Tokimo bit into her tuna fish sandwich with a fervor few growing boys dreamed of. Seisui, however, suspected that Tokimo's aggressive eating habits were fueled not by hunger, but by anger.
"Tokimo..." Seisui began timidly, watching as Tokimo chugged down half of her canteen of green tea, "Maybe eating that fast... well, maybe you shouldn't eat like that."
"I can't believe that... that... Fubitchy!" Tokimo scowled, slamming her fist on the armrest of the crystalline bench she was seated on. "Her and her stupid boyfriend! I shoulda transformed and beat the crap outta those two losers!"
Seisui felt a swell of self-worth at Tokimo's willingness to protect her so fiercely against Fubuki. It didn't hurt Seisui's mood that Tokimo had decided to eat in the park that day, where Seisui could join her friend instead of being forced to endure Usako's company. Besides, Seisui had only bad memories of eating in school lunch yards. She remembered often wishing that school still had the short lunch periods that her father had told her existed almost a thousand years ago; although Seisui could escape other people's harassment during class time, lunch was one time when she was still vulnerable. Sitting and eating with Tokimo, if not exactly peaceful, was still far more cheerful--even though Tokimo's mood was hardly at it's sunniest.
"Don't let people give you that stupid crap, Seisui! If that little slacker punk gives you any more shit, give 'im one right in the kisser!" she continued. "Not that anyone would want to kiss his slimy frog lips! Eeeew!" she added with disgusted enthusiasm.
"I honestly can't believe you, Tokimo," Kouken whined as he grabbed a slice of cucumber from Tokimo's lunch and ate it wholeheartedly, "You blew what was probably our last chance to have an ally. You can't even keep a Senshi for more than a day!"
"It was three days, thank you very much!" Tokimo responded. "And anyway, we don't need her. Yamiko was nothing but a grumpy dump anyway, and she'd made up her mind as soon as you told her about your plans."
"That has nothing to do with the topic at hand!" Kouken scolded. "The point here is, Fubuki would still be very much in league with us, if a little on the cynical side, if you hadn't decided to kick her boyfriend!"
"He deserved it!" Tokimo snapped in reply. "Do we really want allies that are going to be insulting us? He was being mean to Seisui!"
"Seisui is capable of taking care of herself," Kouken hissed. "She doesn't need you to go around being her mother. I'm sure she didn't take it personally!"
Tokimo barely restrained the desire to throw Kouken across the street and into the window of the candy store. But, she decided, he might fly through the window and ruin the candy.
"What do you mean, she didn't take it personally? What do you mean, she can take care of herself!" Tokimo shouted. "You didn't see the look on Seisui's face! She took what Jirou said straight to heart! 'Taking care of herself?' Seisui was the one lying on the floor and taking the abuse when she was trying to break up the fight! What do you mean she can take care of herself!"
"If you didn't listen to her," Kouken hissed, "maybe it's your fault that Seisui took the abuse in the first place."
Tokimo paused for a moment, an uneasy expression crossing her face.
"Tokimo was just trying to protect me," Seisui interjected, "Please don't try to lay the responsibility on her."
"If I lay the responsibility on her, it's only because it's her responsibility!" he replied defensively.
"It's not Tokimo's responsibility if other people choose to interpret my words one way or another," Seisui replied, "And with the attitude that Fubuki was taking, it was doubtful whether she would have joined us for any indefinite period of time, anyway. She seemed the sort of person that would change her mind on a whim."
"Yeah!" Tokimo argreed. "Fubitchy would have been a crappy Senshi, anyway."
"It seems hypocritical to criticize Fubuki for being capricious," Kouken replied through his teeth. "As that is often a fault of your own. You're far too impulsive! How do you expect to be a Senshi if you just cavort around doing whatever you feel like?"
"Tokimo isn't capricious," Seisui replied, "If she was capricious, she would change her mind frequently... something which Tokimo almost never does. Quite the opposite, actually," Seisui said mildly, remembering Tokimo's excessive stubbornness.
"That wasn't the point," Kouken snapped. "The point is, Tokimo, you're much too bossy and inconsiderate. Try to shut up once and awhile and let me do the talking."
"Tokimo isn't inconsiderate!" Seisui replied, fervent. "Tokimo is... Tokimo's the only one who's ever thought about my feelings," she added more quietly.
"Regardless," Kouken began, trying to subdue his anger, "After Seisui's little adventure, things might get a little more complicated." He looked somewhat warningly at Seisui; yesterday had been a bit of a traumatic experience for her. He had been reluctant to say anything, even though he heard Seisui relate the entire story to Tokimo last evening. The problem, however, could not be ignored forever. "It doesn't seem unlikely that even Seisui herself will come into suspicion now. Previously, Usako was blinded by personal affection, and that kept her from suspecting Seisui. But I'm sure that the Sailor Senshi will not have the same biases. Seisui may be the downfall of us all." He concluded, looking at Seisui with a severe expression. Seisui blushed intensely and looked downwards, nibbling on her white rice ashamedly.
"Seisui won't be the downfall of anything, except that stupid bunny!" Tokimo interjected. "Stop trying to make Seisui feel bad. There's no point in being depressing and making her feel guilty, even if you are right. And you're not--because I know we'll figure out something! I'll beat up that bunny if I have to show up at the castle myself!"
"I'm surprised you haven't tried that yet, knowing you, Tokimo." Kouken replied in annoyance. "Anyway, Seisui... I don't suppose you thought of any more ideas for trying to isolate Usako?"
"No..." Seisui replied, her voice now diminished to nearly a whisper, "I had other things on my mind. Yesterday was hard for me."
"Yeah, get off Seisui's case!" Tokimo interjected. "She can't do everything for you. Seisui went through a lot of trouble. She had to deal with Usako, and her stupid Senshi buddies, and even the ditzy queen. You can't expect her to be thinking about Sailor Pinkmoon right now!"
"I would think, if anything, yesterday's problems would prompt even more thought on her part," Kouken responded. "But Sailor Pinkmoon isn't around today anyway, so we won't worry about that just yet."
"Good," Tokimo responded in vexation. "Now shut up so me and Seisui can talk without having to listen to your stupidity."
Kouken just ate another cucumber and prayed that the inspiration for some sneaky, embarrassing kind of revenge would come to him.
"What a bunch of freaks," Jirou spat in annoyance. His torn up sneakers and ragged pants were beginning to attract stares. He had to suppress the desire to break a nearby window as he and Fubuki walked into the "quality" section of town. The looks they got from the upper class walking down the street next to their meticulously cared for gardens--by servants, of course--were enough to make Jirou sick.
"You say that every time you walk me home," Fubuki observed apathetically. "I'm surprised you haven't got sick of saying it."
"Not the money whores," Jirou replied, "Those Senshi freaks. They're as bad as Little Miss Pink Prissy Ass."
"Oh..." Fubuki sighed, "I don't know if they're that bad. At least they want to kill Serenity."
"What're you gonna do with that brooch?" Jirou asked, somewhat bemusedly.
"I dunno," Fubuki replied, pulling out the large, elaborate piece of jewelry and inspecting it nonchalantly. "I hate to throw it away." She smirked slightly. "You never know when something like this might come in handy."
"What are you planning...?" Jirou asked a little uneasily. "If you start smiling, there's definitely something goin' on."
Fubuki threw the locket up into the air and caught it.
"Heh. No one will know who I am, right? Might as well have a good time with this thing."
"Just what exactly are you planning...?" Jirou asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I've had just about enough of that goddamn church and their hymns," Fubuki hissed. "Maybe I can create a little delay on before I have to hear their sermons again. You know... reconstruction time."
"You aren't seriously planning--"
"I really think that the Queen Serenity statuary could use a face-lift." Fubuki replied knowingly.
"Honestly, Fubuki..." Jirou interrupted, a minute hint of concern in his voice, "You can't be serious." He stood in front of her; Fubuki frowned slightly and an irate look crossed her face.
"Why not?" she queried.
"Because it's fuckin' crazy, that's why!" he retorted, emphatically shaking a fist. "What if someone found out? Who knows what'd happen!"
"No one will find out," Fubuki responded, "No one knows I'm Sailor... Sailor..."
"Fuckin' Mother Serenity!" Jirou exclaimed. "You don't even know what Senshi you are, goddammit!"
"That stupid dumbass said it'd come to me!" she retorted.
"What the hell is wrong with you Fubuki? I thought for sure you'd be beyond this insanity!"
"Because I'm sick of being my mother's goddamn toy!" she screamed, annoyed at herself for being so close to tears. "I'm sick of being at her disposal!"
"Bringing down some fuckin' church isn't gonna change anything! You know that, Fubuki! You know she'll just find another church," he explained, pausing to take in a breath, "And hell, if you broke apart every statue in the world, she'd make you worship some damn wax doll at home!"
"How do you know what my mother would do? Is she your mother?" Fubuki asked in frustration.
"I know what your mother would do because I know that she's some money-minded bitch who's greatest love for you is how good you make her look every Sunday at church!"
"If that were true, she just wouldn't bring me!" Fubuki replied in malice.
"Yeah, okay. I'm sure it would make your mom look real good if she didn't even take her daughter to her loser church." Jirou replied sarcastically.
"Probably better than taking me with her!"
"Yeah, whatever. If you ask me, the broad obviously doesn't love you."
Fubuki had trouble restraining a slap; she usually appreciated Jirou's willingness to be up front, but sometimes it was just blind insensitivity.
"This isn't about my mom!" she blurted out, trying to end the argument.
"Of course it's about your mom! Isn't that why you're doing this in the first place?" He asked her. He knew that the argument had reached a standstill, but he just couldn't stop himself from defending what he knew to be true.
"Shut up!" Fubuki screamed. "Just shut up!" She breathed for a few seconds, struggling to maintain control over herself. "I'll do what I please. I'll go trash that dump if I want to. And even if my mom still makes me go, it might mean a vacation. It might mean one more thing for her to suffer for, for all the things she's done that I know Dad would never, never have approved of!"
"You didn't know your father more than five years, and that's including the time before you knew a truck from a bicycle," He told her. He was beginning to become fed-up with her own self-assurance. "You don't know what the hell your father thought! Not more than a few sentences. And most of those weren't exactly optimistic words for the future."
"I'm going home now," Fubuki replied obstinately, stopping along the sidewalk. "Alone. I'm sick of listening to this."
"Whatever happened to telling me your feelings?" Jirou asked. Both derision and disappointment surfaced in his tone. He was angry at her, but just as unhappy to be fighting at all. "Huh?"
"What reason do I have to tell you how I feel when all you do is ridicule me?" Fubuki asked him. "I could bring up a lot of things about your family, but I haven't said a word."
Jirou paused for a moment, and an uneasy silence passed between them. Each of them felt something that was a mixture of love and resentment toward the other, and an implied feeling of both understanding and extreme hatred followed.
"Fuck this," Jirou finally said, turning around and heading for the seedier district of town. "Fuck this, I'm going home."
"What do you think you're going home to?" Fubuki shouted in anger as he left.
Fubuki couldn't help scowling as she walked up the marble steps and into the gold-leafed entranceway of her mother's mansion. She threw her dusty backpack viciously onto the nearest carpet, praying that it had left a nice big streak of dirt. She could hear the footsteps of her Nana coming down the hall; she didn't care what she had to say.
"Where's Jirou..?" she asked, alarmed at his absence. No matter how much her boss disliked Jirou, she usually turned a blind eye to his frequent visits as there was little else to give Fubuki cheer.
"He went home," Fubuki replied bluntly.
"Are you okay? You look worse than usual," she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Michito! Leave me alone. I've just...I've got a lot of homework," She hastily explained.
"Fubuki, we both know you--"
Fubuki glanced at her briefly; a warning look crossed her face and she tromped upstairs before Michito had even finished her sentence.
"Fuck it," Fubuki hissed as she lay down on the bed, thankful to be out of her wretched school uniform and inside her beloved trench. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the bedside clock. Her mother had gotten her one for her birthday, one of those fancy ones where you could wake up to music or one of five different alarms. Just to spite her, Jirou had bought Fubuki a plain analog alarm clock, which usually cost about 500 yen apiece. Nowadays, most people only bought analog clocks as a novelty, and it was the old-fashioned one that Fubuki had kept. They had smashed the one her mother gave her apart and thrown it in a dumpster.
"Damn it all!" she sobbed, throwing the alarm clock across the room and into her wall. "If I hadn't been a senshi, this never would have happened! If my goddamn son-of-a-bitch father hadn't died, I never would have met Jirou! If Serenity hadn't kept the ban on guns, he never would have died, that mother fuckin' bitch!" She threw the pillow across the room and into a wall clock, its glass cover long since shattered from her many other outbreaks. "It's all her fault!"
Fubuki finished her rant by punching her bedroom wall, which already had several dents in it and a couple of streaks of blood.
"I just want to be free!" she sobbed, her voice muffled by her sheets as she lay face down on her bed. "I want to get out of this."
A few moments went by; she must not have ruined the alarm clock, as she could still faintly hear it ticking.
"I have every right..." she assured herself, pulling up her head and looking at her locket. She still had it clenched firmly in one hand.
"I have every right to do this!" Fubuki affirmed, getting out of her bed.
Fubuki stood and regarded the Church of Serenity. She took in the sight of its massive statues of each of the Queen's four Sailor Guardians and the great Sailor Warriors of the outer planets. Their handsomely chiseled marble features made each of them look equally beautiful and exactly the same; the ideal images of the gods, who protected mortals in the path to self-actualization that each graceful goddess and god had already achieved. Fubuki wondered how much the great marble statues had cost; how many poor families in the squalid part of the district it could have afforded designer clothing and escape from the agonizing, if physically harmless, feeling of hunger. The huge crystal obelisk of the church stretched gracefully into the sky, and a sparkling, platinum crescent moon stood at its peak. The image of grandeur was before her.
Fubuki would enjoy smashing that grandeur to pieces.
But first, Fubuki thought, she ought to scare off the residential priest before he caught himself in a rather uncomfortable situation. Killing him, she decided, was a little bit unkind; and besides, she couldn't let him see what she was doing. If he stuck around to see that there was a Rebel Senshi in his church, the royals themselves might even show up, and that was one battle Fubuki knew she could not win. So she pushed apart the great wooden doors, intricately carved with the scriptures of the church, and walked past the elaborate and comfortable pews. At the head of the church, behind the stand on which the priest read his sermons, was the Holy Queen herself--carved in pure opal on a marble pedestal. Intricately carved robe-like garments covered her, along with delicate pearls; the robes, Fubuki had always believed, were something far more modest than anything the slutty queen would have worn. Fubuki turned away from the opal statue; its value was something she didn't even care to think of. She certainly knew that no one was ever allowed to touch the glittering wonder. The reason that it was made of such a soft stone, she had been told, was to symbolize the delicate holiness of the queen. Fubuki had decided long ago that it was because her church wanted to flaunt the fact that the richest people in Tokyo were most of the regular attendants. Either that, or that they were stupid enough to make a huge statue out of opal.
She walked past the statue and toward the back door--which was as gaudy as the rest of the building--and swung open the door into the hall where the offices were located. She knocked impatiently on the head priests' door. He not only stayed in the church after hours, but actually lived there. Fubuki was surprised he hadn't gone blind, with all the sparkling metal and polished stone in the church.
"Come in," a deep, resounding voice responded as Fubuki swung open the door and slammed it into the marble wall parallel to her. The Priest cringed, as Fubuki hoped he would; the doorknob had certainly left a scratch . That wouldn't be the only scratch, Fubuki thought as she smiled with pleasure.
"Fubuki..." he murmured in surprise. "Fubuki, why have you come? Are you here to repent? I am willing to hear your troubles and advise you."
"Shut up with the recycled religious tripe," Fubuki hissed, "Far more churches than yours have memorized those overused words."
The Priest looked a little disappointed. "What, then, have you come for...?" he asked, trying to sound empathetic.
"I've come to tell you to get your ass out of here, before your guts are spilling across your beloved statues," Fubuki told him with unconcerned bluntness. "A rival of mine is gonna trash up the place, and I don't think you'd wanna be in his way when he does."
"If a troubled young man comes into the church, that is all the more reason for me to be here," he responded, his voice full of what Fubuki thought must have been insincere compassion. "Perhaps there is a chance I could heal his wounded soul."
"You don't like me or anyone like me," Fubuki responded, beginning to tire of his pretentious moral righteousness. "If you want to die, stick around by all means. I'm sure your beautiful and mighty queen will come and save you," Fubuki added, her words drenched in derision.
"It has often been like this between us, Fubuki," he said regrettably, "And I wish you could feel the love the Queen offers everyone on this earth. There is nothing more accepting, beautiful and kind than her majesty, the protector of us all, and I often think how much happier you would be if you could understand that she could not feel anything but acceptance and forgiveness for you."
"Well, I often think how incredibly delusional you must be," Fubuki replied mockingly. "How can you be so unrealistic? No real human can be so accepting! The Queen has hated... she must have! How can a feeling every human knows so strongly be unknown to anyone?"
"We can destroy all feelings of anger and anguish, if we simply look to the light of her majesty," He responded.
"Yeah, whatever the hell you wanna believe. I'm leaving; if you want your pure, righteous guts spilled across the marble floor, that's no business of mine," she told him. "Have a nice day, won't you?" Fubuki added sardonically, walking out the door.
Yamiko's dislike of homework rivaled that of few girls her age. Most Japanese teenagers realized that no matter how horrendous and time-consuming the process was, getting into a good college, and inevitably, job, was unlikely without doing it. Yamiko, however, didn't let homework stop her from enjoying the time that she had, however little enjoyment she usually got out of it. So, as had been her usual custom, her homework sat in her bag while she sat somewhat irritably at her desk, reading a battered copy of "Hamlet."
The sliding door of her balcony was open; Yamiko, though frail, was not beyond a fresh breeze now and again. She was just getting to Act II when she could hear the faint sound of clinking outside.
Yamiko looked up from her book; the fact that she was alone, something normally familiar and perfectly comfortable to her, was suddenly alarming and frightening. Then she shook her head and kept reading; it was probably the platinum railings on someone else's balcony just clinking loosely in their shining, concrete floor.
She fidgeted nervously as she heard the increasingly loud clinking noises again. She froze; closing the door probably wasn't a bad idea. At least she wouldn't have to hear the noise, she thought. She forced herself up from the chair nervously and approached the door, reaching her hand out slowly to close it and trying not to look outside.
"Good evening." A deep, purposeful voice greeted her.
"Who's there?" Yamiko asked fearfully, still looking downwards.
"If you were looking at me, instead of the floor, I think that would become quite obvious."
Yamiko looked upward and felt a little relieved when she realized it was the Crimson Eagle, staring at her with an expectant expression.
"What are you doing here?" Yamiko demanded; then thinking better of her question, "More importantly, how did you know where I live? If you're here, you must know who I am! How did you know I was Sailor Phoebe?"
"I don't know," he replied.
"What you're doing here or how you knew who I am?"
"Either. Well, not exactly," he amended. "I know that I'm here because there is danger, and you and I are a team. As to where you lived or who you were; I simply began walking. I led myself to you."
Yamiko raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Where is there danger?" she asked, deciding that she needed a reason before she was going to risk her skin for the moral principles of someone who 'led themselves' randomly to her balcony.
"Another Moon Senshi has appeared. She is going to destroy something."
"Destroy something? What?"
"I do not know. I can only vaguely tell that she has ill intentions."
"Wait. What? What are you going on about?" Yamiko asked, confused.
"I can sense the sadness and anger of those senshi nearby me," he replied. "That is how I know they are in conflict."
"I suppose that was how you found me," Yamiko replied, humoring the Crimson Eagle.
"I imagine it was," he replied irreverently. "You certainly show no lack of negative feeling."
"You talk like an old man," Yamiko replied, deciding not to comment on his insult in favor of changing the subject.
He laughed this time; it was a mocking laugh, and Yamiko felt a ping of anger as she considered the impudence of his open disdain toward her.
"I suppose I do," he replied. "But enough of this. Time grows shorter and I fear what may be amiss. I would appreciate your help, if you are willing to give it."
"And what if I'm not?" Yamiko replied indignantly.
"Then it appears to me," he began, "That you enjoy forming a righteous opinion and doing nothing at all to further its realization."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.
"Exactly what I said."
"What if I just don't like running off with some freak I don't even know?"
"As I said before."
"What do you mean?" she replied, irritated at his vagueness.
"That you enjoy forming opinions and sitting at home, thinking about how righteous you are."
"I do not!"
"Then you will accompany me...?" he asked her, holding out a gloved hand.
"I can't even see your face," Yamiko protested.
"There is little I can do about that. It is against the code, you see."
"The code...?" She asked suspiciously.
"The code of Knights."
Yamiko paused for a moment; she seemed to remember Kouken discussing this before. He hadn't said anything about wearing masks, though.
"Will you accompany me? I have little time to waste trying to convince you to do the right thing. Or will you sit at home professing something but doing nothing to uphold it...?"
"I'll go with you," Yamiko snapped. "If just to make you stop insulting me." She really didn't want to accompany him; but, she supposed, someone had to stop Tokimo and Seisui from screwing things up too badly.
"Very well," he replied.
"How did you get here, anyway...?" Yamiko asked him critically, pondering the idea of such a conspicuous man going up the elevator.
"It's only four stories up," he responded casually, "I climbed."
Yamiko raised her eyebrows. "Right. Whatever."
"If you will be so kind as to transform..." he trailed off, turning around out of politeness.
Yamiko begrudgingly pulled out her transformation brooch, all the while slightly nervous that this weird pervert might try to peek; the transformation was extremely quick, but a well-trained eye might know where to look when. After checking to see that The Crimson Eagle was thoroughly facing the opposite direction, she held up her brooch and transformed, trying to say the phrase as quietly as humanly possible.
"Are you finished?" He asked, still facing the opposite direction.
"Yes," she replied. "Now, how do you suggest we get out of here...?"
"We jump, of course," he replied matter-of-factly.
"Four stories?" Sailor Phoebe shouted in disbelief. "You'll kill yourself! And me!"
"I've done it thousands of times," he replied confidently. "Now, up you go." He grabbed Sailor Phoebe easily by the waist and lifted her up into his arms.
"Let go of me!" she screamed in fear, struggling vainly against his strength.
"You'll be fine," he assured her, stepping onto the platinum railing and jumping down toward the sidewalk below. Sailor Phoebe closed her eyes in resigned fear, praying that she would pass out before they hit the sidewalk below.
Sailor Phoebe barely had time to scream before a huge clank resounded through the air. She could hear the sound of cloth flapping briefly; then all that could be heard was the somewhat far-off sound of cars and trolleys driving down the streets of Crystal Tokyo.
"Are you alright?" the Crimson Eagle asked her as Sailor Phoebe opened her eyes fearfully. Amazingly, nothing had happened; she was still very much alive and well, except for being scared out of her wits. "You'll be able to stand up, won't you...?" He asked, his voice ever so slightly nervous.
Sailor Phoebe looked up at The Crimson Eagle; he appeared to be perfectly fine, as did she. Sailor Phoebe sighed in relief and nodded a bit uncomfortably as the Crimson Eagle set her delicately on the ground, her knees shaking somewhat violently.
"H-how do you expect me to fight after that?" she replied. "I thought I was going to die..."
"If only for practicality's sake, it would have been unwise for me to kill myself, and you, when we have more important things to attend to. I told you, I've done this many times."
"How is it possible for you to jump that far, in that kind of... clothing, without hurting yourself?" she asked, more than a little amazed despite her distrust of the strange man.
"How is it possible for you to shoot black dragons out of your hand?" he replied.
"Because I'm a Sailor Senshi." Sailor Phoebe responded. "I don't know why exactly, beyond that."
"Well, the same applies for me." he explained. "Those powers were granted to me; why I possess them is beyond me."
"I suppose that makes sense." Sailor Phoebe admitted a bit awkwardly.
"Do you feel well enough to run?" He asked her, noticing that she was somewhat pale.
"Yeah..." Sailor Phoebe nodded. The Crimson Eagle's explanation had made her feel a little more comfortable with the implausibility of what had happened. "I'm not much of a runner, though." She confessed.
"It's not far from here," He assured her, "It's in the same section of town as this, but it's nearer to the mansions than the apartment complexes. Shall we leave?" he asked, turning toward her.
"Yeah." Sailor Phoebe nodded a bit apprehensively.
Of all places, Sailor Phoebe hadn't been planning on going back to that area of town.
Fubuki knew better than anyone that her church was a place of false appearances. Whatever the priest said, Fubuki was pretty sure what he was likely to do; so she crouched underneath one of the marble pews and waited impatiently for the inevitable.
Sure enough, she noticed with a smile, within a few minutes the Priest was nervously looking out his door. He paused in front of the great Statue of Serenity for a moment, whispering a prayer. Probably for forgiveness, Fubuki thought with a scowl. Then he gave another nervous glance as he ran out the door, his white robes trailing ever so slightly behind him. After he had left, Fubuki got out from underneath the pews and stood in front of the Queen's grand, opal statue, cracking her knuckles in satisfaction. Then she reached inside her pocket and pulled out the green and black locket that Kouken had given her just the day before.
"Miranda prism power, make up!" she cried as the words of her transformation phrase appeared in her mind and she transformed into Sailor Miranda.
"I can't wait until my mom finds out." She grinned.
Sailor Miranda felt like she was at the candy store; there were so many things that she wanted to do, she just couldn't decide. The first order of business, however, was decidedly the opal statue. That goddamn thing had been staring down at her since she was six; and it was about time she showed the queen what she thought of her sugary moral goodness.
"Arctic blades!" she shouted. A blizzard of snow and ice came spiraling from her hands as two huge, circular saw blades ran across the marble floor, leaving gaping fissures in their finely polished surface. Then the blades zoomed up toward the statue of Serenity in a storm of cold fury; the opal statue was sawed neatly into three pieces. Each gigantic chunk of the opal statue fell onto broad, flat surface of the shining marble floor and shattered into dozens of small, glittering pieces. Sailor Miranda, propelled by her increasing feelings of victory and triumph, picked up one of the broken pieces of opal and threw it into the back wall. The stone smashed into sparkling shards; Sailor Miranda watched them gleam through the light of the huge, stained glass windows. In each great window was the image of a Sailor Senshi, staring down at her in judgment. Well, they would be easy enough to get rid of.
Sailor Miranda raised her hands again and repeated the attack; this time, the blades shattered through two of the great windows, destroying the stern look of Sailor Uranus and the observant stare of Sailor Saturn. Glass flew everywhere as the windows shattered; one of the fragments flew back at Sailor Miranda and made a gash in her arm. "What the fuck?!" she exclaimed, wondering how the glass had been propelled forward. She turned around to see where the shard had landed. "An iron ring?" she said, noticing the cold circlet and picking it up in confusion. "Where the hell…?"
"Why do you desecrate what others regard as holy, however incorrect?" The voice of The Crimson Eagle queried. His dark, imposing silhouette appeared in the shattered window alongside Sailor Phoebe's slender frame.
"Who the fuck are you?" Sailor Miranda scowled, throwing the iron ring back toward The Crimson Eagle. The ring, badly aimed, bounced off the marble wall to the left of the window and clanged on the floor.
"I must congratulate you," he replied unemotionally, "You have the most abhorrent language of any Moon Senshi thus far."
"What the hell do you care? Why the fuck are you interfering?" she retorted, holding up a hand threateningly. "I'm a senshi, you know, and if you think I'm afraid of some goddamn prick who throws fruit loops--"
The Crimson Eagle picked up Sailor Phoebe and jumped down from the window, landing a good ten feet down onto the gleaming marble floor. Sailor Miranda watched with awed interest as he gently set down Sailor Phoebe; she stayed where he had set her, looking disapprovingly toward Sailor Miranda from a fairly safe distance. Sailor Miranda already wanted to spill that freak's guts. The Crimson Eagle continued to approach her, unsheathing his sharp, gleaming katana and holding it toward Miranda threateningly.
"I am unaware of who you are or for what purpose you have chosen to vandalize a building," he began, "as it seems to have no practical or justified purpose, except to satisfy whatever bloodthirsty urges you are currently entertaining. However, it is my strong advice that you leave immediately, for fear of provoking any further injury to yourself."
"You sound like a fucking textbook," Fubuki replied. "Anyway, I'm not interested in hearing your bullshit. Fuck off before I beat the shit out of you."
"Shadow dragon!" Sailor Phoebe cried as a huge, black dragon launched toward Sailor Miranda. The great, dark creature tore off one of Sailor Miranda's sleeves and left a large, red gash in her shoulder.
"Do not attack so readily," the Crimson Eagle warned Sailor Phoebe.
"If the best argument she can come up with is 'you sound like a goddamn textbook,' I really have nothing against attacking her," Sailor Phoebe replied in annoyance. "I've had enough of people who fight without good reasons."
"Then you judge as quickly as you attack. You don't even know her true motives yet," he responded. "Tell me, Miranda, what are your reasons for doing this...?"
"Stay outta my goddamn business," she snapped, "My reasons are my own!"
"Since you refuse to expound them, I can only assume they are weak. Therefore, I must insist you cease," he replied.
"Fuck. You," she replied, holding out her hands. "Arctic blades!" she shouted as another pair of snow and ice saws spun toward The Crimson Eagle. He moved off to the side, his cape trailing behind him; the saws ripped through his cape and kept moving forward, rushing up against a marble wall and making a huge crack in the stone of the church.
"Well? What are you going to do?" Sailor Phoebe asked somewhat indignantly. "Are you just going to stand there and dodge her attacks all night?"
The Crimson Eagle ignored the question; Sailor Phoebe raised her hands again in preparation.
"Shadow dragon!" she shouted as another great dragon went hurtling toward Sailor Miranda.
The dragon flew toward Sailor Miranda; it almost appeared to Sailor Phoebe that it had gone right through Miranda and disintegrated. Apparently, though, the dragon had done something, since Sailor Miranda was now unconscious, her silent form lying peacefully on the ground. The sight made Yamiko uneasy; even in sleep, a look of watchful contempt fell across her face. The Crimson Eagle picked her up gently.
"What are you going to do with her?" Phoebe asked him, her voice somewhat disquieted. "I think she's better off right where she is."
The unconscious form of Sailor Miranda was suddenly enveloped in light. The light soon dispersed and the limp form of an older adolescent replaced it, a huge black trench coat falling around her.
"It's her!" Sailor Phoebe exclaimed. "That girl... the one that was staring at me. I wonder if Charon and Titan planned this...?" she asked a bit disgustedly.
"Unlikely," the Crimson Eagle replied, "Unjust as they may be, they are very focused in their goals. What reason would they have for destroying an innocent church? No, I believe this was her own doing; perhaps some personal hatred."
"Did my attack do that...?" Sailor Phoebe asked. "I didn't think it knocked people out..." she added in puzzlement.
"No," he responded, "Your attack only served as an excellent distraction while I knocked her out from behind."
"I see. What are you going to do with her?"
"Leave her here," he informed her. "I do not know where she lives, and I'm sure that the people who attend this church will know who she is." he removed his huge black cloak and wrapped it gently around her before setting her down on one of the marble pews
Sailor Phoebe smirked. She only wished she could see what would happen the next day when they found her lying amongst the rubble of the church.
"Thank you for your help," he replied, bowing lightly in front of her. "Even though it was unwilling."
Sailor Phoebe wasn't sure if that was a rather discreet insult or not; she decided that either way, a cold nod would probably be the best response.
"Very well, then." Turning around and walking through the huge marble doors, he left Sailor Phoebe behind to ponder the strangeness of what had happened that evening.
"Why did I have to get myself into this...?" she said with a sigh, glancing at the ruins of the church and walking irritably back toward home.
Prodosia looked downwards.
The face of the cliff loomed ominously beneath her; Prodosia had not been afraid of it since she was a little girl. But now, as she looked at the Black Water's woeful swirling, she could barely move forward.
She would not be slaughtered. She would end this on her own.
Prodosia's feet stepped forward, off the sheer rock face, and she could feel herself falling....
Seisui's eyes snapped open. The commanding buzz of her alarm clock resounded through the bedroom; she had never felt so unwilling to go to school before. Another school day meant another day of pretending, of putting up with Usako, something she detested more than anything else. But, she thought resignedly as she turned off the obnoxious tolling, that was the way of things. This was her duty, and there was no escaping it.
Seisui put on her uniform, meticulously knotting the pink tie on the front. The house was quiet; her mother and father had both left for work, and her sister's school started an hour earlier. All that could be heard as she entered her grungy, cheaply-built kitchen was the tinkling of a chime outside.
Seisui put two slices of bread in the toaster microwave. Then she walked over to her dining room table and pulled out a plastic chair, nonchalantly glancing at the paper as she did so.
"This is..." Seisui murmured in shock as she looked at the front page, "This is.. not possible!"
She sat down and covered her face with her hands. This was a dream. A dream...
"Impossible... impossible... impossible!" she mumbled in shock, trying to deny the reality.
She pulled her hands off of her face and slapped herself. The pain she felt was real; she looked down at the headline again, trying to will it out of existence.
No, still there, she thought frantically. Still there, in bold print, across the front page...
"Why?" she asked herself, devastated. "Why can't this be a dream...?"
~EPISODE FOUR: FIN~
Listening to a gentle lullaby, I think just a little of the
past
It’s full of mistakes and sorrow, but since
You are
here, I won't regret it
Though I’m under the pink moon,
I need an even stronger
comfort
Even if I make only mistakes,
Say, "I love you,"
okay?
Shinpi-teki na unmei motsu noni
Tsuki ni
michibikarete doko ni tadoritsuku to mada kangaete iru
Yasashige na lullaby kiite kako wo sukoshi dake omou
Machigai
mo hiai mo ippai dakedo anata ga iru kara
Koukai-shinai
Pink-iro no tsuki no shita ni iru kedo
Motto tsuyoi nagusame ga
iru no
Tatoe ayamachi dake shitemo
I love you tte itte ne
NEXT EPISODE
Seisui: I cannot run away.
Tokimo: There is no longer any escape for Seisui. The rumors fly, and everyone is mean to her! Usako has no courage to fight on her own... how can Kouken expect me not to interfere with Seisui's plans when I know how they make her suffer?
Yamiko: Seisui has only brought this upon herself. And yet, when I watch her, I am reminded of my own struggles...
Fubuki: I do not want the help of those I despise. But I have nothing but enemies, and so I can only hope for the help of those who hate me. However, there is one I am at odds with who I know will never support me...
Seisui: Someone... anyone... help me!!
Next time, on MOON SENSHI: UNMEI NO KODOMO--
"The Messiah of Odium"
Evil returns to those who create it.
