense with fear and adrenaline, barely making a sound.
Once inside, Mamoru crouched behind one of the larger containers, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He could hear the workers moving around outside, finishing the final preparations for departure. His muscles ached from the day's ordeal, and exhaustion tugged at him, but he forced himself to stay 've made it this far,he reminded a little further.
The engines roared to life, the floor beneath him vibrating as the ship prepared to leave the surface. The freighter began to rise, the hum of the engines growing louder as it lifted off from the landing dock. Mamoru's heart raced, but a sense of relief washed over him. He didn't know where the ship was headed, but it didn't matter. It was taking him away from Crystal Tokyo, away from the authorities hunting him—and one step closer to finding Usagi.
The cargo ship rumbled to life, the engines roaring as it lifted off from Crystal Tokyo, and Mamoru held his breath, heart pounding. He had done it. He had escaped. But as the ship soared into the darkness of space, a new problem dawned on him—how was he going to survive the journey?
The cargo hold was vast, filled with crates of supplies, but there was no food or water in sight. His stomach twisted with hunger, and his mouth felt dry. He rummaged through the crates around him, desperately searching for anything that might help him survive. After prying open a few, he finally struck gold—sealed packages of ration bars, likely meant for the crew. They were bland, but they would keep him alive.
As for water, he found a small storage tank used to refill the drinking stations onboard. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. He rationed what little he had, careful not to use too much at once.
The days stretched on, and Mamoru stayed hidden in the cargo hold, his body aching from the cramped space, his mind filled with thoughts of Usagi. He pictured her face—would she still recognize him?He had no doubt that once he reached her, everything would make sense. She would remember. She had to.
By the time the spaceship finally reached its destination, Mamoru was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but he had survived.
Mamoru waited, heart pounding, as the crew began to unload the crates. He stayed low, concealed behind the largest containers, his breath shallow as he watched them work. This was his chance. As soon as the last crate was offloaded, he would slip out, just like he had slipped in.
Finally, the moment came. The crew finished their work and moved on, leaving the cargo hold open for just a few minutes. Mamoru darted out, his legs stiff from the cramped conditions, and slipped out of the ship, moving quickly into the shadows.
The first thing that hit him was the noise. Unlike Crystal Tokyo's quiet hum of futuristic efficiency, this place was alive with chaotic energy. The air was thick with the sounds of machinery clanging, voices raised in argument, and the constant hum of activity.
As he stepped out into the open, Mamoru's eyes adjusted to the dim light. He had arrived in a place far removed from the polished beauty of Crystal Tokyo. The sky above was a dull gray, choked with smog and thick clouds that blocked out any natural light. The streets were narrow and crowded, lined with tall, jagged buildings made of rusting metal and grime-covered windows. Neon signs flickered in and out, casting an eerie glow over the scene.
This was no utopia. This was a lawless frontier—an asteroid colony namedScylla, as he overheard from passing conversations.
Here, there were no rules. It was a place where criminals, smugglers, and fugitives from all over the galaxy came to hide. Mamoru watched as rough-looking figures moved through the streets, their faces obscured by cloaks and masks. It was clear that no one wanted to be recognized here.
He blended into the shadows, keeping his head down as he navigated through the maze of streets. The buildings loomed high above him, their metal frames creaking in the wind, and the stench of fuel and decay clung to the air. His eyes darted from one side of the street to the other, taking in the sight of vendors selling illegal goods, black-market traders haggling over stolen technology, and mercenaries offering their services to the highest bidder.
Mamoru had spent weeks wandering the gritty streets of Scylla, adapting to the harsh, unregulated world of the colony. Every day, he found work in the docks or factories, lifting heavy crates, loading freighters, or moving equipment. Scylla wasn't like Crystal Tokyo—it was a place where laws were more suggestions than rules, and for someone like Mamoru, who didn't have a chip embedded in his wrist, it was the perfect place to stay under the radar.
In the colony's economy, almost everything ran on credits—virtual currency stored in those identity chips. People scanned their wrists to pay for everything: food, shelter, and supplies. Without a chip, Mamoru couldn't access basic services, but there were ways around it.
For people like him—ghosts in the system—there were employers who paid in physical currency, credits stored on small, unmarked data sticks. The black market thrived in Scylla, and workers like Mamoru could survive, as long as they didn't mind bending the rules. It wasn't a stable system, but it was enough to get by. Each week, he was paid in data sticks, which he could exchange for essentials in certain underground markets. These markets didn't care about formalities like chips or registration—they cared about cold, hard credits.
After a long shift one evening, Mamoru sat on a crate, wiping the sweat from his brow. His body ached from the non-stop labor, but at least it kept his mind busy. Jax, a gruff older man who worked alongside Mamoru, sat down next to him. "You're still here, huh?" he muttered. "Thought a kid like you would've run off by now."
Mamoru shrugged, his eyes scanning the bustling docks. "No point in running. Need to earn credits."
Jax nodded, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Yeah, but without a chip, you're stuck. How've you been getting by?"
Mamoru pulled out one of the small data sticks from his pocket, holding it up.
Jax chuckled, shaking his head. "Welcome to Scylla, kid. You'll learn quick—no one's got clean hands around here. As long as you keep your head down and your mouth shut, you'll get by."
Over the next few months, Mamoru worked tirelessly, saving every data stick he earned. The physical labor was grueling, but it allowed him to stay invisible. As long as he did his job and didn't draw attention to himself, no one asked questions. His co-workers were much the same—outcasts, criminals, or people just trying to survive on the outskirts of the galaxy.
He spent his nights in a rundown shelter in the colony's industrial sector, paying his rent with the sticks he earned. The room was small, with a single bed and a window that overlooked the chaotic streets below. The place was falling apart, but it was better than sleeping on the streets.
The longer Mamoru stayed in Scylla, the more he realized that his future was limited without a chip. He couldn't stay here forever, living off the fringes of society. If he wanted to get back to Usagi—no, Serenity—he needed a real identity.
It was during one of his shifts that Mamoru overheard a conversation that piqued his interest. A few workers were huddled together, talking in low voices.
"You hear about the guy who does chips?" one of them muttered. "Best in the business. Can make you disappear completely. Forge you a whole new identity. No questions asked."
Mamoru's pulse quickened. A new identity was exactly what he needed.
Another worker shook his head. "Yeah, but it's not cheap. You'd need a small fortune in credits to get something like that."
Mamoru didn't have a fortune, but he had been saving every data stick he could. Over the next few weeks, he worked longer hours, doing whatever jobs he could find, and slowly but surely, his credits piled up. He kept his head down and stayed out of trouble, but his focus was clear: he needed a chip.
One night, after work, Mamoru sat with a few of his co-workers in the dingy backroom of the docks. The place was far from luxurious, lit only by the flickering glow of an old holographic lamp suspended above them. The air was thick with the scent of oil, sweat, and the metallic tang of rust. Conversations drifted between the workers—mostly mundane talk about the day's jobs or the endless work still to come. The occasional low hum of cargo ships landing or taking off rumbled through the walls.
Mamoru sat in silence, his mind elsewhere, as the others chatted.
Jax leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigarette. "Y'know," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the stale air, "places like this ain't so bad once you get used to 'em."
Mamoru raised an eyebrow, not really agreeing, but he didn't respond.
Another worker, a wiry man named Aros, scoffed, leaning forward to grab a beer from the cooler at their feet. "Yeah, right. 'Not so bad,' he says. You ever heard of Crystal Tokyo? Nowthat'sa place you don't get tired of."
At the mention of Crystal Tokyo, Mamoru's attention sharpened, though he remained quiet.
Jax laughed, shaking his head. "Crystal Tokyo? You gotta be kidding me. Folks like us don't even get within a hundred clicks of a place like that. Hell, you'd probably get vaporized just for breathing wrong over there."
Aros shrugged, popping open his drink. "Yeah, but it wasn't always like that. You ever heard the stories? Back when Earth nearly got wiped out?"
Mamoru's heart skipped a it is,he thought.
Jax nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Yeah, I've heard 'em. Some say it was over a thousand years ago. Earth was on the brink of extinction. War tore the place apart. But no one's sure what exactly happened. Some big enemy showed up, wiped out nearly everyone."
Aros leaned in, eyes wide with the thrill of retelling old legends. "But there were these warriors, y'know? A bunch of women. People called them Sailor Scouts. They defended Earth. Heard they were powerful, but one by one, they fell. All except the Queen—Serenity. She was the last one standing. Somehow, she beat back whatever that enemy was, but it cost everything. Earth was practically dead by then."
Mamoru clenched his fists under the table, his heart heavy with faced that alone. I wasn't there.
Jax flicked the ash from his cigarette, his voice lowering. "After the war, Serenity didn't just fix Earth. She rebuilt the entire solar system. Some say she used magic, others say it was some secret tech from before the fall. But whatever she did, it worked. Earth came back. The whole system did. And now? She's the reason there's still peace. Crystal Tokyo is the crown jewel of that."
The weight of those words pressed down on Mamoru like a ton of bricks. Usagi—Serenity—had borne all of that on her shoulders. She had rebuilt everything from the ashes, while he... he hadn't even been there.
Aros snorted, taking another swig of beer. "Yeah, well, good luck to anyone trying to get into Crystal Tokyo now. The place is locked up tighter than a royal vault. You'd need a miracle just to step foot in that city."
Mamoru stared at the worn floor, his mind spinning.I need to get back to her,he thought, the resolution hardening in his chest. But how?
In the months that followed, Mamoru worked harder than ever. It didn't matter how brutal the labor was, or how long the hours stretched. Each shift hauling crates, loading ships, and moving supplies brought him closer to his goal: saving enough credits to buy a new identity.
The work was exhausting, and each day ended with Mamoru collapsing into the small, dingy shelter he called home.
After nearly a year of backbreaking labor, Mamoru finally had saved up enough credits. He carried the data sticks with him, each one representing the long days and sleepless nights he had endured. His target was Keiros, a forger who was known for crafting untraceable chips and fake identities.
Keiros' workshop was hidden deep within the maze of alleys in Scylla's black market district. It was a rough place. Rusting metal structures loomed overhead, and the flickering neon lights barely cut through the darkness. Keiros' workshop was no different, cluttered with old, broken tech and the hum of outdated machinery.
Mamoru stepped inside, his heart pounding with anticipation.
Keiros was a wiry man with sharp, constantly moving eyes. He didn't even look up from his holographic keyboard when Mamoru entered. "You got credits?" he asked, his voice a low, mechanical hum.
Mamoru nodded, pulling the small bag of data sticks from his jacket and placing them on the cluttered desk.
Keiros glanced at the bag, then at Mamoru. "What do you need, boy?"
"I need a chip. A new identity," Mamoru replied, keeping his voice steady.
Keiros leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. "That'll cost you."
"How much?" Mamoru asked, already knowing the answer wouldn't be cheap.
Keiros eyed him for a moment before giving a lazy shrug. "Around half a million."
"I've got it," Mamoru said confidently, pushing the bag toward him.
Keiros raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He grabbed one of the data sticks and plugged it into his system, watching the screen as the credits registered. After a few moments, he gave a satisfied nod. "You've got enough," he muttered, leaning back with a smirk. "So, what's the deal? Full clean slate, right?"
Mamoru took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I need a new identity. One that'll get me into Crystal Tokyo."
Keiros paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Mamoru more closely. "Crystal Tokyo?" he repeated, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Now that's a rare one. Most folks out here are looking to get away from there, not in. Why would you wanna go to a place like that?"
Mamoru's face remained impassive, his expression unreadable. "I have my reasons."
Keiros let out a low chuckle. "Sure, sure. Fine. I don't care about your reasons. As long as you've got the credits, I can make it happen." He tapped his fingers against the desk. "But you're not just buying a chip, you know. You're buying a whole new life. Clean history, background, the works." He leaned forward slightly. "So... what's the name gonna be?"
Mamoru hesitated. The nameMamoru Chibawas on the tip of his tongue, but something stopped isn't Usagi anymore... she's Serenity swallowed, his mind racing. If he was going to stand by her side again, he couldn't be the man from the past.
"Endymion," he said finally, the word feeling both foreign and familiar on his lips.
Keiros raised an amused eyebrow. "Endymion, huh? Going for something a little... aristocratic, are we? Want to get close enough to seduce the Queen?" He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "And what about a last name?"
Mamoru blinked, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought that far. "I... I don't know."
Keiros rolled his eyes and sighed. "If you're trying to get into Crystal Tokyo, you'll need a name that fits. Something fancy." He scratched his chin before smirking again. "How aboutAertheris? Has a nice ring to it."
Mamoru nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his decision. "Endymion Aertheris," he repeated, letting the name sink in.
Keiros wasted no time, his fingers flying over the holographic keyboard as he input the details. "Alright, I'll build you a backstory. Born in Crystal Tokyo... say, how many years ago?"
"Twenty-two," Mamoru replied after a brief hesitation.
Keiros nodded. "Alright, what about your background?"
Mamoru faltered for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Well..."
Keiros cut him off with a smirk. "Don't worry, I'll handle it. Let's say you graduated top of your class from some prestigious academy. That should get you through most gates, no problem."
Mamoru hesitated again, then added, "I was a fugitive... back on Earth. Can you erase that?"
Keiros shot him a knowing glance but didn't ask any more questions. His hands moved swiftly across the keyboard, coding a completely new identity, erasing every trace of Mamoru's past. The screen filled with complex data, histories, and records being fabricated in real time.
After a few tense minutes, Keiros turned the holographic projection toward Mamoru with a satisfied grin. "There you go," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You're now Endymion Aertheris, a fine, upstanding citizen of Crystal Tokyo. Clean as a whistle."
Mamoru stared at the new identity on the screen, feeling the weight of his decision settle over him like a heavy cloak. This was it.
Keiros reached for a sleek, silver device—the chip that would hold Mamoru's new identity. "Hold still," he said, moving toward Mamoru's wrist. "This'll sting for a second."
Mamoru braced himself as Keiros pressed the needle-like device into his skin. A sharp, brief pain shot through his arm as the chip embedded itself under his skin.
Keiros stepped back, admiring his work with a smug grin. "Congratulations, Endymion Aertheris, nice to do business with you."
Mamoru glanced down at his wrist, the chip now a permanent part of him. It was more than just a piece of tech—it was his key to reclaiming his past. His key to seeingUsagiagain.
Even after paying for his new identity, he had just enough credits to purchase a passage back to Earth.
After a few drinks and slipping a generous number of credits to the right person, Mamoru secured a spot on a ship. It was a small transport, loaded with goods destined for various black markets in the system. The smugglers didn't care who he was as long as he kept his head down and didn't cause trouble.
When the ship finally docked near Earth's orbit, Mamoru's heart raced. It had been years since he had seen the blue planet. The sight of it brought a wave of emotions—nostalgia, longing, and a deep sense of loss. But he had no time to dwell on those feelings. He disembarked quietly, blending into the flow of cargo and workers, his new identity protecting him from the authorities.
When he arrived, Crystal Tokyo was exactly as magnificent as he remembered—more so, even. The city gleamed with a surreal beauty, its crystalline towers catching the light in a mesmerizing dance of colors. The streets were wide, bustling with activity, and lined with massive holographic screens that broadcast news and entertainment from across the solar system.
With his new chip, Mamoru quickly secured a part-time job in one of the city's high-tech data hubs, managing digital archives. It wasn't much, but it paid the rent for his small apartment and gave him the chance to quietly start over. It was far from the splendor of the palace, but it provided him with enough anonymity to live quietly while he figured out his next move. The place was sparse, with barely enough space for a bed and a table, but it didn't matter. His thoughts were consumed by a single goal: finding Usagi.
Adapting to life in Crystal Tokyo was proving far more challenging than Mamoru had anticipated. The city itself was a marvel—an awe-inspiring utopia meticulously crafted from shimmering glass and crystal, where every corner gleamed with perfection. Flying cars zoomed effortlessly above pristine streets, holographic screens blinked to life on every surface, and a seamless healthcare system could perform miracles that seemed straight out of science fiction. But no matter how wondrous it all was, Mamoru felt like a relic, lost in time.
It wasn't just the technology that left him adrift, though every day felt like a test as he tried to navigate a world dominated by things like intergalactic travel and futuristic communication systems. There was something about the people themselves—different now in ways he couldn't quite define. Their jokes, their habits, even the way they carried themselves, exuded a confidence that came from growing up in this high-tech haven, a confidence that Mamoru couldn't easily fake. Though his forged identity granted him the credentials to exist here, fitting in was an entirely different challenge. He often found himself pausing mid-conversation, bewildered by the things people found normal—like casually planning a weekend getaway to a distant planet or interacting with robots as if they were old friends.
Each night, when the city finally quieted, Mamoru would sit by his small window and stare out at the mesmerizing world that now surrounded him. From his modest apartment, he could see the towering crystalline structures, glowing softly in the evening light, reflecting the twinkling of the flying vehicles above. The streets below were still bustling, even late into the night—drones hovered overhead, delivering packages to sleek penthouses, while robots moved with mechanical precision, tending to the parks or patrolling the sidewalks. The perfect harmony of it all was undeniable, but it left him feeling hollow.
It was in moments like these—when he saw the city thriving, its people perfectly integrated into a world that had advanced beyond recognition—that Mamoru felt the weight of time pressing down on him. The world had changed, yes, but so had he. And no matter how hard he tried to learn, to adjust, there was always a sense of being on the outside, looking in. Even with all the knowledge he'd gathered in Sylla, this was different. Crystal Tokyo wasn't just a city; it was a living, breathing entity that had grown without him.
Despite the overwhelming newness, one thing remained constant—his mission. His mind was spinning with the strange, glittering world of Crystal Tokyo, but his heart was tethered to the same thought it had been since the day he woke up here:Usagi.
One day, as he wandered through the streets, trying to learn more about the city, Mamoru found himself staring up at one of the enormous holographic screens. A news report was playing, showcasing a meeting between the Queen and several high-ranking military officials. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her—Usako, no,Serenity, standing tall and regal, dressed in the ceremonial robes of a monarch. Her once-blonde hair had turned an ethereal silver, and she wore the weight of her crown with grace.
His heart pounded as he watched the broadcast, the camera zooming in on her as she spoke to the military. Her voice was confident, strong, but there was something in her eyes that tugged at his soul. She wasn't the same girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago, but the essence of her—her spirit—was still there.
An idea struck him then. He noticed that many of the people in the room with her were military personnel. If he could get close to her through the military, perhaps... perhaps she would finally see him. Recognize him.
That night, he made the decision to apply to the Royal Military Academy.
Mamoru's application, backed by his fabricated background and top marks, was accepted without hesitation. The academy was rigorous, demanding nothing less than absolute excellence from its students. But for Mamoru, the physical challenges, the strict routines, and the relentless training were nothing compared to the mental discipline he had developed over the past two years.
In the Royal Military Academy, Mamoru—or Endymion, as he was now known—became somewhat of an enigma. He quickly stood out among the other cadets, not just for his towering height and strikingly handsome features, but for his sheer brilliance. His intelligence, particularly in the medical field, left many in awe. He grasped complex military strategies, futuristic technologies, and even managed to outshine some of his professors in understanding the latest advancements. It wasn't long before everyone was talking about him.
Whispers about "the genius from nowhere" filled the academy's corridors. He was smart, disciplined, and almost unnervingly perfect. This, of course, attracted attention—especially from the female cadets. Girls blushed whenever he passed by, and many tried to get close to him.
One afternoon, after a particularly long lecture on advanced nanotechnology, Endymion packed up his materials and slung his bag over his shoulder. As he turned to leave the classroom, he noticed a figure lingering by the door—Cadet Lyra, a slender young woman with auburn hair and wide green eyes. She was one of the brightest in their class.
She shifted nervously as she caught his eye, clearly trying to summon the courage to approach him. "Hey, Endymion," she called out, her voice a little too high-pitched in her nervousness.
He paused, glancing at her with polite curiosity. "Yes?"
Lyra took a deep breath, flashing him a bright smile. "I was just wondering if... I mean, some of us are heading to the city tonight for drinks. I thought maybe you'd want to come along? You know, unwind a little?"
Endymion's expression remained neutral, though internally, he sighed. He had already turned down more than a few offers like this. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture, but his focus was elsewhere—always elsewhere. His heart wasn't in the academy, the training, or the socializing. His heart was trapped in the past, or more specifically, with a future he was still desperately chasing.
"I appreciate the invitation," he said, keeping his tone calm and respectful. "But I have a lot of work to catch up on. Maybe another time."
Lyra's face fell slightly, but she quickly covered it with another smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Oh, I get it. Always the hard worker, huh? Well... if you ever change your mind, the offer's open."
He nodded curtly, not wanting to prolong the conversation. "Thank you."
As she turned to leave, he couldn't help but feel a small twinge of guilt. He hadn't meant to be cold, but the thought of spending time with his classmates felt... pointless. His mind was always somewhere else. Even in his medical studies—despite his passion for the subject—every discovery, every success, felt like a means to an end. Everything was a step toward Usagi.
He never saw their faces. Only hers.
The other cadets saw him as brilliant and disciplined, but in truth, he was haunted. The academy was nothing more than a tool, a vehicle to reach the one person he had longed for over the years.
As he left the classroom, walking down the quiet corridor, he could feel the eyes of his classmates on him. They admired him, perhaps even envied him, but they didn't understand. They couldn't possibly know the depth of his obsession, the unyielding ache in his chest that had driven him to this point.
Usagi. Always Usagi.
Though he was excelling in all of his classes, it was the medical field that truly called to him. In his previous life, before the great cataclysm, he had always dreamed of becoming a doctor. His parents had died when he was young, and that loss had ignited within him a deep desire to help others. Now, in this new life, he saw the opportunity not just to fulfill that dream, but to use it as a way to reconnect with the woman he had loved—and still loved—more than anything else.
Medicine, he realized, was his best path toward being noticed by the Queen. He threw himself into his studies with an almost obsessive intensity, mastering every new piece of technology and surgical technique that this era had to offer. His work in battlefield medicine quickly garnered attention, and his professors began to speak of him as a prodigy.
And then, the day of the gala arrived—the day when he would finally see her again.
He had planned everything so meticulously. His groundbreaking discovery, the neural interface that allowed injured soldiers to regain motor function, had caught the attention of the highest military ranks. He knew this would lead to a royal invitation. If he could create something significant enough, he thought, maybe she would come. Maybe she would finally see him.
As he stood in the ballroom, the grandeur of the event seemed to blur around him. His heart raced, anticipation coursing through his veins. The chandelier lights reflected off the crystal walls, casting shimmering patterns across the floor, but none of it mattered. His entire being was focused on the door, waiting for her to appear.
And then she entered.
Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of starlight, catching the soft glow of the ballroom lights with every subtle movement. It was almost surreal, the way her hair seemed to shimmer and dance, framing her pale, flawless face in a halo of light. Her eyes, a deep shade of violet, were both ethereal and piercing. Her nose was delicate, perfectly sculpted, giving her an air of regality that matched her title. Her lips, soft and full, were painted in a pale, rose shade that hinted at her tenderness. Yet they were set in a serene line, betraying no emotion.
Her gown, an otherworldly creation of purple and white, seemed to float around her like mist. It clung to her slender frame in all the right places, flowing down in layers of silk that shimmered as though woven from moonbeams. Her figure, tall and statuesque, was the embodiment of elegance, her posture perfect, her movements fluid like water.
He had seen her countless times on the screens that dotted Crystal Tokyo, but seeing her in person, after all these years... it was almost unbearable. She seemed so far away, so distant from the girl he once knew. And yet, there were moments—small gestures, a tilt of her head, a flicker of emotion in her eyes—that reminded him of the Usagi he had fallen in love with.
His heart pounded in his chest as she moved closer. He could feel the weight of every emotion, every memory flooding back to him. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Their eyes met briefly across the room, and for a split second, he thought he saw something—recognition? Hope?
But no. When she smiled at him, it was polite. Kind. Distant. As if he were just another stranger, another subject in her vast kingdom. That smile shattered him. It was as if she had no idea who he was, as if all the time they had spent together, all the love they had shared, had simply vanished from her memory.
Why? He looked the same. Hewasthe same. But maybe she was not.
Panic welled up inside him. What if she had forgotten him entirely? What if everything he had done, all the sacrifices, all the waiting, meant nothing because she no longer remembered him?
His hands began to tremble, and the room seemed to close in around him. General Arcturus led her toward him, smiling as though this was the proudest moment of his life. "Your Majesty, may I present one of our brightest students, Endymion."
Endymion. The name felt so foreign to him now, yet it was all he had to protect himself. He stood frozen as Serenity approached, her eyes meeting his once again. She extended her hand, that same gentle smile on her face, waiting for him to take it.
But he couldn't move. He couldn't speak. His throat tightened, and he felt his heart pounding against his chest like a war drum. He had been waiting for this moment for years, rehearsing what he would say, imagining how it would feel to finally be reunited with her. But now, standing before her, he couldn't even breathe.
Say something, he screamed at himself her who you are!
But the words wouldn't come. His mind went blank, and all he could do was stare at her hand, frozen in place.
The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating. Serenity's smile faltered, confusion clouding her eyes. And then, he saw it—that flicker of hurt, of rejection. She didn't understand. She thought he was refusing her.
The pain of it was too much to bear. Without thinking, without even realizing what he was doing, Mamoru—Endymion—turned on his heel and walked away.
He could feel the stares of everyone in the room, could hear General Arcturus's awkward laughter as he tried to smooth over the situation. But none of it mattered. He had to get out. He had to escape before the panic completely consumed him. His heart raced, and it felt like he couldn't breathe.
He had dreamed of this reunion for so long, but now that it had happened, it felt like his worst nightmare had come true.
As he pushed through the crowd and left the ballroom, his mind raced with a thousand questions. How could she not remember him? Perhaps it was just nerves, he reasoned. Maybe if he saw her again, in a different setting, he'd be able to speak, to tell her who he was. He convinced himself that if he could just get another chance, everything would be different.
For weeks, that thought consumed him. Endymion continued his studies and missions with unmatched focus, but the encounter with Usagi played on repeat in his mind.
After immersing himself completely in his studies, Endymion managed to graduate three years ahead of his peers—a remarkable achievement that left the academy buzzing. His graduation from the Royal Military Academy was nothing short of extraordinary. His classmates had cheered, celebrated his brilliance, and hailed him as a prodigy, but for Endymion, it was all just another step toward his ultimate goal: being near Usagi again. None of the accolades mattered if they didn't bring him closer to her.
From that moment, General Arcturus had taken him under his wing. The older man, a towering figure of authority and strength, saw something in Endymion—a rare blend of intelligence, discipline, and bravery. He had made him his protégé, guiding him through the labyrinth of military politics and offering him key missions that would not only advance his career but cement his place among the kingdom's elite.
It wasn't long before another opportunity arose. General Arcturus invited him to a briefing. It was a high-level strategic meeting, one attended by military leaders and, more importantly, the Queen herself.
Endymion could hardly believe his luck. This was it—the moment he had been waiting for. He convinced himself that it had just been the shock of seeing her again that had silenced him the first time. Now, he would be prepared.
The day of the meeting arrived, and Endymion could feel the tension in his chest, his heart racing as he entered the grand hall where the briefing would take place. The room was vast, its crystalline walls reflecting the soft glow of the afternoon sun. He stood among the most powerful people in the kingdom, but his focus was solely on her.
When Neo Queen Serenity stepped into the room, it was as if time itself held its breath. Draped in a flowing silver gown that shimmered like moonlight, she seemed to glide rather than walk, her presence commanding every gaze without effort. The delicate fabric cascaded around her, catching the light with each graceful step, and for a moment, the world seemed to still, awed by her ethereal beauty. Her silver hair, like spun stardust, framed her face in soft waves.
As she approached, Endymion's heart began to pound. This was it. She was walking toward him, her gaze falling briefly on his face. He steeled himself, determined to speak this time, to tell her who he really was.
But then, she smiled at him. That same warm, gracious smile she had given him before, as though he were a stranger. His throat tightened, and once again, he found himself unable to speak. His mouth opened, but no words came. It was as if some invisible force, stronger than any physical restraint, held him back.
"Endymion Aertheris" Serenity greeted him, "I'm pleased to see you again."
He could only nod, his body stiff as he tried to push through the paralysis that gripped him. His heart ached, watching her stand so close, and yet so impossibly far. She didn't remember him. She didn't know who he was. How could she not see it? How could she not feel it?
"Thank you, Your Majesty," General Arcturus interjected, sensing Endymion's silence. "He has proven himself invaluable to our forces. A true asset to the kingdom."
Serenity smiled again, nodding in acknowledgment. "I look forward to hearing more of your work," she said to Endymion, before turning to continue her conversation with Arcturus.
Endymion stood there, frozen in place, watching her as she moved away. His chest tightened, and once again, he felt that crushing weight of unspoken words. The realization hit him like a tidal wave—there was something keeping him from telling her, something far beyond his control. It wasn't just nerves. It was as though the universe itself was conspiring to keep him silent.
As the meeting continued, Endymion stayed standing in the background, his mind racing. This was no ordinary situation. There was a force, something powerful, that prevented him from revealing his identity. And it wasn't just in his mind—it was real.
The second rejection stung more than the first. She didn't recognize him. He wasn't Mamoru to her; he was just another officer, another face in the crowd. He had imagined this moment for so long, but now, faced with the reality that he couldn't break through whatever barrier was keeping him from her, he felt more lost than ever.
In the days that followed, Endymion tried to rationalize what had happened. He told himself it was temporary, that perhaps with time, he would find a way to break through. But deep down, he feared that whatever force was keeping them apart was far beyond his understanding—and far beyond his ability to overcome.
But despite the heartache, despite the silent agony that gnawed at him every time he saw her, Endymion made a decision. It didn't matter if she didn't know who he was. It didn't matter if the bond they once shared was erased, if she saw him as nothing more than a stranger. He couldn't abandon her now. He couldn't leave her side, not when the very kingdom she had built depended on strong protectors. Not when he had left her alone to fight on her own.
The force that kept him from speaking, from revealing his true identity, was powerful. But it wouldn't stop him from being near her. He would serve in silence if that was the only way. He would stand by her side just as he had done in the past.
Endymion's first missions were a far cry from anything he had imagined. He had prepared for battle, trained to face the dangers that came with being part of Earth's elite military force, but nothing could have truly prepared him for the reality of leading men and women into the vast unknown beyond their solar system. His early missions were like stepping into an alien dream—each one a blend of awe and terror. The stars, once distant and serene, became treacherous terrain as he navigated hostile territories, places where no human had ever set foot.
The Orion Invasion was the first major test of his abilities, a crisis that had caught Earth and the outer colonies completely off guard. Alien forces, aggressive and unknown, had launched a sudden and brutal attack on one of Earth's furthest colonies. The enemies were unlike anything Endymion had ever seen—biomechanical war machines that moved with the precision of both mind and metal. The sheer scale of destruction they wrought was staggering, wiping out entire fleets in minutes.
Endymion had been called to the frontlines, still fresh from the academy, with a fleet under his command that wasn't prepared for the kind of war they found themselves in. Yet, even in the face of such overwhelming odds, he remained calm, his mind racing for a solution. As his ship trembled under enemy fire, he spotted a cluster of asteroids nearby. An idea sparked—risky, but their only chance. He ordered his fleet to lure the enemy closer, using the gravitational pull of the asteroid field to trap their ships. It was a move no one had expected. The maneuver crushed the invading force, the heavy asteroids pulling their ships into an inescapable gravitational pull. They were destroyed in a matter of minutes. The battle was over, and Endymion had saved not only his fleet but countless lives on the colony below.
The aftermath was surreal—his name spread across the military channels like wildfire. His calm under pressure, his ability to think several steps ahead of everyone else, had earned him admiration throughout the ranks. But Endymion felt detached from the glory that followed. He had led soldiers into battle, watched them fight for their lives, and though they had won, the cost of those lost weighed heavily on him. And even though he was celebrated, deep down, the only victory that mattered to him was the one that would bring him closer to Usagi. After every skirmish, his mind would drift to her—her face, her voice, her presence. The thought of her was the only thing that anchored him through the chaos of war.
But the universe wasn't finished testing him. Just as he thought he would have time to recover, the Kuiper Belt Crisis erupted. It wasn't a battle of guns and spaceships this time, but a high-stakes political nightmare. A rogue faction of mercenaries had taken a group of ambassadors hostage, demanding outrageous ransoms and threatening to destabilize the fragile peace that had been carefully maintained between Earth and the neighboring systems.
The military's first response was typical—storm the base, take out the mercenaries, and retrieve the hostages by force. But Endymion, who had now earned enough respect to offer alternatives, disagreed. He knew that a violent assault would only result in casualties—diplomatic officials would be the first to be killed if things went wrong. So, he chose to lead the negotiations himself, much to the surprise of his superiors.
Stepping into the mercenaries' den, a dark, cold outpost in the depths of the Kuiper Belt, was unlike anything he had ever done. Surrounded by armed criminals, every move he made was scrutinized. His life hung in the balance, but his voice never wavered. He spoke with authority, promising safe passage, making deals that played on their greed and fear. Hours passed, the tension unbearable, but Endymion never faltered. Slowly, he dismantled the situation, earning their reluctant trust until, finally, the hostages were released. Not a single shot was fired. Not a single life was lost.
Word of the Kuiper Belt negotiations spread quickly, and Endymion's reputation only grew. He became known not just as a brilliant tactician, but as a diplomat, a man who could think his way out of even the most impossible situations. General Arcturus, his mentor, had been quick to push him into more prominent roles, placing him at the forefront of Earth's most delicate operations.
But through it all, Endymion's heart remained tethered to her. Even in the most alien of landscapes—under the strange light of distant suns, surrounded by creatures and people he had never imagined—his thoughts always returned to her. The battles, the victories, the recognition—none of it mattered if it didn't bring him closer to her. Each success felt hollow, like a step forward that somehow also took him farther from the one thing he wanted most.
Despite all the recognition, Endymion remained distant from his peers. His fellow soldiers celebrated him, raised toasts in his honor, and tried to bring him into their fold, but he kept himself apart. They saw him as a hero, a man who could do no wrong, but he saw himself as a man chasing a dream that was slipping through his fingers.
He had vowed, long ago, that he would protect her, even if she never recognized him, even if she never knew who he was. That promise was the only thing that kept him going, the only thing that gave his life meaning. He would guard her from the shadows, ensure her safety from every threat, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness. And so, with every mission completed, every battle won, Endymion took one step closer to the woman who still held his heart in her hands.
"General," Endymion had once asked Arcturus during a quiet afternoon in his mentor's office, his tone calm but with an intensity that conveyed the weight behind his words. "If I may request something?"
Arcturus, seated behind a large, ornate desk, looked up from the holoscreens he had been reviewing. The older man's sharp, knowing gaze landed on Endymion, and he raised an eyebrow with curiosity. "What is it, Endymion?"
"I would like to be present at more of the council meetings," Endymion said, his voice respectful but resolute. "I believe my insight could be valuable—especially on matters concerning the defense of the Empire."
The room fell into a brief silence, only interrupted by the soft flicker of a lamp. Arcturus chuckled, a deep, warm sound that was both amused and approving. "Concerned about the Empire's safety, are you? A noble sentiment. Very well, Endymion. I'll make sure you're included in more of these meetings. You've earned it."
Endymion gave a slight bow, hiding the relief that washed over him. "Thank you, General."
And so it began. He attended council meetings, sitting among the Empire's elite, often positioned just a few steps behind Neo Queen Serenity herself. He kept his eyes averted, refusing to let himself be drawn into her presence any more than was necessary. He couldn't afford to get lost in her eyes, not when the urge to tell her everything—to fall to his knees and beg her to remember him—threatened to consume him every time he was near her. It was torture, but it was a necessary one. He had to remain calm, composed, and focused, despite the constant storm brewing inside him.
Every moment in her presence was agony, and yet, he wanted nothing more than to be close to her, to feel her warmth again. Each bow, each respectful address he offered her, cut him deeply. He could see the distance in her eyes, the polite warmth she offered to everyone. But he wanted more—needed more. He longed to call her Usagi again, to tell her the truth of who he was. Yet, no matter how many times he wanted to scream it, the words remained trapped within him. And so he remained silent, keeping his emotions buried beneath the heavy armor of duty.
One of the most critical moments of Endymion's rise through the ranks came during the crisis on one of Jupiter's moons. A rogue anti-monarchist group called The Legion had gained control of a nuclear device—an attack initially framed as a protest against Neo Queen Serenity's reign. But beneath their public rhetoric lay a far darker agenda.
Unbeknownst to many, The Legion had formed a clandestine alliance with a powerful race from a distant galaxy—theZyraxians. The Zyraxians were known for their aggression and thirst for conquest. Their empire, which spanned several galaxies, was bent on expanding into new territories, and Earth's solar system, with its burgeoning colonies and resources, was the perfect target. The Zyraxians viewed Earth and Crystal Tokyo as the greatest obstacle to their plans of intergalactic domination, and they had found the perfect pawns in The Legion.
The Legion's true goal was to pave the way for the Zyraxians to invade—first, by weakening Crystal Tokyo's influence over the outer colonies, and then by striking at the heart of the Empire itself. Their attack on Jupiter's moons was meant to be the first domino in a much larger galactic conflict, one that would see the Zyraxians take control of Earth's territory, while The Legion established themselves as rulers of the outer colonies.
Endymion had been called to lead the mission to stop them. The stakes couldn't have been higher; millions of lives were on the line, and the future of the Neo Silver Millennium hung in the balance. The Zyraxian-modified nuclear device was primed to detonate, and the fallout would devastate not only the colonies around Jupiter but also destabilize the entire solar system.
The mission itself was perilous. Endymion led his team with laser-focused determination, navigating treacherous terrain and outmaneuvering the rogue faction with tactical brilliance. The Zyraxians had equipped The Legion with advanced shields and cloaking devices, making their base on Jupiter's moon nearly impossible to detect. But Endymion's keen intellect, honed through countless battles, allowed him to predict their every move. He used the gravitational pull of a nearby asteroid field to hide his fleet and launch a surprise attack, disarming the Zyraxian-enhanced weapon and neutralizing the threat before the Legion could carry out their plan.
The operation had been brutal, but his leadership saved millions of lives and averted what would have been a catastrophic galactic war. His success earned him widespread admiration and solidified his reputation as a military genius.
Each mission brought a sense of fulfillment—he genuinely took pride in helping those living in the colonies, in saving lives and bringing peace to distant, war-torn regions. The gratitude of the people he helped filled him with purpose, and in those moments, he felt like he was making a difference. But beneath that fulfillment, there was always a shadow, a lingering guilt that he couldn't shake.
For every life he saved, he was reminded of the time when he wasn't there. The cataclysm that had nearly destroyed Earth—when the world needed him most, whensheneeded him most—he hadn't been there. The weight of that failure pressed down on him, overshadowing every accomplishment. He hadn't been able to protect Usagi during the darkest moment of her life, when she stood alone against an unimaginable foe. She had borne the brunt of that devastation, faced the loss of billions, and rebuilt the world without him.
Every time Endymion succeeded, every accolade and promotion, it felt hollow compared to the crushing weight of that singular failure. Yes, he had saved lives now. Yes, he had done good. But in his heart, it wasn't enough to erase the fact that when Earth was on the brink of destruction, when Usagi was fighting for the survival of the planet, he hadn't been by her side.
Endymion found himself replaying the same horrific thoughts over and over—images of Usagi, vulnerable and afraid, standing alone against the forces that had threatened to annihilate everything. He could only imagine the pain she must have felt, the devastation. And where had he been? Where hadhebeen while she suffered through unimaginable loss, while she stood against the darkness with nothing but her inner strength to guide her?
It was this guilt that drove him harder, that made him throw himself into every mission, every battle, as if by saving others now, he could somehow make up for all the time lost.
By the time General Arcturus passed away, there was no question as to who would succeed him. But his loss hit him harder than he had expected. Arcturus hadn't just been a superior officer—he had been a mentor and perhaps the only person who had ever truly believed in Endymion, even when Endymion struggled to believe in himself.
His rise to power had been swift and undeniable. The council had unanimously supported his appointment, and soon, Endymion found himself in the very seat where his mentor had once sat. He had power, prestige, and admiration from all corners of the galaxy. Yet, none of it mattered. None of it could fill the void left by the woman who had once known his heart but now saw him as a stranger.
After all those years, the first time he truly looked into her eyes again had been at the ceremony where they made him General. He knelt, head bowed, his voice steady as he spoke the sacred words. "...and above all, I vow to protect my Queen." But for Endymion, the words were far more than a mere formality. In that moment, as he lifted his gaze ever so slightly, their eyes met. And in that brief, fleeting glance, he poured everything into it—all the love, the promises, the silent vows he'd held for so long. He wanted her to see it, to feel how deeply he meant those words. He would do anything for her, give his life if necessary. Protecting her wasn't just his duty—it was his soul's purpose.
But now, hours after the grandeur of the ceremony had faded, Endymion sat alone in his dimly lit room, surrounded by the hollow emptiness of his mansion. The place was still barren, save for this one private corner where he sought comfort every night. In this solitude, there was one thing that offered him solace: a hologram of Serenity, flickering softly before him. The woman he loved more than life itself.
The image was delicate, an incredibly rare model he had spent months, nearly a year, tracking down through old connections and black-market the distant and formal figure he had glimpsed earlier at the ceremony, this version smiled warmly at him. Her eyes sparkled with the same brightness they used to, back when she was just Usagi. Here, in the quiet of his room, with only this hologram to keep him company, he could pretend. He could imagine, just for a little while, that she still remembered him, that she still loved him.
It was a fragile comfort, but in this isolated existence, it was all he had left.
The soft glow of the hologram bathed the dark room, casting a warm, gentle light over him as Serenity's image gazed back. Endymion found himself studying her face with painful longing. Every curve of her features, the way her silver-white hair now framed her, the way her lips curled in that familiar smile—it all struck him with a bittersweet ache. In this projection, there was no trace of the kind but composed queen. Here, she was stillUsako, his Usagi. The smile, the twinkle in her eyes—it was as if she were looking right at him, just as she had so many times before.
His heart tightened as he reached out, fingertips brushing against the edge of the holographic image. It wasn't real, and yet it was the only part of her he had left. It was a dream he could never fully grasp, but one he wasn't willing to let go of either.
Suddenly, his reverie was interrupted by the sharp buzz of an incoming message. A holographic screen flickered to life beside him, and Endymion frowned. He wasn't expecting any calls. Hesitantly, he tapped the screen to answer, and the familiar face of Martin Ashford, the head of the Imperial Parliament, appeared before him.
"Endymion Aertheris," Martin greeted with his usual sharp tone, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Or should I say, General Endymion Aertheris? Congratulations on your promotion. Though I must say, we were all rather disappointed you didn't stay for the banquet thatIworked so hard to arrange formonths." His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Endymion shifted uncomfortably, keeping his tone respectful. "My apologies, Sir. I didn't mean to cause any offense."
Martin waved it off with a casual flick of his hand. "Oh, don't worry about it. I understand you've got more important things on your mind, like celebrating your new .In... your room?. You must be thelifeof the party. Anyway, I just wanted to inform you about the next step in your duties, now that you're officially our new General."
Endymion nodded, though his heart sank as Martin continued.
"As per tradition, the newly appointed General must meet with the Queen to discuss matters of state," Martin said, eyeing Endymion carefully. "And that meeting will take place tomorrow."
The news hit Endymion like a wave of ice. "Tomorrow?" he echoed, trying to keep his voice steady. "At the palace, I assume?"
Martin's grin widened, almost enjoying Endymion's discomfort. "Ah, no, General. Her Majesty insists on meeting you... at your residence."
Endymion froze. Hisresidence?Why on Earth would the Queen come here? His mind raced, glancing around his sparse room.
"My... my house?" he stammered, trying to hide his panic. "Surely the palace would be more appropriate for such a meeting—"
Martin cut him off, his grin growing even wider. "Her Majesty wants to seeyouatyourhouse, General. And you wouldn't want to refuse a direct request from the Queen now, would you?"
Endymion clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay calm. "Of course not. It would be an honor." But inside, his mind was racing with dread.
Martin chuckled, clearly amused by Endymion's reaction. "Excellent. She'll arrive tomorrow afternoon. Be ready." And with that, the call ended abruptly, leaving Endymion standing there in stunned silence, mid-sentence, his heart racing.
The Queen. . She was coming here, to his empty mansion. The thought sent a wave of panic through him. He couldn't let her see it like this—bare, hollow, not a single piece of furniture to make it feel remotely like a home. No table, no sofa. Not even a chair. Nothing.
When he was awarded this mansion, he hadn't even bothered to furnish or decorate it. What was the point? He never had visitors, no friends. He lived for his work. This place was just somewhere to crash, sleep, and watch his hologram. That was it.
How could he possibly receive her in a place that felt so empty? What wouldshethink of him?
Frantic, Endymion grabbed his comms device and quickly dialed one of his most trusted subordinates, Sergeant Orin. The sergeant's face appeared promptly on the holographic screen, wide-eyed and eager as always, his short chestnut hair slightly tousled. "General! How can I assist you, Sir?" he asked, his tone filled with admiration, clearly honored to be called upon by Endymion himself.
Endymion didn't waste any time with pleasantries. "Orin, I have a mission for you."
"Of course, sir. What do you need?" The sergeant's voice was eager, always ready to serve.
"Furniture," Endymion said quickly, pacing the room.
"F-furniture, sir?" Orin stammered, clearly confused. "For what, exactly?"
"For my house," Endymion replied, growing more frustrated by the second.
Orin blinked, his confusion evident. "Your... house, General?"
"Yes!" Endymion's voice grew more urgent. "And not just furniture. Banquet service, flowers, lamps—we need light! Cushions? Maybe even a fountain for the garden. Everything! Anything you can think of. Orin, spare no expense. Charge it to my personal account."
"A banquet? Flowers?" Orin was clearly struggling to keep up. "Forgive me, General, but... is there an event I haven't been informed about?"
Endymion forced himself to remain calm, though the panic was building inside him. "Just... get it done, Orin. No questions. We have 24 hours."
The sergeant stared at him for a moment, clearly stunned by the request, but his loyalty to Endymion was unwavering. "Understood, Sir! I'll handle everything. You'll be updated as soon as possible."
As the comms cut off, Endymion ran a hand through his dark hair, sinking back into his bed. He had always known that, as General, his interactions with her would increase. But nothing had prepared him for , coming tohishome. He looked around at the bare walls
Serenity—Usako—was coming to his house, and no matter how hard he tried, he had no idea how he would manage to keep his emotions from unraveling in front of her.