A bright, yellow light fell onto Fubuki's face. She opened her eyes groggily; above her, the sun shone amiably through the now-broken window. She could see the purple shards still lodged along the frame of the window that had once been Saturn's small, observant form; she smirked slightly at the sight of the destruction she had caused to the Church of Serenity. There was only one thing that she detested more than that godforsaken church.

"You are awake?" the voice of the priest queried, his hand placed gently on her unwounded shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm awake," she snapped, flinging off his arm in annoyance and sitting up. "My eyes are open, aren't they? What the fuck do you care?"

"I only just found you lying here," he explained, "and I was worried about you. You have quite severe wounds in your arm and shoulder. I think you should go to the hospital."

"I'm fine," she hissed, standing up weakly and brushing herself off. The blood from the wounds the priest had mentioned had seeped through her coat in the night; dull dry splotches could be seen on the black trench coat. As she stood up, Fubuki felt herself stumble slightly and fall back into the marble pew, hitting herself somewhat painfully on the spine.

"Allow me to contact the hospital," the priest told her, "You have lost far too much blood, if you are too weak to stand up."

"I can take care of myself!" Fubuki objected as the priest walked back toward his office. Damn it all. The Crimson Eagle had knocked her out; even worse, that stupid jackass had left her here, just in the right place for the priest to find her. And however much that priest thought he was ahead of her, she knew the bastard would call her bitch of a mother and tell her that it probably had something to do with her warning the night before. And damn it all--after that, who knew how bad her mother's accusations would be, or how far she would go to punish her...?

"The ambulance will be here any moment," the priest called to her assuringly as he reentered the room. Fubuki hurled herself off of the marble pew, lunging toward the priest; she stumbled a few feet toward his feet, and then fell down, her body pleading her to rest.

"Fuck you," Fubuki spat, pulling up her torso and grabbing onto the priest's ankle. "You son of a bitch! You told her--you told that bitch, didn't you?"

"Excuse me," the priest began, trying to ignore Fubuki's abhorrent tongue. "Who are you speaking of?"

"You know who I'm talking about, you religious pimp!" she cried. "My goddamn excuse for a mother! You know!"

"Of course I told your mother," the priest responded. "She will be extremely worried. Someone has to take care of you in this state."

"This state...!" She spat on the marble floor, cutting her sentence off with a frothy glob of saliva. "My state will be a hell of a lot worse once she finds out! Dammit! Damn you!"

"Please, Fubuki," he continued patiently, "Cease all this movement. You cannot afford to expend such energy in this state."

"Son of a bitch," Fubuki murmured, her voice desperate and resigned. "Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch..."

The priest easily moved his ankle out of Fubuki's weakened hand; he walked back to the pew and replaced the strange, crimson cloak onto her. After that, blackness covered her desperate gaze and time elapsed into nothingness.

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

Though I hold a mysterious destiny,
I'm still wondering to where I will struggle on, being led by the moon

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?

Moon Senshi: Unmei no Kodomo

Episode Five:

"The Messiah of Odium"

Fubuki let out a slight moan as the searing, hostile whiteness of the hospital flooded into her blearily opening eyes. There was a small TV above her, droning the news; Fubuki couldn't hear it, but she didn't much care. She turned her head to one side; there was a view of Crystal Tokyo through the window, spreading out before her. But Fubuki wasn't interested in scenery. She turned to the other side, where a thin, bleached curtain separated her cot from the rest of the room.

Hospitals had lost much of the significance they once had before the Neo Silver Millennium; free from disease, hunger, and old age, most people there were those who had sustained serious physical injuries, and even these people's recovery times were quicker than had been known before the age of Crystal Tokyo.

Fubuki could hear the sound of muffled voices on the other side of the curtain. Her mind was still somewhat fuzzy; she groaned once again with the memory of the previous evening, that her mother would know where she was and what had happened the night before. Although the priest would give an account of the events that would make Fubuki seem innocent, her mother would surmise a host of details that would somehow incriminate her as the cause of the vandalism.

"It is my belief, Ms. Jujutsu," a familar voice began; the priest, Fubuki realized, probably come to comfort her mother, "that Fubuki tried to stay and stop her friends from fighting, and was caught in the crossfire. You should be proud of your daughter; this is an important change from her normal behavior. Clearly, this is a sign that she has learned to appreciate the kindness of the church, however much her outward behavior suggests otherwise."

Fubuki smirked at the irony. The priest had made the perfect excuse for her, without even realizing it.

"How can you be so naive?" Fubuki's mother replied depreciatingly. "I know that girl too well to think so kindly of her. There is no way she would have stopped someone from trashing that holy sanctuary; there is nothing she hates more than the church."

Nothing, Fubuki thought, except for her mother.

"If anything," her mother continued, "it is more likely that she injured herself while vandalizing the church. You said the windows had been broken, correct? Perhaps she cut herself on the falling glass while she was breaking them."

"That seems unlikely," the priest dissented. "When the crime scene was investigated, there were signs that seemed to indicate more than one person had been present that night. After all, the damage was far too large scale for a single person. Moreover, I doubt the glass could have gone straight through a heavy duster like the one Fubuki was wearing that evening. There weren't even any cuts in her trench coat, such as a sharp object would have made."

"Well, then..." Fubuki's mother paused, looking desperately for an explanation. "She was probably telling at least part of the truth; perhaps a friend of hers was going to meet her, and they were going to wreck the church together. And then they got in some kind of argument and ended up getting in a fight. Most likely it was that boy she's seeing; that druggie boy. I've told her to break up with that impecunious filth, but of course, that only encourages her the more. She enjoys seeing me suffer," she ranted. It was her mother's usual custom to unload her problems, usually related to Fubuki's 'ungratefulness,' to the head priest of the church; he always seemed to listen with a sympathetic ear. God knew no one else sympathized with that self-righteous bitch, Fubuki thought with a scowl.

"I know that your daughter does not understand your position," the priest replied empathetically, "but you must not be eager to criminalize her. What motive would she have to warn me? Doing so would only increase her chances of getting caught by the police. Fubuki has had a tough time since her father died; if you blame her for things she may or may not have done, you only make things harder for her."

Wow, Fubuki thought. Not everything the priest said was total bullshit. Somewhere in all that religious tripe he had some semblance of a brain.

"I'll raise my own daughter, thank you!" her mother snapped. "Now please, move out of the way! I want to see my daughter."

"She is still resting, Ms. Jujutsu," the priest informed her. "She just got her stitches a few hours ago. You should let her be."

"Out of the way!" she commanded, a warning glare in her cold gray eyes. "I told you, I want to see Fubuki!"

"Very well, ma'am," the priest replied, his voice becoming subdued. Fubuki could hear his footsteps as he walked hurriedly out of the hospital room and closed the door sharply behind him.

Fubuki's mother was silent for a moment; the silence, Fubuki knew, would not last long. She closed her eyes and tried to savor it for a moment; a world free from oppression. She wished that she was still unconscious; that she didn't have to listen to the endless ranting of her mother, neglectful in all aspects of her life but the appearance she presented to her mother's peers.

"Fubuki!" she shouted, pulling the curtain aside violently as she walked toward the bed. "Wake up immediately!"

Fubuki turned to the other side and looked at the sparkling view of the city. The scenery suddenly seemed almost interesting; she tried to ignore her mother's calls and just focus on the loathsome, sparkling obelisk of the Crystal Palace that she could see through the window.

"Fubuki!" her mother repeated, louder this time. "Don't try to pretend you're still asleep; I know you're not! Sit up and listen to me, young lady!"

"No," Fubuki replied.

"I won't accept a 'no' from you! Sit up, or else!"

"Or else what?" Fubuki said contemptuously. "Are you gonna pull me up? Grab me by the stitches and tie me to the ceiling? Well? Just what the fuck are you planning, huh?"

"How dare you talk to me that way!" she cried. "And if you want to know, the consequences are this: if you don't sit up, I won't pay for your stitches to be removed, and you can have them for the rest of your life!"

"What a bunch of bullshit," Fubuki sighed. "Come up with a real threat. I could just take them out myself."

Her mother paused for a moment; she grabbed Fubuki by her uninjured shoulder and somewhat laboriously pulled her limp figure upwards.

"Tell me, Fubuki, what did you do last night?" she asked her accusingly.

"I stayed home and threw darts at a picture of you, aiming to send a hole right through the center of your head," Fubuki snapped.

Her mother slapped Fubuki; Fubuki didn't give a fuck. That goddamn bitch deserved every word.

"Thanks for caring delicately for the injured," Fubuki told her.

"If you don't tell me what you were doing last night right now, so help me..." She paused, trying to think of an appropriate punishment. "So help me, I'll take your filthy coat and burn it to nothing!"

Fubuki looked anxiously around the hospital room; the whereabouts of her coat hadn't even crossed her mind, and she hated to think what her mother might have done to it. She knew that her mother wasn't beyond the kind of deceptive cruelty entailed in making a threat to do something she had already done. Thankfully, however, her coat was draped across the chair next to her bed, still caked with blood in a couple of places. Fubuki reached out and grabbed the coat. She held it protectively in her arms; it was the only tie to her father she still had, and losing that coat meant losing a part of herself.

"If you burn this coat..." Fubuki warned her mother, "they'll have more to repair that just that goddamn church."

"What are you suggesting?" her mother asked acidly.

"I don't have any attachment to your goddamn sparkling piece of shit house."

Fubuki's mother paused. She knew that Fubuki wasn't beyond ripping her house apart; god knew she had done it enough to her own room.

"Admit to me that you vandalized the church!" she demanded, returning to the point.

"I won't admit to things I didn't do," Fubuki rejoined bitingly. "I didn't touch your fuckin' church." Fubuki didn't give a fuck if she was lying; that bitch didn't deserve the truth.

"I won't leave until you give me the truth!"

"I already gave you the truth," Fubuki replied. "If you just want me to kiss ass and tell you want you want to hear, though, that's an entirely different story."

Her mother paused for a moment; her tall, imposing figure towered over Fubuki's bed-ridden form. Fubuki knew her mother wasn't really interested in hearing the truth; she wouldn't even have cared that Fubuki was a Sailor Senshi, unless it meant the chance to kiss ass with the queen. All she cared about was making Fubuki into her clone, only an improved clone, a clone without the flaws that Fubuki knew she abhored somewhere deep inside her heartless exterior. But Fubuki had resisted her control so completely, so absolutely, that her mother had not a shred of hope of turning her around. It seemed that all she had left was to prove just how awful a person Fubuki was, how much it couldn't have been perfect Ms. Jujutsu's fault. Fubuki wasn't going to give into her mother's wishes, because she knew how wholly everything horrible that had ever happened to her was really her mother's fault.

"If you do not admit to what you have done," her mother replied warningly, "I'll send you back to private school."

"You know I'd only make hell if you did!" Fubuki hollered in response. Her days in the private school had been hellish at best; she had had no one to talk to, and her only escape from insanity had been driving everyone else insane first.

"Maybe the stringent principles would teach you, once and for all, the proper way to act."

"You know I wouldn't show up. You know I'd never buy into that shit!" Fubuki replied.

"Maybe the unhappiness you feel there would be a lesson to you for behaving so impulsively and thoughtlessly to those around you, especially me. Now tell me...didn't you vandalize the church?"

Fubuki's face contorted as she resisted the urge to cry. "Fuck you," she hissed, "fuck you! You don't know or understand what the hell I do and what I don't do! You could never understand what I'm going through, you goddamn bitch!"

"Tell me, Fubuki!" She commanded.

"Fine!" Fubuki shouted resignedly. "Fine! You wanna hear it? Fuck this. I busted up the church. I broke the statue. I smashed the windows. I cut myself by some miraculous power and ended up in the hospital with stitches. Happy?"

"Happier than if you had lied, though that isn't saying much," her mother replied icily. "I will decide on your punishment later. After all you have put me through, don't expect me to be forgiving. I'm going back to work now; the doctor said you should rest for the day, but that you could go back to school by tomorrow morning. I trust you can take care of that much yourself."

"Thank god I can," Fubuki replied. "I'd hate to rely any more on a bitch like you."

"I hope you feel better soon," her mother replied unfeelingly as she turned around and walked out of the hospital, slamming the door behind her.

"I love you too, bitch," Fubuki retorted, watching the door close.

Usako woke up with a jump, a cold shiver running down her spine as the cool air of the spring night drifted through her open window. She had been dreaming; she didn't even remember what she had been dreaming about.

I am amazed that you were able to cause this much trouble in such a short time.

The harsh words of her father were still ringing angrily in her head. Why had her family acted so cruelly to Seisui? From the most logical perspective, Usako could see the reasons for suspecting Seisui. For her family, the explanation had been easy; one left and one entered. Both were, seemingly, enemies of the royal house. But Usako knew Seisui's gentle temperament and nonviolent nature; even though she was often controlled by her emotions, she wasn't one to do harm, especially not to someone that she knew was important to Usako.

And even though their suspicion that Seisui was Sailor Titan could be easily understood, their immediate hatred of her could not. "Scars on the household..." Surely, mere criticism could not have been enough to merit such harsh feelings; to justify completely ignoring the presence of Seisui, and put her under immediate suspicion and dislike.

Usako sat up slowly, trying to ignore the heavy sensation in her muscles. Turning to her clock, she saw that it was four in the morning. There was no way she could fall back asleep now, even if she had wanted to. She had had trouble enough trying to drift off the first time; by the time she was relaxed enough to fall back asleep, it would be time to wake up again.

Usako got out of her soft, pink flannel sheets and walked over to the open window. From the tower of Crystal Tokyo, she could see for miles. Even at its darkest hour, she reflected, there were thousands of twinkling lights. By the time she was in school that morning, everyone in this sprawling city would have heard the news about Seisui. Everyone would be watching her, and, Usako thought restlessly, doing who knew what else.

Usako grabbed her school uniform off of her bedroom dresser and plodded to her shower. Since she had woken up, there was no reason not to get ready for school. Usako leaned against the ceramic wall of the shower as its warm water cascaded down her back; no matter how clean she became, she still felt heavy and burdened. After she finished her shower, which offered none of the calming benefits she'd hoped it would, she put on her uniform and walked quietly out into the silent, pitch-black hall of the palace.

"Good Morning, Usa," Hiroshi's voice greeted her.

"Hiroshi?" she called timidly. "Why are you up?"

"I've been up all night," he replied. "I couldn't sleep. And you?"

"I woke up," she explained. "I think I had a bad dream. I don't remember it anymore..." she added.

"Come join me; I'm on the stairs." he told her. There was no way she could have seen him in the almost suffocating darkness of the hall.

Usako walked over to the huge staircase, making her way somewhat carefully in the unlighted hall. She sat down on the step and inched her way toward Hiroshi, who put his arm around her and hugged her affectionately.

"How did all of this ever happen?" she asked. "I just wanted to help someone..."

"It's because Seisui isn't trustworthy," Hiroshi explained. "Because she makes every appearance of being suspicious."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Usako asked, her voice wavering.

"Seisui appears suspicious," Hiroshi explained quietly, "by no fault of her own. On the surface, the Senshi have every reason to believe what they do; but on the other hand, they don't know Seisui like you do. They don't understand what kind of person she is."

"How can I make them understand?"

Hiroshi said nothing.

A look of desperation crossed Usako's face; even Hiroshi, even Helios, older even than her mother, did not have an answer.

"There must be a way we can show them that Seisui isn't at fault."

"The proof is against her. They certainly won't let her back in the palace, and I doubt they would leave it to meet her. Something her father did obviously struck them in a powerful and negative way; more strongly than I had suspected. All we can do now is wait." Hiroshi paused, his face showing signs of frustration. "Wait, and hope that something else comes up. Right now, we don't have any solutions."

"I don't want to wait," Usako replied obstinately. "I'm sick of waiting. Waiting to grow up, waiting to be a Senshi, waiting to be a lady."

"To me," Hiroshi replied, "you've always been a lady. I knew that from the beginning."

Usako paused; this was an invitation to break down, to cease trying to maintain the control she had been struggling for ever since yesterday afternoon. Hiroshi hugged her, and Usako cried because she had nothing else to do.

"Tokimo," a voice called dimly, "Tokimo, you've slept through your alarm. You have to get up now."

Tokimo's eyes opened slowly as she saw her mother's face poised anxiously above her.

"Hrrrmmm... mom?" she said distractedly, sitting up slowly.

"You're going to be late," she continued, "if you don't hurry up."

Tokimo glanced at her purple bunny clock; it was a good fifteen minutes past the time she usually got up.

"Oops."

Well, no biggie, Tokimo thought. She would probably get to school on time as long as she sprinted.

"Tokimo..." her mother paused; she sounded depressed to Tokimo. Usually, her mother was almost as chipper as Tokimo was known to be.

"And..?" Tokimo prompted, a curious note in her voice. "Did something bad happen? Did giant hedgehogs take over Crystal Tokyo? Did Kouken get flushed down the toilet? Not that that would be much of a tragedy..."

"Tokimo..." her mother began, "you'd better look at the paper before you leave for school. It's on the table."

"The newspaper?" Tokimo asked in puzzlement. "But the news is so boooring." got out of bed and pulled open one of her pastel drawers, gathering a clean set of undies. "It's only about bad stuff happening and the stock market."

"Please look at the paper. I made your lunch; it's on the table. Make sure to grab a pop-tart before you leave, sweetie."

"Oh yeah, we were out yesterday. Did you buy any more?"

Her mother nodded. "No frosting."

"Right! No frosting!" Tokimo nodded enthusiastically. Smiling, Tokimo rather exaggeratedly motioned with her hands for her mother to leave. She walked out the door slowly, giving a worried glance as she left.

What was in the newspaper that had been such a big deal? For now, she had to concentrate on getting ready. She supposed she'd have to wait until she saw it to be angry and outraged.

Tokimo pulled her uniform down from the coat hanger on the door. She hurriedly pulled up her skirt and squeezed into her blouse; grabbing her brush, she ran it determinedly through her tangled hair. Then she dashed to the kitchen and bit about half of her first pop-tart off in one bite.

"Where did you say the newspaper was?" she asked her mother, who was pulling a large chicken out of the freezer.

"Right on the dining room table," her mother responded tersely.

Tokimo finished her first pop-tart and ran to the large, glass sliding door that separated the dining room from the kitchen. Throwing all her weight into it, it slid aside somewhat violently before she lunged to the table and looked down at the paper.

"Han'i daughter suspected of assassination attempt," she read aloud as she looked down at the letters boldly emblazoned across the front page.

"Han'i daughter?" she repeated. It had taken a moment for the meaning of the words to hit her, but now they did so with terrible force. "But that's..." Tokimo trailed off, one conclusion being drawn to another. If everyone saw this, Tokimo thought...if other people her age saw the newspaper....

"Seisui! This can't be happening!" Tokimo shouted as she turned around and ran back to the kitchen. Why, today, of all days, to be late? Maybe she could still find her in time. Maybe she could get to her before someone else did...

"I'm leaving Mom--" Tokimo announced urgently as she ran back to the kitchen. "Gottagobye!" she blurted as she dashed through the hallway. She ran back to her room and grabbed Kouken's limp, sleeping body; he let out a loud screech as Tokimo grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. As she madly picked up her schoolbags and ran out the door, her mother wasn't even left a moment to respond.

Seisui... what would happen if someone else got there before she did?

Seisui walked slowly along the concrete pavement. Each of her footsteps clicked lightly on the ground; but to Seisui's ears, they pounded like drums, following her in a deadly rhythm.

She couldn't believe what was happening. She didn't want to; every consequence that emerged from what happened would be so swift and deadly that she knew there was no way she could to stop it. All she could do was march blindly forward and hear her footsteps pounding mindlessly into the ground.

"Seisui!" a voice called out behind her. "Seisui, wait up!"

Seisui stopped; could it be Tokimo? She prayed that it was; Tokimo's presence was the closest thing to relief that she could hope for. Seisui turned her head to look behind her. Two long, pink pigtails streamed from behind Usako's head; close behind her, Hiroshi was struggling to catch up as well. The Asteroids, surprisingly, couldn't be seen.

Usako waved animatedly. Of all people, this was the one Seisui least wished to see; she turned back around and looked downwards. She kept walking forward; above all things, she mustn't cry. She mustn't cry....Showing Usako that she was unhappy to see her could destroy her cover once and for all.

"Seisui," Usako gasped as she continued to approach. "Wait up. Stop for a minute."

Seisui stopped but didn't turn around. Usako stood beside her, gasping for breath. Hiroshi soon followed; he put an arm around Usako and, if anything, was breathing even harder.

"Seisui," Usako continued, beginning to regain her breath, "Seisui..."

"What?" Seisui asked weakly. "You keep saying my name, but you aren't telling me anything."

Usako regained her breath; she stood up straight, and Hiroshi soon followed her. She just stood beside Seisui for a moment; neither of them saying anything.

"Did you see it?" Usako asked fearfully.

"Yeah," Seisui replied tersely, her voice wavering.

"I'm sorry," Usako said, beginning to weep. "I'm so sorry." Hiroshi took Usako's hand. He didn't dare comfort her more--not when Seisui had much bigger problems on her mind.

"It's okay," Seisui replied, a barely audible edge to her voice.

"I shouldn't have told them you ran off," she repented. "I should have lied."

"You don't have to lie," Seisui replied with little feeling. "It wouldn't have mattered what you said, anyway. They were already convinced."

"It's all my fault," Usako sobbed, ignoring Seisui's consolance.

"You did what you could to defend her," Hiroshi reassured her. "there was very little you to could do to remedy what was simply a bad situation."

"Seisui...can you ever forgive me?"

Seisui said nothing; though Usako's crying was beginning to attract stares, and it appeared that the mention of Seisui's name had not gone unnoticed. Soon people began to stand around, appearing to mind their own business as much as possible, but clearly paying as much attention to the scene as they could get away with.

"Usako," Seisui began dully, "Usako, people are beginning to notice us."

Hiroshi looked around; now that Seisui had mentioned it, the fact was becoming increasingly more obvious.

"Usako," Hiroshi told her gently. "We'd better pick this up sometime later. Okay?"

Usako wiped away her tears and nodded reluctantly. Seisui began to walk forward again; Hiroshi and Usako followed close behind her. Seisui tried not to pay attention to the increasingly large amounts of people staring at her and whispering to each other. Whispering, Seisui knew, meant that people were starting to pass information along; the group who knew what was going on, or thought they knew what was going on, would slowly get larger and larger.

"Hey," A tall, brunette boy walked up to Seisui. He couldn't have been out of high school; his dark, navy blue uniform was an assurance of that. Seisui looked up at him, trying to appear composed despite the fear that was rapidly rising in her heart. It was not long before a small crowd of uniformed boys was blocking Seisui's path; the crowd around her seemed to thicken, and whispered voices of surprise and loathing floated eerily around her.

"We heard you and your little friend talking," he informed her. "You're the one, aren't you? We heard your name."

"Who?" Seisui asked reluctantly, looking downwards.

"You know. The one that attacked the queen. Sailor Titan, was it?" he laughed mockingly. "Pretty funny. The daughter of Han'i is a Sailor Senshi."

"I didn't attack the queen," Seisui denied, pausing fearfully. "I didn't."

The boy smirked and came nearer to Seisui. He knew he had the upper hand. There was nothing Seisui could say, nothing she could do, that wouldn't antagonize her as the perpetrator of the crime.

"Yeah, whatever. We all know about your family, Han'i. We all know what kind of a person your father was."

With this, the crowd thickened even more; there was no pretending left, and people just stood around and stared with a distant fascination.

"What about my family?" Seisui protested. "What about my father? You didn't know him. You were too young to even know anything about him!"

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," he chuckled. "So, what do you think your first words were?"

"It's none of your business," Seisui replied shakily, her voice giving way.

"Kill the queen," one of the other boys chimed in. "She chanted it when she was just a baby. Kill the queen! Kill the queen! Kill the queen!"

"I did not!" Seisui sobbed, "I didn't! I didn't!"

"She tried to kill the queen, and she'll pay for it!" one of his followers shouted.

"Get away from Seisui!" Usako suddenly shouted. "She's done nothing to you! Just leave us be!"

"Oh yeah?" The head boy asked, walking toward Usako and pulling her forward by her light blue collar. "And just who the hell are you?"

"Stop it!" Hiroshi interjected. "Let go of Usako!"

The head boy turned somewhat nonchalantly toward Hiroshi, still holding onto Usako with one hand; Hiroshi ran toward him, but before he could even think of landing a punch, the boy pushed him roughly onto the sidewalk with his free hand. Hiroshi landed rather uncomfortably; he sat upright on the pavement, cringing in pain.

"As I was saying," The boy continued nonchalantly, turning back toward Usako. "Just who the hell are you, anyway?

"My name is Usako!" she replied somewhat valiantly, despite her position. "I'm Seisui's friend."

"Another killer, eh? Did you plot the murder together?"

"Don't you dare talk to Usako that way!" Hiroshi shouted, standing up somewhat limply and clenching his fist.

"Yeah, whatever." He responded, throwing Usako against Hiroshi and sending him falling back onto the hard pavement. "Just tuck your tail between your legs, Spot, and keep outta this. This is between us and the queen killer."

The boy turned back toward Seisui and began walking toward her. Seisui backed away in fear, but she was between him and his followers, and they soon pressed her close in between them and her antagonist.

"Get away from her!" Usako screamed, pulling at the boy's sleeve. "Get away from Seisui!"

"I told you to stay out of this," The boy replied. "But evidently, you two aren't good listeners. You guys," he continued, motioning to two of his friends. "Keep them from interfering."

The boys nodded and walked toward Usako and Hiroshi. Usako backed away fearfully; the first boy slammed Usako squarely on the head. Seisui flinched with the thud of his fist impacting against Usako's skull as she heard the disjointed fwump of her body falling unconscious to the pavement. Seisui cried, not because Usako was hurt, but because it was all so pathetic; Usako was a coward, and she should have known she was a coward, instead of making a pretense of justice.

Hiroshi punched the second boy in the face as he approached him, leaving a large red mark on his cheek. Seisui was surprised Hiroshi was capable of even that; his stature was smaller and weaker than that of most girls, not to mention his exceedingly short height. The boy, unsurprisingly, did little more than flinch before he returned a swing twice its force to Hiroshi's head and sent him crashing to the ground.

And so that was the end of their pathetic resistance, Seisui thought. She had learned long ago that trying to put up a real fight against a group of thuggish boys was a lost cause, and trying to put up a fight against even two was impossible for two people as weak as Usako and Hiroshi. Without the power of the royal family, they were nothing.

The boy turned toward Seisui again; his followers held her arms on either side of her.

"Come on," he encouraged Seisui. "Admit to it. Tell me you're Sailor Titan!"

"I'm not Sailor Titan!" Seisui shouted, refusing to give in. It didn't matter anyway; no matter what she said, nobody else cared.

The boy punched her squarely in the cheek.

"Tell me the truth!"

"That is the truth! I'm not Sailor Titan!"

He punched her again. Seisui flinched as little as she could bear; at this rate, she would loose a tooth.

"I'm not Sailor Titan!" she sobbed.

He punched her again.

"I'm not! I'm not! I'm not!" she wailed. "I can't say it! I won't say it! It isn't true!"

"Stupid bitch has a fighting spirit," the boy observed.

"Should we try something else?" One of the boys asked nonchalantly. "Maybe if we dragged her through the stre--"

His sentence was cut off as he fell abruptly forward onto the pavement, his muscular body making a large thud as it crashed unceremoniously to the ground. The group of boys looked up from where he had fallen.

"Let go of Seisui!" Tokimo demanded, "or I'll kick your ass, Tokimo-style!"

The boys looked critically at each other; the sight of a five-foot-one girl was hardly enough to scare them.

"Go home, little girl," the head boy replied. "we're trying to take care of a problem here."

Tokimo immediately gave him a punch in the stomach, which, although not very powerful, succeeded in scuttling him backwards a few feet.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed.

Tokimo didn't bother wasting any more time explaining or beating up the stupid prick that had harassed Seisui. Realistically, she knew she had no chance of taking on this many people all at once. Instead, she headed straight for the boys who were holding Seisui's arms; the four of them were wide open. They looked a little wary as Tokimo barreled toward them, but for the most part unafraid; Tokimo didn't look like much of a threat.

There were some things that Tokimo had picked up that she hadn't learned in karate class. Most people would have called them cheap shots; Tokimo decided that they were just getting straight to the point. So Tokimo hit the first of the three boys clear in the groin. After the first painful shot, the other four boys loosened their grip slightly; Tokimo took advantage of their disgust and pulled Seisui away by her half-freed arm. Before Seisui had even realized what had gone on, she was barreling down the sidewalk toward school, away from the five boys; and, for the first time in her life, saved from torment.

Tokimo must have run down a good two or three blocks past the crowd of onlookers and antagonistic boys before stopping; by that time, everyone, bullies and curious spectators, had given up trying to follow the two girls and gone on with their daily business. She took a few huge, gasping breaths of air; she was a very fit girl, but the effort of dragging Seisui along had taken its toll.

After she had regained her breath, she hugged Seisui.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I only just saw the newspaper."

"It's...okay," Seisui replied, regaining her breath. "It's not your fault that they were picking on me. I probably shouldn't have gone into the palace in the first place."

"It's not your fault!" Tokimo protested, letting go of her. "You were the one doing the right thing. The Queen needs to be gotten rid of! After what she did to your dad, they could never have cause to criticize you!"

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme?" Kouken asked. "The queen herself seems to have little at fault. It is merely her granddaughter who is our cause to worry."

Tokimo restrained the desire to throw her purple backpack crashing into the pavement.

"You heard what she did! Seisui's dad... he... he's a mindless zombie 'cause the queen waved her magic wand and wiped away all the nastiness in him!" she exclaimed. "You heard about it yourself! Don't you care about Seisui's dad?"

"What happened in Seisui's recent past is none of my concern," Kouken explained. "Those are Seisui's problems. However, Seisui's personal vendetta has gotten in the way of our real mission; her unrestrained break into the castle may have ruined us all. Both of you have let your personal feelings toward Councilor Han'i keep you from focusing on killing Usako. Once she's gone, our mission will be complete; Diana's rule will be prevented."

"So you are suggesting that it is perfectly fine if Serenity rules tyrannically, as long as Diana does not," Seisui said, a slight hint of anger in her voice.

"Who are you to say that Serenity's rule is tyrannical? Your father suffered a grievous injustice, but many people during the Rainbow Millennium suffered far worse; and before the Queen took the throne on earth, thousands of people were suffering from highly corrupt justice systems. Admittedly, her rulership isn't flawless; but is it really worth killing her over? Is the injustice done to one person enough to overthrow an entire form of government?"

"If your father had been purified," Seisui responded, struggling to retain the fury in her voice, "then you wouldn't say such things. You could never understand!" Seisui's voice wavered, her anger mingling slightly with tears. "No one understands."

"There are plenty of people who understand," Tokimo rejoined. "There were lots of people who suffered because of the queen. Think of the Great Purification! That was the whole planet! That's more people than have ever been killed in one place, at one time, ever!"

"They weren't killed," Kouken retorted. "They were purified."

"Close enough, isn't it?!" Tokimo snapped. "Purification, death...they both destroy you! What's important isn't your body, it's your soul! Seisui's dad is gone forever. He just sits around the house like a corpse that never got buried!"

"Fine then," Kouken hissed, "Do what you want. But do it after our job is done! Once you've killed Usako, the queen is as good as dead, anyway. Her offspring will never succeed her, and the crystal will die."

"But we can still kill her afterwards?" Tokimo asked.

"Do what you want," Kouken replied, his patience wearing thin. Tokimo seemed, like a child, to have little conception of the weight of her actions; as if killing Neo Queen Serenity were no different than merely ousting her off the throne. But he had had enough of trying to argue with Tokimo; she never listened, unless she liked what she heard.

"See, Seisui? So let's get rid of Usako real quick," she said with a smile. "Don't worry. Your dad won't have been purified for nothing. Because of it, we know just how evil the Queen really is!"

Seisui nodded. "Thank you, Tokimo, for saving me. You don't know how many times..." Seisui paused nervously for a moment, afraid to recall her own memories. "How many times I limped to school."

"When I saw the newspaper," Tokimo explained, "I knew the kind of stupid crap people might pull on you. And the way they all just stood around and watched...." she clenched her fist and frowned in disgust. "It makes me so mad! I can't stand people who just sit back and let others suffer. So don't thank me. Helping you out was only the natural thing to do." Tokimo frowned and looked at Seisui's face; she looked pretty roughed up. Those boys must have hit her several times before Tokimo arrived. "We'd better get to school, Seisui. I'll bring you to the nurse. Erik will understand, he's the most laid-back teacher in the school. You need an ice-pack for that. You know, one of those nifty things that's squishy even though it's as cold as ice? I always wanted one of those things....My mom never bought one, even though I got in a lot of fights when I was in Shiwaumi. She always said that ice was just as good and it didn't cost anything."

"That's okay--It's not bad enough to go to the nurse's office." Seisui paused. "But I never knew you used to get into fights."

"Oh yeah. All the time." Tokimo laughed. "I was real short, though. So a lot of the time I lost. Then I took karate, and I learned how to kick ass--"

"Tokimo-style?" Seisui interjected.

"Yeah! That's right."

"Why did people beat you up?" Seisui asked. She felt guilty asking Tokimo about such a touchy issue, but Tokimo looked like she thought it was no big deal.

"They didn't really beat me up," Tokimo replied, "I beat them up. The bullies used to pick on kids, you know; I couldn't stand it. So I tried to beat them up. I was walking to school one day when I was six; there was this big, I dunno, maybe 16-year-old guy, and he was picking on some little freshman. I got real mad and I tried to beat him up."

Both Seisui and Kouken widened their eyes in surprise.

"When you were six?" Kouken stuttered in shock.

Tokimo nodded. "Yeah. He laughed at me. After that, he shoved me real hard in the other direction and told me to stay out of it. I scraped my knee pretty bad, but that was it. I was real pissed! But he stopped harassing the girl. That's how scary Tokimo is!"

Seisui laughed.

"Then when I was older and I knew karate, I stood up for the other kids. If someone was getting beat up, I was always there to give 'em one right where the sun didn't shine!" she explained enthusiastically. "Usually people weren't that grateful that I'd helped them out, though. They'd just kind of give a lame thanks and run off. That's 'cause they were scared of Karate Mastah Tokimo!"

"Why were they scared of you for helping them out?" Seisui asked.

Tokimo faltered a little bit. "Well, it's like I said earlier. I don't think it was so much that they were afraid of me. I think it was 'cause they had forks up their butts and they thought I was weird or stupid or obnoxious." She grinned. "But stupid people like that don't count. So I don't let 'em bother me."

"Then why did you help them?" Seisui asked in puzzlement.

Tokimo shrugged. "I dunno. I just didn't like seeing people get beat up, I guess. Mean people suck. And if people didn't like me, I wasn't going to be malicious about it; even though they deserved it! Not unless they went out of their way to be mean. It was the people who were bullies that I beat up."

"How can you do that?" Seisui asked.

"Do what?" Tokimo asked.

"Just go around beating up people who are mean. Where do you get the courage?"

Tokimo shrugged. "How could you barge into the castle and assault the queen in her own bedroom?"

Seisui blushed. "I'm not sure," she replied sheepishly. "I guess I was angrier than I was scared. After what she did to my father..."

"Well, I'm too angry to be scared, too," Tokimo replied matter-of-factly. "When I saw those buttheads beating you up, I didn't even think about what I was doing." Tokimo paused for a moment, a sudden realization hitting her. "Crap! I could've transformed and smashed them to pieces! That sucks! I didn't even think of it!"

"It's a good thing you didn't!" Kouken replied, flabbergasted. "Just think of what would have happened if you had!"

"Yeah," Tokimo agreed reflectively. "I couldn't have said "I'm gonna kick your ass, Tokimo-style!" if I had transformed, 'cause they would know who I was. And without my catch phrase, the coolness would be entirely lost! So it's a good thing I didn't."

"No! That's not it at all!" Kouken sighed in exasperation. "If you had transformed and saved Seisui, it would have brought even more suspicion on Seisui--it would practically be proof of her being Sailor Titan. What motive would a strange, unfamiliar Sailor Senshi have for rescuing a random girl?"

"Umm..." Tokimo paused, "'cause it's wrong to beat defenseless people up?"

"I'm sure thousands of people are beat up every day," Seisui informed her, "and no one ever rescues them."

"Well, they should!" Tokimo objected, stomping her foot in enthusiasm. "It's just icky, how many people are beat up every day by stupid jerks! If I could, I'd beat up every last one of them with my mastah skillz!"

"That's not the point," Kouken responded hastily. "The point is, people would have even more reason to suspect Seisui if you came to her rescue as Sailor Charon."

"But people don't know about Sailor Charon," Tokimo protested. "I could pretend I was Sailor Titan; after all, there aren't any pictures of Sailor Titan floating around, are there? My being there would, if anything, work for Seisui--not against her."

"If you weren't smart enough to think of transforming," Kouken replied indignantly, "I certainly don't think you could have come up with a plan that complex during the time that you were running to save Seisui."

"I could have," Tokimo defended herself, folding her arms huffily. "But it doesn't matter, anyway. I saved Seisui, and that's what's important. So let's get to school as soon as we can; once we get there, we won't have to listen to Kouken anymore. Right, Seisui?"

Seisui smiled nervously.

"Now come on," Tokimo said, "Let's go!"

Tokimo grabbed Seisui's hand and began walking back down the sidewalk. The first bell was only five minutes away, but Tokimo knew she could get excused if she was bringing Seisui to the nurse after a fight. She had gotten away with that one a few times before.

"Don't be scared when you get to school," Tokimo reassured Seisui, "If anyone says anything, I'll beat 'em all up! The whole school, if I have to! Even Erik!"

"Erik...?" Seisui asked dubiously.

"Yup!" she responded confidently. "Even Erik!"

Seisui decided not to argue with Tokimo on this one. If she was in a particularly bad mood, Seisui could almost imagine her beating up Erik, however impossible she knew it must be. Besides, Tokimo's confidence was enough to inspire her to make the best of the rest of the day; after all, with Usako temporarily out of commission, she probably wouldn't have to see her for the rest of the day. And that was enough comfort to negate the hatred of the ignorant masses.

Yamiko had one thing dead set in her mind as she walked to school that morning: stay out of it. At first, warning Usako had seemed like a good idea; someone had to, she figured, and however unwilling a participant she was, she had trouble with the idea of sitting down and watching Seisui and Tokimo plan bloody murder. But even that was becoming increasingly too much to bother with. After all, the Crimson Eagle seemed pretty dedicated to Usako's defense. If he was going to pick up the slack and prevent the princess from getting massacred, there was no reason why she had to get mixed up in this insanity. She had enemies enough; Seisui, Tokimo, Usako...who knew? With their less than friendly parting last night, she might even be hated by the Crimson Eagle soon. So it didn't really matter if she warned Usako or fought against Titan and Charon; no one believed her or liked her anyway.

And it was with that mindset that she found Usako and Hiroshi lying on the pavement.

From the look of the scene around them, there had definitely been an incident of some kind. There weren't many people around, but those that were there were looked on with interest and mumbled amongst themselves uneasily. Yamiko stopped in front of the couple; she really, really didn't want to help them. After all, why should she help them? Surely, someone else would pick up the responsibility.

Yamiko glanced around; no one was stopping to help them. The only people around were looking at her, as if they expected her, the first random person that walked up, to help out. Why weren't they helping? Was there some reason why they didn't want to get involved with whatever had gone on before? Yamiko became uneasy; helping them would draw attention to herself, that was certain. But then, not helping them would probably draw even more attention to her, and of the negative kind. And that, she decided, was far the worse of two choices.

Yamiko knelt down beside Usako; a large bump was beginning to form on her head, and she looked pretty beat up. Yamiko nudged her slightly. She didn't move; she continued to lie in a restful, dreamless void that appeared so peaceful Yamiko almost wished she could exchange places with her.

"Wake up..." Yamiko encouraged her, shaking Usako more violently. "Come on..."

Usako didn't open her eyes. Yamiko hesitated for a moment, then slapped Usako quite sharply across the cheek. Usako let out a low groan and opened her eyes unwillingly.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, peering around her.

"I don't know. I just got here myself. But whatever was happening before is over now."

"Seisui!" Usako shouted urgently, pulling herself up rather uncomfortably and looking around in panic. "What happened to Seisui?" she asked Yamiko.

"Seisui? I don't know. I haven't seen Seisui since yesterday. Why, was she involved?"

Usako looked at Yamiko for a moment, confused as to her relation to her lonely and rather unpopular friend. After peering at Yamiko for a moment, the realization of her identity suddenly hit her.

"You're Yamiko! You're the one that used Seisui!"

"I never used Seisui," Yamiko replied in annoyance, beginning to regret her decision to help Usako. "I don't know what Seisui has been telling you, but it isn't the truth."

"Seisui never told us anything," Usako retorted. "It was easy enough to tell."

"There are some things about Seisui that I think are easy enough to tell," Yamiko rejoined, a edgy note in her voice. "And yet you seem rather blind to them."

Usako didn't reply; she gave Yamiko a warning glance and walked over to Hiroshi, shaking him and calling his name. It took a while for him to wake up; when he did, he sat up with the same dazed expression as Usako had had. Usako hugged him in relief.

Yamiko decided that she was obviously neither wanted nor needed. She continued to school so she wouldn't be late for class.

"Wait," Usako called out as Yamiko began to walk toward Goban high. "Wait up a second."

"What do you want?" Yamiko asked impatiently. "I wouldn't think you'd be interested in much of anything I have to say," she added.

"Do you think Seisui is Sailor Titan too?" Usako asked. "Is that why you said that to me?"

"I know that Seisui is Sailor Titan," Yamiko replied.

"You're lying!" Usako snapped. "How could you know? Even if she were Sailor Titan, why would she tell you?"

"Think of who we're talking about!" Yamiko replied. "This is Seisui. And there is only one thing Seisui hates more than Serenity's daughter; and that's Serenity herself."

"If that were true, she wouldn't be my friend!"

"She would if she had something to gain from it," Yamiko told her. "I've known people like her."

"Of course you've known such people!" Usako replied. "You're one of those people! You used Seisui! You're the one responsible for her self-hatred!"

"Don't talk to me about self-hatred!" Yamiko interjected, anguish resonating in her voice. "I know more about that than you'd ever dare. And it's none of your business, anyway. Seisui gets everyone's sympathy because of what happened to her--not that it was even that bad. So her father was demoted...I can't see why that's worth crying and whining over."

"That's easy for you to say!" Hiroshi snapped. "I don't see you getting beat up on the way to school in the morning!"

Yamiko paused. "Seisui was..."

"Don't you read the newspaper?" Usako replied scathingly. "Now everyone knows 'the truth' about Seisui. Everyone is against her! I tried to save her....who knows where she is now? I don't want to think about it." Usako paused, a note of pain in her voice. "Seisui is blamed for murder because of me."

Yamiko wasn't aware of what exactly Usako was talking about, but she couldn't help being intrigued. The newspaper, evidently, would yield results as well as inquiring Usako as to what had happened; and the former was certainly the more preferred means of seeking out the information.

"I have to go to class," Yamiko hastily interjected. "This isn't my problem, and I'm not going to get involved. Just watch out for Seisui."

Yamiko turned around and ran off before Usako had the chance to respond. She didn't want to hear Usako defend Seisui. Why were people defending Seisui, anyway? She was the one in the wrong. Yamiko was in the right, and now everyone was against her. What had she done to deserve any of this? A tear unwillingly fell down her cheek. After her parents had died, she had been expelled from private school. A poor student, unstable, unfriendly. Why was the same nightmare repeating over and over...? Why was Seisui--a violent, over-emotional killer--getting love and sympathy?

To Part B