Empire of the Sun
By Sophia Prester

Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Author's notes are at the end of the chapter


Chapter Two: A Backwards Glance



Saturday, June 30
4:02 a.m.


     Rei Hino rose every morning at four to spend an hour or two 
meditating in front of the shrine fire. After following this 
practice for nearly a decade, she hardly even needed an alarm clock 
anymore. This morning, however, the little electric alarm beeped at 
her for two minutes straight before she realized that the noise was 
not that of a drunken leprechaun jumping up and down and making rude 
suggestions. 

     Fortunately, that odd little dream-snippet didn't quite drive 
away the memory of another, far more significant dream.

     As she did every morning, Rei splashed her face with cold 
water, then put on the crisp white chihaya and the red hibakama she 
had laid out fresh and clean the night before. Switching from her 
"Totoro" nightshirt to her traditional miko garb was an essential 
part of readying her mind for meditation. She had done something 
like that every morning ever since she could remember. There was 
always some action that signified that she had put away the child 
and had become the adult. That was just how it was.

     Sometimes, she was tempted to skip her morning routine, but 
today, the thought never crossed her mind. Rei grabbed the journal 
she kept by her bed and headed to the kitchen for some tea. 

     She'd had an unusually vivid dream last night, with images and 
sensations that were only just now starting to fade. Fortunately, 
she had her dream-journal. She had learned from experience to make 
notes about what she saw right away, even if it was the middle of 
the night.

     She yawned so hard that her eyes watered. Maybe two cups of tea 
were called for this morning. She could use the extra time to review 
her notes.

     Had she really stayed at Mako-chan's until midnight? The time 
she'd spent with the Senshi had changed her in more ways than just 
the mystical. She was finally--if grudgingly--learning how to play. 
The best part of the evening was watching Usagi having such a happy 
time. For the past year, it was as if she had reverted to the way 
she was over three years ago, when the slightest crisis could reduce 
her to tears. 

     Although she knew that she shouldn't think that way, Rei truly 
hoped that Galaxia was experiencing eternal torment somewhere. A 
tiny shred of her mind could remember what it was like to be 
reanimated by the rogue Senshi as a living weapon to be turned 
against the woman to whom she had dedicated her life. Rei bit her 
lips together as she firmly pushed that scrap of memory aside. Usagi 
had forgiven Galaxia, so Rei should be able to forgive her as well, 
shouldn't she?

	Perhaps, but that was easier said than done.

	Once the tea was ready, Rei knelt at the table and looked 
through the journal. Last night's dream had not seemed threatening--
if anything, it had been pleasant. If she thought in any way that 
the dream signaled danger, she would have gone right to the fire, 
regardless of what time it was, and then she would have contacted 
the other Senshi, alerting them all to possible danger and asking 
Michiru to consult her Deep Aqua Mirror. Even so, while her notes 
did not suggest any kind of threat, they were very confusing.

	**Women. 5-6? Serenity/not Serenity. Serpent--lady--dragon? 
human? Mirror-lady. Armor/spear--lion of Saint Mark. Mother-->crows. 
Leaves and flowers-->"horned god"??? Senshi? Sealing?**

	The last note was the word "old," underlined three times with 
such force that her pencil had torn the paper.

	Rei read the words over and over, drumming her fingers 
viciously on the table. Was it so much to ask, being able to 
understand what she herself had written down? The more she tried to 
remember anything concrete, the less sense the notes made. Well, if 
it was anything important, it would come to her during meditation. 
Aided by fatigue, she slipped easily into a meditative state. She 
dwelled in a state of emptiness for a while, relaxing her mind until 
neither curiosity nor anxiety nor excitement could distract her. It 
was crucial that she not try to force her mind to dwell on the 
images she wanted to remember, and that she just let the images 
arrive...

	... Rei as Sailor Mars walking down a pillared hallway carved 
from veinless marble. NeoQueen Serenity was waiting for her at the 
other end. She seemed impossibly tall to Rei, and her hair was much 
paler than she remembered...

	... a waiting room--no, the idea of a waiting room. Anonymous 
chairs, dark carpet, low tables, and plate glass windows. She was 
both anticipating and dreading the arrival of whoever it was that 
would come through the door...

	... something she couldn't quite see. Darkness with undulating 
waves moving through it, something alive, waiting, watching, always 
waiting. Somehow, through the vision, it noticed her, considered 
her, dismissed her...

	... a woman hunched over and screaming, all but obscured by a 
whirlwind of sakura petals and ice, Rei's own stab of bitter 
satisfaction rising high above the screams...

	... immense trees that formed a living cathedral. There was 
something or someone there watching, waiting, and perhaps judging. 
At the far end of the cathedral, a moss-covered hummock of earth 
formed a crude seat. A man clad all in black sprawled in the seat, 
clutching a mortal wound in his side. Next to him a crown made of 
ivory? of wood? of bone? lay shattered on the ground...

	... red sandstone walls stretched up to a lavender-blue sky. A 
voice like the peal of a bronze bell rang across the sky, declaiming 
a single word. *Harmonia*. Fear. Triumph. Sorrow. Relief. A searing 
pain in her forehead...

	... a drunken leprechaun shrieking at her and poking her in 
the arm...

	Rei awoke with a yelp. Her grandfather was leaning over her, a 
stern yet affectionate look on his face. "Rei-chan, why don't you go 
back to bed? It won't hurt for you to miss a day's meditation."

	"Grandpa?" Rei touched her forehead. It stung! That pain was 
no vision or dream. When she lowered her hand, she was not entirely 
surprised to see ash on her fingertips. The fire was lower than it 
should have been after only a few minutes' meditation, and one of 
the logs was sparking violently.

	Her grandfather sighed and helped her to her feet. "You fell 
asleep in front of the fire. I got here just in time. It looked like 
you were going to topple right in. You didn't even wake up when that 
spark landed in your bangs."

	She stared at the fire. If Grandpa hadn't been there, she 
would have fallen face-first into the fire. Right into the coals. A 
host of what-ifs played through her mind, images of herself 
disfigured, blinded, all of her hair gone...

	Her grandpa seemed to sense her distress. "One of the logs was 
a little green, and it was kind enough to send you a spark to wake 
you up." He ran a bent, ropy hand through her bangs and across her 
forehead. "No damage done. The ash is from the fire, not from burnt 
Rei-chan."

	"Grandpa, I'm so sorry. I should never have been so careless 
as to..." She tried to stifle a yawn. "I haven't fallen asleep while 
meditating since I was a child! I'm sor--"

	"Rei-chan, there's nothing to be sorry about. You're young. 
You're supposed to go out and have a good time once in a while. Go 
on, get some sleep. Punishing the body isn't going to do the spirit 
any good."

	"Oh. Okay." Bed was sounding like a good idea. In any event, 
it was much more appealing than self-recrimination. "Wake me in a 
couple of hours, would you, please? Good night, Grandpa."

	"Good morning, Rei-chan."


                             #  #  #


	Grandfather Hino watched as his granddaughter shuffled back to 
bed. Such a strange, serious girl, he thought for perhaps the 
thousandth time. She was spiritually gifted, that much was clear. It 
was high time he took a more active role in shaping that gift. If 
she went into deep meditation with her mind wide open to any passing 
influence the way it had just been, there was no telling what might 
happen to slip in through the doors she might innocently leave ajar. 
Falling asleep in such a state was even riskier--and possibly fatal. 
The person who awoke from that state might not be the same person 
who went to sleep.

	He glared at the ash on his hand and cursed himself as a 
coward. It looked like he may have already put things off too long. 
The ash that landed on her forehead was no random smudge. He felt 
bad for erasing the mark, but there was no point in Rei accidentally 
seeing it in a mirror and getting anxious.

	He would tell her about it later, of course, once he had a 
chance to figure out why on earth the shrine's fire would try to 
brand his granddaughter with the astrological sign for Mars.



8:30 a.m.


	Pancakes or sleep? Usagi hoped that would be the biggest 
dilemma she would face today. So far, sleep was the clear-cut 
winner. Once the aroma of her mother's banana pancakes made it up to 
her room, however, all bets were off.

	ChibiUsa was already wide awake, and sitting up in bed so she 
could see the pink egg and the picture she had drawn of her parents. 
The two girls, still carried away by the thrill of seeing one 
another after a whole year, insisted on sleeping in the same room 
that first night. After they spent their birthday together, however, 
it was likely that both would be thankful for their separate rooms.

	"Do you like your present, Usagi?" ChibiUsa asked for what 
must have been the thousandth time.

	"Mmm. Love it," Usagi murmured. She was lying on her stomach, 
and her pillow muffled her voice. "It's a great picture. It's one of 
the nicest things you've ever given to me." She giggled. "It's one 
of the only things you've ever given to me."

	A pillow whapped her across the back of the head. "That's not 
true! And you still owe me a birthday present!" shouted ChibiUsa. 
Then, a moment later. "You really do like it, don't you."

	"Of course." Usagi rolled over and slid up in bed so she could 
lean back against her headboard. "It was nice of your... of me... to 
frame it. I almost wish it wasn't so fancy, though."

	ChibiUsa gave her a puzzled look. "I thought you liked jewelry 
and fancy things."

	"Oh, I do, but I think Mom and Dad would wonder how you could 
afford a solid gold picture frame. It's too bad, because I'd love to 
show them your picture." 

	The frame was gorgeous, and the egg... gorgeous didn't even 
begin to describe it. How on earth could she show her parents a gift 
that looked like it had been stolen from a museum? What had her 
future self been thinking? As an experiment, Usagi squeezed her eyes 
shut and concentrated. *I will remember to use a wooden frame. I 
will remember to use a wooden frame.*

	She opened her eyes. The frame was still gold. So much for 
writing mental notes to her future self. Maybe she really *couldn't* 
change the future. It was all set in solid gold and written down in 
crayon. The smiles of the couple in ChibiUsa's picture mocked her 
from across the room.

	"Usagi, are you all right?" asked ChibiUsa. 

	"Oh, just forget about it, squirt. I'm about ready for 
breakfast, what about you?"

	As if on cue, the strains of "Happy Birthday" wafted into the 
room along with the aroma of banana pancakes. Usagi and ChibiUsa 
stared at each other in surprise, then delight, swiftly followed by 
horror. Usagi jumped out of bed, nearly tumbling headlong as her 
feet caught in the blankets. She looked around wildly, her ponytails 
flying. The singing grew even louder. She tossed a used handkerchief 
over the egg, but that didn't hide it completely. After a moment's 
frantic thought, she swept together a pile of manga from the floor 
and plopped them in front of the egg and the picture. Once she slid 
her radio a little to the right, the two objects were hidden from 
view.

	Ikuko-mama shouldered the door open. She was carrying a 
breakfast tray and singing just a little bit off-key.  "Happy 
birthday, girls," she said once the song was over. Then she looked 
at Usagi who was still standing there with her hand on the radio and 
a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face.

	"Dear, I know that I've been after you to tidy up in here, but 
you shouldn't be cleaning your room on your birthday!" She put the 
tray down on the desk and gave Usagi a kiss on the cheek. "Still, it 
is sweet of you."

	She went over to the bed and gave ChibiUsa a long hug. "And 
happy birthday to you too, sweetie," she said, her voice muffled by 
ChibiUsa's hair. "I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to see you last 
night, but I just couldn't stay awake." Ikuko backed off from the 
hug just a little, gazing at ChibiUsa the way Mamoru had just the 
other day. "Mako-chan said you'd grown, but I had no idea! Stand up 
and turn around for me, dear. Would you?"

	ChibiUsa obediently stood up and executed a wobbly pirouette. 
Her cheeks were nearly as pink as her hair.

	Ikuko shook her head in wonder. "I can never get over how fast 
you children grow up. In just a couple of years you'll be as tall as 
Usagi."

	Both Usagi and ChibiUsa struggled not to laugh. ChibiUsa had 
been waiting for this growth spurt for nearly 900 years.

	"How long did you know about this, Mom?" asked Usagi. "I had 
no clue that ChibiUsa was planning to come back in time! Uh, in time 
for my birthday, I mean."

	ChibiUsa rolled her eyes, and Usagi shook a fist at her, 
careful not to let her mother see.

	"Mako-chan and Minako-chan told me about it just a couple of 
weeks ago. I was so excited when they told me you were coming to 
visit!"

	"I'm sorry I didn't call you myself, but I was afraid that 
Usagi might overhear. She's such a snoop, isn't she Ikuko-mama?"

	"I am not! I just have very good hearing, that's all," Usagi 
huffed.

	Ikuko had a plate of pancakes for each girl, plus a bowl of 
miso soup for herself. "It's just us girls this morning," she said. 
"Go ahead and get started, and then you can tell me all about the 
party last night."

	While she waited for ChibiUsa to hand her the syrup, Usagi 
once again wondered how Luna-P was able to convince her parents to 
accept ChibiUsa in their lives. ChibiUsa herself said that she 
didn't know exactly how it worked, but it allowed Ikuko, Kenji, and 
Shingo to accept her as family whenever she entered their time, and 
to conveniently forget about her whenever she returned to her own. 
As she contemplated this for all of ten seconds, something in the 
back of her mind (metaphorically) started jumping up and down and 
waving frantically, trying to call her attention to something or 
other. It almost worked, but just as a (metaphorical) light bulb was 
about to go off in Usagi's head, ChibiUsa finished with the syrup 
and Usagi's attention was consumed by the pancakes, which were then 
consumed by her.

	In between huge bites of pancake, Usagi and ChibiUsa recounted 
the events of last night's party. Most of the talk centered on the 
presents and the food. ChibiUsa showed off all of the cute clothes 
she had gotten, and wheedled Ikuko into going with her to exchange 
them for larger sizes. Ikuko thought that the idea of the "get Usagi 
into college" gifts was sweet, but the only one of them that she 
openly admired was the salon gift certificate.

	 What really impressed her were the presents that Usagi had 
received from the Outer Senshi. Usagi encouraged her to try on the 
sakura-petal scarf. It looked stunning with Ikuko's violet hair, and 
Usagi told her so.

	"You can borrow it anytime you want, Mom," she said.

	"Isn't it usually the daughter who borrows clothes from the 
mother?" Ikuko asked jokingly. "I have to say that your friends have 
excellent taste. Those earrings you got from Haruka-san are 
exquisite! I don't even want to think about what they must have 
cost."

	The Shiseido cosmetics were impressive, but Ikuko was more 
interested in the giver than the gift. "I still can't believe that 
you know Michiru Kaiou! And you usually think of classical musicians 
somehow being, I don't know, distant somehow, but Kaiou-san really 
is the sweetest girl. How did you ever meet her, anyway?"

	"I met Michiru when we all went to visit another school." 
There was no need to mention that they were sneaking onto the Mugen 
Academy campus at the time. "After that, we kept on running into her 
and Haruka," and getting smacked around with World Shakings and Deep 
Submerges, but that would take too long to explain, "and after a 
while we ended up becoming good friends." Going through the end of 
the world together did tend to draw people closer.

	"Everyone should have at least one interesting friend," said 
Ikuko. 

	"Do you have any interesting friends, Ikuko-mama?"

	"ChibiUsa!" exclaimed Usagi.

	"I'm not *that* boring, ChibiUsa-chan! I do have one friend 
that you could call interesting, but I haven't spoken to her in 
nearly a year. She's always so busy! Anyway, I keep meaning to give 
her a call. You've met her before, Usagi, but it's probably been 
over ten years since you've seen her." The grin on Ikuko's face was 
slyer than any Usagi had ever seen there before. The grin slipped a 
little as Ikuko seemed to remember something. "There's an 
interesting story she could tell you about me," she said softly.

	"Really? Does she have any pictures of you wearing ugly 
clothes from the seventies?"

	"Ha! You wish. Actually, the story involves you, too, Usagi." 
Ikuko stood up. "Are you girls almost finished with breakfast? I 
need to go downstairs and make sure that your father and brother can 
get something to eat before we leave for the amusement park."

	"Where are Dad and Shingo, anyway?" asked Usagi. Her father 
was always up early and it wasn't like Shingo to miss food.

	"Your father has to pick up the car from the mechanic. It's a 
good thing we got it in there before the brakes went for good. He'll 
be back in a little while. Shingo's still asleep, if you can believe 
it."

	"Hey! How come you don't get on his case the way you did with 
me?"

	"I do 'get on his case,' as you put it, on school days. You 
taught me that trying to wake a fifteen year old on a Saturday 
morning is an exercise in futility. Even if he does get up, he 
wouldn't have a civil word for anyone."

	"Are you saying you're grateful I was a pain?"

	Ikuko reached out and ruffled Usagi's bangs. "Oh, you were 
never a pain, sweetheart. Just very, very hard to wake up. We'll 
have to wake him soon, though, if we want to get to the amusement 
park before it gets crowded."

	"Can I call Hotaru, and see if she can come along, too?" asked 
ChibiUsa.

	Ikuko demurred, and Usagi suspected that she was hoping not to 
have to share ChibiUsa's company quite so much quite so soon. 
Eventually she agreed to the request, but with one stipulation: "If 
Haruka and Michiru say it's all right, then Hotaru can come with us 
if she wants."

	Usagi did not know that a person's jaw could actually drop in 
surprise. It was a good thing that ChibiUsa's mouth was not full, 
otherwise Usagi might have witnessed her very first live, in-person 
spit-take. 

	Usagi tried to hold in a laugh, but it came out as a snort. 
ChibiUsa had missed all of the drama when the rest of the Tsukino 
household finally figured out the truth about Hotaru's unusual 
living arrangements and foster parents. Even now, Shingo couldn't 
look Haruka in the eye without his face turning as red as a boiled 
ham.

	ChibiUsa's expression changed from surprise to confusion, and 
Ikuko's hand flew to her mouth in alarm. "You... you do know that 
Haruka is a girl, don't you?" 

	Usagi flopped over on her stomach, laughing hysterically and 
pounding her first into the mattress, and Ikuko grew even more 
alarmed. 

	"Oh, dear. Was I not supposed to say anything? I thought they 
were, well... 'out'. They still use that term, don't they?"

	"It's okay, Mom," said Usagi, wiping tears from her eyes. "You 
didn't say anything wrong. It's just... oh, if you could have seen 
your faces!"

	"You should have seen your *father's* face when he finally 
realized that Haruka wasn't a boy. I honestly thought he was going 
to have a coronary." Ikuko sat back down on the bed with the two 
girls. "It is rather an... unconventional living situation, and one 
I'm not sure if I'd approve of, if I didn't think so highly of 
them." She ran a hand down one of Usagi's ponytails, smoothing it a 
little. "I have to say, your father and I weren't sure about those 
two at first, but we trust you--and your friends. Also, I suppose 
they are unusually mature for their age, and Hotaru seems happy 
enough."

	Usagi could tell from the forced cheer in her mom's voice that 
she was still less than happy about the strange little household and 
her daughter's connection to it. But she also knew that her mother 
was making a sincere effort to understand and accept a way of life 
different than the one she'd been taught to view as normal. Usagi 
put her arm around her mom's shoulders and hugged her to her side. 
"Don't worry about it, Mom. It is a little different, but after a 
while you just can't imagine them being any other way."

	ChibiUsa was now the one to look anxious and a little unhappy. 
After a little prodding, she finally confessed what was on her mind.

	"I don't know what's wrong, but last night Haruka and Hotaru 
were acting like they didn't even *like* each other. They even 
started to get into an argument out on Mako-chan's porch."

	In the privacy of her mind, Usagi uttered a few choice curse 
words. She was hoping that ChibiUsa hadn't picked up on the tension 
that had built up during her absence.

	"I wouldn't let it worry you, ChibiUsa-chan," said Ikuko. 
"Let's just say that I know from personal experience how moody, 
exasperating, demanding, and immature girls in their early teens can 
be." 

	Usagi noticed the mischievous twinkle in her mother's eye, and 
only pretended to swat her with a pillow. 

	"I don't remember much about being that age," Ikuko continued, 
"but I do remember wanting so badly to be a grown-up and for my 
parents to take me seriously and to let me show them that I *was* a 
grown-up." Usagi nodded in agreement, and ChibiUsa started to relax.

	"As a parent, there's a part of you that bursts with pride 
every time your baby takes another big step forward, but there's 
another part that dies inside because each step takes her a little 
further away from you. It's even harder when you know that they're 
making a mistake and that they won't believe you until they find out 
for themselves. You want your babies to stay babies forever, but you 
have to let them go and let them grow, if they're going to be truly 
happy."

	"So," said Usagi, "I guess that means that you and Dad are 
perfectly okay with me marrying Mamo-chan." She batted her eyes. 
"After all, you were the one that said that you have to let your 
baby go, right? And you did say that you wanted me to be happy."

	Ikuko fought back a smile. "Actually, just forget I said 
anything. Your father and I have decided that locking you in the 
attic until you're forty makes much more sense." Ikuko got up and 
put the dishes on the tray. "Sweetie, Mamoru-kun is a wonderful 
young man, and we do trust you to make the right decision. We just 
want to make sure that you've had enough time and experience for you 
to be sure that this *is* the right decision for you." 

	She paused on her way out of the room and turned to face her 
daughter. "Of course, if it does look like you're about to make the 
wrong decision, there's always the attic," she said brightly. She 
then swept out of the room, cackling like the Wicked Witch of the 
West.

	Even as she laughed and shooed ChibiUsa off to go call Hotaru, 
Usagi boggled at how much had changed over the last few years. Back 
in middle school, it was hard to think of her mom as anything but 
the purple-haired witch that constantly nagged at her for bringing 
home bad grades, or wasting her allowance at the arcade, or for 
oversleeping. She had never imagined a day when she and her mom 
would talk about clothes and makeup (and boys!) or be able to tease 
each other like girlfriends.

	Maybe, just maybe, she could tell her mom about her other 
life. Maybe she would understand. After all, she was almost willing 
to accept the idea that two young women could be the foster parents 
of a fourteen year old girl.

	Some things, though, were far more difficult to accept. Usagi 
was still not certain that she accepted this destiny that had landed 
so heavily on her. It was especially difficult after her battle with 
Galaxia. Even now, a year later, she still felt like throwing up 
whenever she thought about the Galaxy Cauldron and what she'd 
learned about the loneliness and sorrow that lurked in her future, 
waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

	It's like watching a horror movie, she thought. You know 
there's something nasty in the woodshed, but the characters go in 
there anyway. You know that they're going to die, and you know it's 
going to be horrible, but you can't do anything to stop it. You know 
what's going to happen, but you don't know when and you don't know 
how.

	Usagi hated horror movies.

	She hugged herself tightly and allowed her face to twist in 
pain. I can avoid this fate, she thought. If I know what's going to 
happen, then I know what I can do to change things. Everything is 
going to work out just fine. I know it. I am *not* going to cry. 
It's my birthday and I am not going to cry and I am not going to 
think about that stupid, *stupid* picture frame, and why oh why 
didn't it turn to wood? I *know* I can change the future! I can!

	After a few moments' release, Usagi sat up straight, shook the 
tension out of her arms and shoulders, and went to get dressed. 
There was all day today to look forward to, after all, and she was 
determined to enjoy every last bit of it.



9:15 a.m.


 	"Keisuke! Do med students have classes on Saturday?"

	Keisuke did not even glance up from his computer screen as a 
bleary-eyed Taiyouko stormed past his desk on her way to the vending 
machines. "Good morning, Seidou-san. I already called the registrar 
at Keiou. The recording says they don't open again until eight o' 
clock Monday morning."

	Taiyouko put her coins in the machine, then gave it the extra 
thump required for it to release a can of coffee. She then went and 
sat on the edge of her desk, which was set head-to-head with 
Keisuke's. A stack of papers slid to the floor. Taiyouko ignored 
them. 

	"I tried that too. I wanted to know if it was worth my while 
stopping by the campus and trying to catch him." She popped open the 
can of coffee. "You've had a chance to read through the file, then?"

	Keisuke nodded. He had worked with Taiyouko for four years 
now, and they could read each other well enough to know what the 
other meant by a certain question or statement, to follow the 
other's logic, and to call the other one a damned idiot when 
appropriate (although Keisuke would have left out the "damned.") 
They also knew each other well enough that Taiyouko did not have to 
explain how important this case was to her.

	"How do we handle things if another case comes up?"

	"We work two cases," said Taiyouko, "and hope that the 
prosecuting attorneys don't ask us for anything else on the Seta and 
Aoshima cases." She'd juggled as many as four at one time, and never 
complained once about the workload. "I don't know why, but I'm not 
comfortable with letting this case sit any longer than we have to. 
So, if our murderers continue this seeming trend of taking the 
summer off, we may as well blow through as many leads as we can 
find. Check the phone books if you haven't already for this Mamoru 
Chiba."

	"Done, and sorry. We'll have to wait for Monday, unless a 
computer search through unlisted numbers turns something up. I 
already ordered the report, in case you were wondering."

	Taiyouko continued to sit on the edge of her desk as she 
guzzled her coffee, seemingly unaware of the furtive glances of the 
other detectives, each in his conservative suit and tie. As a 
concession to dress code, Taiyouko was wearing a beige linen 
pantsuit, but even though she had taken it fresh from the cleaner's 
bag that morning, it already looked as if it had been slept in. By 
afternoon, it would look as if it had been slept in by a family of 
hyperactive ferrets.

	"I'm hoping it's just an unlisted number. If he's subletting 
from someone, we'll have to wait, and that could be a problem. 
Monday we have those Americans coming in, remember? I'll probably 
have to spend all my time keeping some testosterone-poisoned NYPD 
Blue from gunning down jaywalkers." She tipped the can to get the 
last drops of caffeine. "I'm wishing I hadn't agreed to 
participate."

	Keisuke shrugged. "Things have been slow. How were you to know 
that Harada-san would hand you this case?" He flipped through the 
pictures from the crime scene, wincing as he saw the photographs of 
the child. Keisuke had four children of his own, and Taiyouko would 
have bet good money that he was seeing other faces superimposed over 
the one in the pictures. 

	"Are you thinking this was a professional hit? Someone went to 
a lot of trouble to hide the identities of these people."

	Taiyouko shook her head. If it were a pro, they could simply 
look through the lists of "usual suspects."  She lobbed the empty 
can across the office, where it clattered into a metal trash can, 
startling one of the office ladies. 

	"Sorry about that!" she called. "I'd be surprised if it was 
professionals," she said to Keisuke. "If it were a pro, there 
probably would have been some rumblings in one of the syndicates at 
the time. The real pros wouldn't balk at killing a kid, either. For 
all they knew, Mystery Boy might have woken up after a few days in 
the ICU and started naming names, or at least giving some fair 
descriptions."

	"Didn't you say you thought this was connected to another 
case?"

	Taiyouko glared at her partner. "I was practically a rookie," 
she said. "I didn't know from shit back then." She flicked her eyes 
towards the other people in the room, who were doing their best to 
look as if they were not eavesdropping. "Later," she mouthed.

	One of the interns approached the desk. She was immaculately 
but not prettily groomed. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was 
freshly trimmed, her makeup safely neutral, and her navy blue blazer 
and knee-length skirt were the kind guaranteed to be appropriate for 
any occasion from a wedding to a funeral. The black shoes were a 
little clunky, a less-than-perfect compromise between fashion and 
being able to walk.  She stood with her eyes down, waiting for 
Taiyouko to initiate the conversation.

	I used to act like that, thought Taiyouko. Am I ever glad I 
don't have to put up with that crap any more.

	She got to her feet. "Mishima-kun, is it?" she asked. "Can I 
help you with something?"

	"Yes," said the girl. "Saori Mishima. I--I'm in the criminal 
justice program at Keiou..."

	Taiyouko raised an eyebrow, acting surprised even though she 
already knew Saori's transcript and application by heart. "Good 
program. It says a lot about you that you got in."

	Rather than the expected blush, Taiyouko saw a flash of 
triumphant pride in the blue-green eyes. A good sign, that. "Yes 
ma'am. Thank you. I apologize for interrupting you, but I... I just 
wanted to say that I hope to have the chance to work with you while 
I'm here." The sentence, begun with confidence, ended in a sudden 
rush of words. "I'm sorry to act like some fan-girl, but it's 
wonderful to see a woman who's come so far in...in this profession."

	Keisuke coughed discreetly. "Well," said Taiyouko dryly, "I 
hope you're looking for professional inspiration, not personal 
inspiration. Of course, I'm a pretty good object lesson in what 
*not* to do. By the way, Saori-kun, whenever someone flatters you, 
assume that they want something. It's a valuable lesson."

	Saori blinked, as if unsure if she was being teased, rebuked, 
or given some sort of cryptic advice.

	There was an awkward moment as Taiyouko waited for Saori to 
fill the silence. She didn't. "If you want to work with me," 
Taiyouko continued, "be forewarned that my reputation for being a 
total bitch is not exaggerated." She allowed a smile to peek out. 
"I've got to baby-sit one of these idiot Americans we have coming in 
next week, but I'll see if I can set aside some time to talk with 
you while you're doing your internship."

	"Thank you, Seidou-san." Saori bowed. "I would be honored."

	"Was there anything else?"

	"Pardon?"

	"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I'm not 
particularly busy right now." Taiyouko spread her arms wide open to 
illustrate her generosity. She also kept her face unreadable as 
Saori fidgeted and smiled just a little too cheerfully.

	"N-no. Nothing else. Thank you for your time, Seidou-san."

	"She's got a lousy poker face," muttered Taiyouko as the girl 
retreated, "but she's no dummy. It'll be interesting to see where 
she winds up a few years from now."

	"Well, that was interesting," said Keisuke. "Where do I sign 
up for your new fan club? Do I get a little badge?"

	"Heaven help anyone who holds *me* up as some sort of idol. I 
was wondering when she'd walk by here."

	Keisuke rolled his eyes. "You're going to make me ask how you 
knew that, aren't you?"

	"Ooh! Two sarcastic remarks in a row from Detective Takamori! 
Guess I'm finally getting to you, huh?" Instead of sitting back down 
on the desk she finally settled into her chair. "All I meant is that 
if Mishima-kun is in the intern program, she's probably a third-year 
student, just like a certain someone else." There was no need for 
her to remind him that Saori Mishima attended Keiou. "Mishima-kun 
strikes me as one who keeps her ear to the ground, and I've seen her 
take a glance at what's on top of people's desks when she thinks 
they're not looking."

	"Ambitious girl."

	"Ambition's what they're calling it these days? Anyway, I'll 
bet you a cheap lunch that she knows our Mamoru Chiba, and she came 
over here to tell me but chickened out at the last second."

	"No doubt she was too much in awe of your inspiring presence."

	"Shove it, Keisuke. Let me know if anything turns up among the 
unlisted numbers." 

	In the meantime, there were other things she could do to move 
them forward on the case. Taiyouko dug out a battered road atlas 
from the bottom of her file drawer. Unless someone had cut the brake 
line while the car was sitting at a restaurant or gas station, 
chances were that the couple had lived somewhere near the site of 
the accident. Maybe they had neighbors. It was time to start 
pavement-pounding. It wasn't glamorous, it wasn't exciting, but 
given enough time and shoe leather, it produced results. The first 
time around, she had only just begun canvassing the area when the 
case was closed. Maybe she could enlist Mishima-kun to help.

	Actually, that would be a very good idea. From the look on the 
girl's face right before she switched over to suck-up-to-the-mentor 
mode, she had recalled something that had made it seem like a *very 
bad* idea to pass any information along to Taiyouko. Was it 
something as innocent as not wanting to sell out a friend to the 
police, or was there something more? Taiyouko decided not to do 
anything about it--yet. She'd have a better idea of what was going 
on once she finally met Mystery Boy face to face. 


                           #  #  #


	Kenichi Harada looked through the slats of his office blinds 
while he waited for his caller to take him off hold. Detective 
Seidou was sitting on her desk--again--although he had politely 
suggested several times that it was not decorous. She merely agreed 
with him, then continued to go about things in her own way, as 
usual. He saw that Keisuke Takamori was looking through the case 
file. One of the interns walked up to ask Detective Seidou a 
question. Oh, good. Seidou finally got up off her desk.

	His caller came back on the line. "My apologies, Harada-san, 
but there was a crisis that required my immediate attention."

	His voice left no doubt that this crisis completely justified 
leaving the commander of the Tokyo police's homicide division on 
hold for fifteen minutes.

	"No need to apologize, sir. When you were called away, I was 
just explaining that I had no trouble reopening the case as you had 
asked. I also passed along the information on Mamoru Chiba that you 
provided."

	"Good. Who will be handling the case?"

	"Detective Taiyouko Seidou." Harada headed off any objections 
before they could be voiced. "I realize she has a reputation for 
being difficult, but she has an otherwise perfect clearance record, 
and does everything exactly by the book. Her actions may be a bit 
unorthodox, but Internal Affairs has never had any reason to go 
after her."

	He did not add that I.A. would jump at the chance to go after 
the obnoxious and arrogant little detective who had stepped on a few 
too many toes, and who treated all suspects with the same vitriolic 
contempt, regardless if they were street-thugs, sweet little old 
shopkeepers, or well-connected politicians. He also did not add that 
Taiyouko's method of 'playing by the book' had led to a constant 
revising of 'the book' to plug up a galaxy of loopholes and 
exceptions whose existence no one had even suspected before. No one 
other than Detective Seidou, that is.

	Out in the office, he could see one of his senior detectives 
beckon one of the office ladies to his desk, even though she had 
both hands full of papers from the copier. Seidou's strident voice 
carried through the glass as she told the detective to get off his 
fat, lazy ass and get his own damn coffee.

	"I've heard of Detective Seidou." The caller laughed. "Do you 
remember that one street interview they televised? I would swear 
that every fourth word was censored. I'm actually pleased that you 
assigned such a... vivid personality to the case. It will attract 
the kind of attention we want. It also helps that she has such a 
good record. And speaking of which, what do you mean by *otherwise* 
perfect?"

	Harada winced. He hadn't realized he'd made that slip. "She 
was the primary on the case when it was first opened," he admitted. 
"I thought she would be eager for the second chance, and maybe not 
as likely as others might be to question why the case was being re-
opened." He took a deep breath. "She's handled some... very 
sensitive cases without letting any information get out to the 
media." Heaven help us if she ever decides to write a book, he 
thought. Many Japanese were still under the impression that serial 
killers were primarily a western phenomenon. "Given what I know of 
the way she thinks, she probably thinks I've given her some sort of 
reward."

	There was a long pause on the other end. "I see."

	"Is that a problem?"

	"No, but it's good that we know of it now. I just hope she 
doesn't make too much of a fuss when we ask you to take the case 
from her again."

	"Sir?"

	"Don't worry about it, Harada-san. Give her free rein, give 
her any help she asks for, but not so much that anyone might 
comment. We'll let you know when it's time to shut her down. We need 
her to draw attention, but at a certain point it may become a 
liability."

	Harada sighed. "I understand, sir." He didn't though, not 
really. These politicians (the word was uttered like a curse in his 
mind) played too many games. Unfortunately, it was necessary to do 
his share of playing if he ever hoped to become Chief of Police.

	They had never asked him to do anything *wrong*, Harada told 
himself. Opening a cold case certainly wasn't wrong. It may even 
bring a sense of closure to a grieving family. And, if the case was 
so old, it would hardly be a surprise to anyone if it were to be 
declared unsolvable and closed down once again.

	"I'm glad you do, Harada-san." The cool voice, which always 
sounded so confident and serene when delivering a public address, 
had taken on a strained exactness. "One of my colleagues recently 
informed me that I have something of a personal stake in all of 
this, so I will be watching Detective Seidou's progress very 
closely. I will call you back if there is anything else you need to 
know. Good day, Harada-san."
 


6:25 p.m.


	Many things had changed for Mamoru Chiba over the last three 
and a half years. The dreams of a mysterious princess that had 
haunted him for years without reason had gone away, only to be 
replaced by a reality far stranger and far more wonderful than he 
could have ever hoped for.

	He could summon roses with a single thought and use them as 
throwing darts that could punch through metal and would negate 
almost any magic. He could heal others with a mere touch, not as 
well as Hotaru, perhaps, but if he could combine that power with his 
medical training, there would be much he could do. And if Asanuma's 
theory was correct, he could even bring a sort of spiritual healing 
or blessing.

	Then, of course, he had died and been resurrected not just 
once, but twice. He could sense the health of the earth and 
sometimes even the history of an object by just touching it. He had 
befriended a floral alien and a winged unicorn, traveled to Elysion-
-the strange spiritual world that mirrored and sustained this world-
-and discovered that he carried within himself the golden crystal 
that marked him as rightful king of this earth.

	It would be nice if someone could tell him what that meant. In 
comparison to Sailor Moon and the other Senshi, he felt like the odd 
man out. Literally.

	It wasn't that bad, he reminded himself. He'd grown accustomed 
to being isolated, disconnected, rootless. His past life--his past 
lives, really--remained a blank to him. That had plagued him for 
years. He moved from orphanage to foster home to boarding school, a 
paper trail serving as a poor substitute for a family history. Even 
the paper trail was little good, coming to an abrupt end when he 
tried to follow it back before his eighth birthday. 

	Assuming, that is, that what he thought of his birthday really 
was his birthday. He didn't even know the name he'd been given when 
he was born.

	In the past three years, however, he had learned to let go of 
a past he had never known. During that time a kind of family had 
grown up around him.

	A row of framed photographs on his bookshelf bore testimony to 
that fact. Some were of the other Senshi in civilian form--a picture 
of Haruka in her racing jumpsuit, a professional portrait of Michiru 
with her violin. Setsuna had given him a photo taken of her and 
Hotaru when Hotaru was still a pudgy toddler. 

	The other picture he had of Hotaru was from the last time 
ChibiUsa was here, and the two of them were wearing brightly 
flowered sun hats and mugging outrageously for the camera. It was 
amazing how much they'd grown since then. He was more grateful than 
ever that he'd begged the photo off of Ikuko-san. He had two other 
photographs of ChibiUsa, and each time he saw them, he was amazed 
anew at the fearful and protective love he felt for his future 
daughter. 

	He had another picture of the entire Tsukino family, and one 
of Usa-ko, Makoto, Rei, Ami, and Minako dressed up for a school 
dance. Even though she did not attend their school, Rei had dressed 
up to be in the picture with her best friends. He was closer to some 
of Usa-ko's friends than he was to the others. Minako he did not 
know very well at all, and he found it hard to reconcile her 
flighty, boy-crazy attitude with her professionalism as leader of 
Usa-ko's guardian soldiers. To be honest, he still found Rei more 
than a little intimidating. Out of the four, he was probably closest 
to Ami and Makoto. He and Ami sometimes got into marathon phone 
sessions about what he was studying in med school and some of the 
things she was hoping to study. As of last week, she was fairly 
certain she wanted to concentrate on pediatric neurology. The week 
before that, it was geriatric oncology.

	Makoto, his fellow orphan, had appointed herself as a sort of 
little sister. She'd chewed him out more than once when she thought 
he was being a jerk or an idiot, and made sure he didn't forget 
things like Usa-ko's birthday, Valentine's Day, their three month 
anniversary, Groundhog Day, etc. Lately she'd embarked on a Keep 
Mamoru Fed campaign in collusion with Ikuko-san. Given how well the 
two women cooked, he was hardly about to complain.

	Of course, there were many pictures of Usa-ko. For a long 
time, he had refused to keep anything of a sentimental nature 
around. Nothing in his life had ever been permanent, so what was the 
point? Finally, he had been able to admit that he now had something 
in his life that was as stable as the earth itself. He was no longer 
afraid to admit to himself how much she mattered to him.

	There was a formal school portrait of Usa-ko in her uniform. 
Then there was a glamour shot from when she and Minako had gone to 
some photography studio at Harajuku. The dress, the soft focus, and 
the hazy lighting made her look uncannily like the princess in his 
old dreams. His favorite, however, was a picture of Usa-ko with her 
mouth open for a huge spoonful of banana-split and an oh-my-god-I-
can't-believe-you're-going-to-take-this-picture-and-you-are-so-dead-
if-you-do look on her face. It had been worth getting the glob of 
whipped cream ground into his hair.

	He was mildly surprised when the doorbell rang. It wouldn't be 
Usa-ko or any of the others. They knew that he would be leaving his 
apartment in a few minutes to take Usa-ko out for her birthday 
dinner.  

	He was even more surprised when he saw who it was. "Saori-san! 
What are you doing here?" He winced. That was no way to greet an old 
friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out the way it 
did. You were just, um, unexpected, that's all."

	She looked him up and down, as if making note of the untied 
tie and the unbuttoned cuffs of his dress shirt. "I'm sorry if I 
caught you at a bad time, Mamoru-kun, but I need to talk to you." 

	The determined set of her face told him that she would not be 
leaving until she had had her say. He had a nasty feeling he knew 
what she wanted to talk about.

	"Come on in, then. Would you like something to drink?"

	"No, thank you." She sat down on the sofa, and Mamoru made a 
point of sitting across from her, not next to her. Even though she 
was theoretically dating someone, he often suspected that Saori 
wished that they were more than just friends. Every now and then he 
caught her staring at him, and sometimes he thought he could see a 
deep sadness in her eyes.

	"I've hardly seen you since classes started this spring," he 
said. "I'd love to catch up, but I've only got a few minutes. I have 
to leave here in a few minutes to pick up Usagi."

	"Your girlfriend?" asked Saori. "I met her once. Doesn't her 
sister have pink hair?"

	"Actually, Usagi and I are engaged now," he said, carefully 
watching her reaction. Saori had met Usagi while they were in the 
middle of all that craziness with Neherenia's circus freaks. In 
fact, Saori had herself been a victim of one of the bizarre animal 
men.

	"Congratulations!" she exclaimed, and the smile on her face 
was wide and genuine. "When are you getting married?"

	"We... we haven't set a date yet," he admitted. He noted 
ruefully that his ego was a little bit stung by Saori's lack of 
disappointment. Maybe he had misjudged her.

	Saori did not speak for a moment or two. Rather, she stared at 
him with a blank expression on her face. He was just about to ask 
her what was wrong when she took a deep breath. "This isn't easy for 
me, Mamoru-kun, and I probably shouldn't be telling you this."

	Telling him what? No matter what, Saori was always unfailingly 
polite. What could be so important that she would insist on him 
hearing her out?

	"First of all," she said, "I need you to know that no matter 
what, you can trust me, that you can trust me absolutely."

	He leaned forward. "Saori-san, what is this all about?"

	She went straight to the point. "I know that Usagi-san is 
Sailor Moon."

	Mamoru's stomach just about dropped through to the floor. 
"What? Saori-san, I don't know what--"

	She laughed bitterly and crossed her arms in front of her 
chest. "Please don't pretend that you don't know. You were there 
when that weird man with the leather fetish pulled some sort of... 
mirror... out of my chest, nailed *you* to the ground with throwing 
knives, and summoned that balloon-thing to crush us to death." She 
shook her head. "You have interesting taste in enemies."

	"But..."

	"Anyhow," she continued, "Sailor Moon showed up and when that 
balloon-thing tried to suffocate her, you called her 'Usa-ko.' 
Sloppy. Very sloppy."

	Mamoru groaned and let his head sink into his hands.

	"I told you this because I need you to know that I can keep a 
secret," she said. "I haven't told anyone else, and I won't tell 
anyone else."

	"Damn it, Saori-san! Then what *do* you want? So you know 
about Usa-ko. What do you want from me?"

	"Don't talk to me like I'm some sort of extortionist!" she 
snapped. "I came here because I... I think of you as a good friend 
and right now it looks like you might be in a whole lot of trouble!"

	What? Maybe this was some sort of dream. "Why would you think 
I'm in trouble?" he asked warily. If she knew about Sailor Moon, it 
wouldn't be that big of a mental leap to connect him to Tuxedo 
Kamen.

	She sighed. "I was granted an internship with the Tokyo police 
as part of my degree in criminal justice. I'm working in the 
homicide unit. Homicide, Mamoru-kun."

	He stared, not trusting himself to speak.

	"Your name came up in the context of an investigation," she 
said as if reciting a dictionary entry.

	"I--I don't understand," he whispered. "Why would I... Why 
would anyone suspect..."

	"I don't even know if you were mentioned as a suspect, or as a 
witness, or something else altogether!" she cried, losing her cool 
again. "Maybe it has something to do with one of your professors. 
All I know is that I saw your name on what looked like a transcript 
from the University."

	"My transcript?" He wasn't even going to try to make sense of 
this any more.

	"And you're sure you don't know anything about any of this?"

	"Of course I don't know anything!" he shouted. "I don't know 
why the homicide department would have a copy of my transcript! I 
don't even know of anyone who's died recently!"

	Saori licked her lips. When she asked her next question, she 
would not even meet his eyes. "Is it possible that this could have 
anything to do with the Sailor Senshi?"

	Mamoru rose to his feet in a surge of anger. "No! Of course 
not! Now if you're finished, Mishima-san, I think that perhaps you 
had better leave."

	Saori stood up slowly. Her face looked calm, yet sad. "I 
didn't mean to offend you," she said. "I didn't mean that I thought 
that the Senshi could ever do anything criminal. It's just that the 
detective whose case it is... well, she's this frumpy little thing 
who looks like she could be someone's kindergarten teacher, but 
she's good. *Really* good. She's the best detective on the force, 
though nobody wants to admit it. There's something about the way she 
looks at you, that you know that whatever it is you're hiding, she's 
going to find out or make your life a living hell trying, and that 
if you have done something wrong, she'll make your life a living 
hell on general principle."

	Something that Saori was not saying made its way to the front 
of Mamoru's mind. 

	"So that's why you came here to warn me. You're afraid that 
she might find out that Usa-ko..." he let his voice trail off. Just 
the idea of the police knowing the identities of the Sailor Senshi 
turned his stomach. Minako had hundreds of stories about the trouble 
she had with the police as Sailor V, each tale funnier and more 
outrageous than the last. Right now, they didn't seem all that funny 
anymore.

	So far, Saori had not said anything about Tuxedo Kamen, which 
was a small, cold comfort.

	"Even if this case has nothing to do with the Sailor Moon or 
the other Senshi, this woman has a way of finding things out. Her 
name is Taiyouko Seidou," she said, "and I wouldn't be surprised if 
she called you, or stopped by unannounced, or even pulled you out of 
class one day. She usually works with another detective named 
Keisuke Takamori. I don't know much about him other than that he's 
always very polite when he talks to me."

	"Should I warn Usa-ko?"

	Saori thought for a moment, then nodded. "I don't know whether 
or not you know any of the other Senshi, and I don't want to know, 
but if you do, you may want to tell them to steer clear of you for a 
little while so they don't get caught up in this by accident. 
Listen, Mamoru-kun. You're... a good friend, and I honestly want you 
and Usagi-san to be happy together. If I can, I'll let you know if 
Detective Seidou starts asking questions about Sailor Moon or any of 
the others."

	"Thank you," Mamoru finally managed to say. He was trying to 
tie his necktie, but his hands were shaking too badly.

	"Here," she said, as she pushed his hands aside. "I have to do 
this for Kobayashi all the time." Before he could protest, she had 
tied a perfect Windsor knot. "You know, I used to have the biggest 
crush on you when we were freshmen. I had even bought you a tie that 
I planned to give you as a gift when I confessed my undying love."

	He laughed, although his stomach was still churning. "I think 
I remember you giving Kobayashi a rather nice necktie the summer of 
that year."

	"Don't tell him, okay?" She adjusted the tie and patted it 
gently. "This way, we'll each be keeping a deep, dark secret for the 
other. And listen, I'm sorry I had to tell you about this before 
your big date, but you don't know this woman. She doesn't do things 
by halves."

	He held the door for her. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you, 
Saori-san. You've always been a good friend. I'll tell Usa-ko you 
said hello."

	"Oh," she said in mock horror, "are you going to tell your 
fiancée that you were alone in your apartment with another woman?" 
The flash of mischief faded into cold sobriety. "Seriously, though. 
Tell her what I told you. I meant it when I said I want the best for 
you both. Goodbye, Mamoru-kun."

	"Goodbye, Saori-san. And thank you."

	He closed the door, and leaned forward until his forehead 
thunked gently against the door. Was it too much to ask for just one 
lousy year to go by without their lives being turned upside down? He 
would have to tell Usa-ko about this, but it wouldn't be tonight. 
For just one night, her birthday night, the two of them could 
pretend that they were just like any other young couple in love. It 
wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.



9:10 p.m.


	The Air Canada flight landed on time. For some reason, 
however, they could not taxi to their gate right away. The captain 
said something about a mechanical problem, but he had all the 
sincerity of the recording telling you that the white zones were for 
loading and unloading only.

	So it was that Jason Wright had to sit captive on the hated 
airplane for an extra hour. He had taken an aisle seat so he could 
walk around during the excruciatingly long flight, but now one of 
the flight attendants told him that since they were on the ground, 
he had to stay in his seat until the plane was at the gate and had 
come to a complete stop.

	The older lady with the window seat grew tired of staring out 
at the runway. "First time in Tokyo, hon?" she asked.

	"No." What time was it back in Baltimore? Eight? His brother 
Josh was probably out fishing, but he could leave a message to let 
him know he'd gotten in safely and leave a number where he could be 
reached. Mom would probably be home unless she was out hitting the 
yard sales again. He would have to remember to get a phone card so 
the hotel wouldn't gouge him on the long distance. Also, once he got 
to his host family's place, he didn't want to rack up their phone 
bill by calling to check on the dog.

	"I was here a long, long time ago--back in the sixties," the 
woman continued. "I wonder how much things have changed."

	"I was wondering the same thing," said Jason. "I wish we had a 
better view from here."

	It was hard to see anything through the window since it was 
dark outside and the cabin lights were on. All he could see were the 
lights lining the runways and the shimmer of reflected light on 
Tokyo Bay. It was the same view he'd had when he left Japan the last 
time. Not exactly the thing that memories should be made of.

	"Well, there's always tomorrow," said the woman. She had 
crocheted through most of the flight, but she ran out of yarn 
shortly after they had landed, right around the time that Jason 
finished the so-so spy thriller he'd picked up in Toronto. "Are you 
here on vacation?"

	Jason wiggled his hand to indicate that this was only partly 
the case. He didn't really feel like talking, but this desultory 
chit-chat helped to pass the time. "I'm hoping to pad out my trip 
with some personal time. Maybe look up some old friends, that kind 
of thing. What about you?"

	"Oh, my husband's here on business, and we decided that I'd 
come out here and we'd travel around for a month. Sometimes you just 
need to get away for a while."

	"I know what you mean." It wasn't too late, he thought. He 
could just go through the program and keep a low profile. No one had 
to know he was here. He could just turn around and go back to 
Baltimore as if nothing had happened.

	"I'm sure your friends will be delighted to see you again. Do 
they know you're here?"

	"Actually, I probably won't have time to see them. Heck, I 
don't even have a current address for any of them."

	Laying low would be easy. But was he willing to live with that 
many unanswered questions for the rest of his life? On the other 
hand, if the answers were what he feared, could he live with *them*?

	The plane lurched forwards as the captain announced over the 
intercom that they could finally go to the gate. 

	"I'd better pack up, I suppose," said the woman. Her crochet 
paraphernalia was still spread out on her lap. She put away her 
yarn, the stack of squares she had made during the flight, her tape 
measure, and... "Do you see my crochet hook anywhere?"

	He looked around. "Is it sort of a browny-orange colored 
thing? I think it fell down between the seat cushions. Let me see if 
I can get it."

	"Oh, you'll never get your hand down there…don't worry about 
it, I've got a spare in my luggage."

	Jason looked up with a smile and handed her the hook. "Ta-
daa!"

	The woman grinned back. "I swear, that thing must have jumped 
up into your hand! I honestly didn't think you'd get that out." She 
slipped the hook into her bag, and gathered up all of the other 
stuff she had under her seat. The door to the jet way was not yet 
open, but people were already crowding the aisles. Jason sidled out 
of his seat. Standing, he was a few inches taller than most of the 
other passengers, and he didn't feel quite so claustrophobic.

	"Do you have anything in the overhead?" he asked. She told him 
which bin held her carry-on. He slid the overstuffed bag out and 
handed it to her in one smooth move even as she warned him that it 
weighed a ton and was wedged in there good and tight.

	"I don't know how you got that out so easily," she said, "but 
thank you so much. It's nice to meet such a polite young gentleman. 
I hope you get a chance to meet up with your friends. Reunions are 
always so much fun!"

	He wished he could believe that, but there was time enough to 
worry about that tomorrow. Right now, all he wanted was a good 
night's sleep.



Sometime after 11:00 p.m.


	Michiru lay awake in bed. Haruka slumbered peacefully beside 
her, her back towards Michiru. Earlier, Haruka had made some 
tentative advances, but Michiru had played hard-to-get. She agreed 
to a little back-rub and complained to her lover of exhaustion, a 
horrible practice session where she had to play horrible, awful, 
tuneless Schoenberg, and of another run-in with her mother. It was 
good to vent, and she look forward to seeing how Haruka would 
convince her to give in to her feminine wiles.

	Instead, Haruka cheerfully said that she her pit crew had 
worked on the new engine all day, and it *still* ran rough, so she 
was just as happy enough to roll over and go straight to sleep. She 
was now snoring softly.

	Now, Michiru was wishing that she hadn't played *quite* so 
hard to get. She simply could not fall asleep, no matter how badly 
she wanted to. The strange dreams she'd had the night before made 
her feel as if she hadn't slept at all. She turned over on her 
stomach, to see if that would help. It didn't.  

	If only her mother hadn't shown up unannounced at today's 
rehearsal! She had practically attacked Michiru's advisor, demanding 
to know why Michiru was being required to learn music that would 
never, ever be on a popular concert program or be a best-selling CD. 
Michiru could do nothing but stand there and fume while her mother 
made an ass of herself. The other members of her college quartet 
kept shooting her sympathetic looks, but that did little to ease the 
churning bitterness. 

	Why can't she just let me be? Why does every little thing have 
to be such a drama? Can't she understand that the music is *my* 
gift, not hers? Her mother would blow up over any perceived setback 
to Michiru's fame. In fact, she was *still* upset that her talented 
daughter had not been able to complete her high-school degree at the 
prestigious Mugen Academy.

	Haruka had nearly exploded when Michiru finally told her that. 
"You'd think that someone blew up the school just to spite her!" she 
raged. "It's a good thing you found a patron when you did, Michiru-
love."

	It was a very good thing. The terms of the patronage allowed 
for Michiru to have her own lodgings away from home if she so 
wished, in order to practice unimpeded and to have easy access to 
rehearsal facilities and expert teachers. 

	Of course, she so wished! It was like moving into Heaven. For 
the past three years, Michiru only saw her mother once or twice a 
month at most. Even that was too much, but it was a decided 
improvement. She looked fondly at the slumbering Haruka. Of course, 
there were other, even better benefits to having her own lodgings.

	If only she could sleep. Unfortunately, spending even ten 
minutes with her mother set Michiru on edge. She wished she could 
talk to Haruka about it, but Haruka would only get angry and 
indignant, making the situation seem worse than it really was. Well, 
at least Mother and I are on something resembling speaking terms 
again, Michiru thought, trying to put things in a better light.

	There was one other thing she could do to help herself relax. 
As she had done on other occasions, Michiru simply opened her mind 
and cast her awareness out onto the waters, allowing herself to feel 
the slow, regular pulse of the tides. The tides are at the command 
of the moon, she mused, and found this notion a great comfort.

	I am the tide, and the moon is my Queen, she thought, turning 
the line over and over in her head like a poem.

	She soon lost herself in the push-pull of the tides and the 
flow of the old, reliable currents that even now guided sailors 
along ancient trade routes. It reminded her of the low harmonics in 
the basses and cellos that began the first movement of Mahler's 
First Symphony, with a single sustained violin note riding above it 
all. She let the remembered music carry her up from the ocean deeps. 
As the music broke into random bursts of woodwind and brass, she let 
her mind float up into the waves. The waves followed the seeming 
randomness of the music, but as they smashed or caressed the land, a 
pattern emerged, just as a melody gradually and fitfully grew out of 
Mahler's controlled chaos, and she was swept into a joyous dance of 
wave and water.

	That's us, she thought as she felt the waves spinning and 
dipping her in their dance. That's what we help our princess to do. 
We turn the darkness and despair into light and joy. No matter how 
many times the despair threatens to pull us under and drown us, she 
calls the joy to lift us up again. The rocking lulled her into a 
deeper and deeper calm. At last, the rocking slowed to a stop, and 
Michiru was left floating in peaceful darkness, staring up at the 
stars.

	The stars. She began to drift upwards into the starry 
darkness, only vaguely aware that she was dreaming, and must have 
fallen asleep. Far sooner than would happen in reality, she drew 
near to her mother star, Neptune. But this was not Neptune as it was 
now, a failed star with a violent atmosphere and a mysteriously 
erratic magnetic field. This was a Neptune from long ago, a 
peaceful, aquamarine Neptune that sheltered the small colonies that 
had established a precarious foothold on its largest moon. 

	As she drew closer, ancient memories resurfaced. For the first 
time in her current life, Michiru could recall the names and natures 
of the smaller moons that had once been familiar sights. 

	Barren Larissa was little more than a lump of rock, even in 
the days of the Silver Millennium, but it shone beautifully in 
Triton's violet-blue sky. The relative motions of soot-dark Proteus 
and snow-bright Nereid were consulted by oracles as they attempted 
to determine the most propitious times for ceremonies and 
celebrations. The smallest moons were named in memory of those who 
had first settled this planetary system: Galatea, Naiad, Despina, 
and Thalassa. These four moonlets, along with Neptune's thin and icy 
rings, had once been a single planet-sized moon, dead and sundered 
long before the rise of the Silver Millennium.

	And then there was Triton, a planet of fertile seas and 
artificial islands renowned for their winter gardens and the 
graceful columns of their harbor walls. The magic of the Ginzuishou 
and Triton's own inner heat warmed the atmosphere to where it could 
sustain life, and the giant moon sailed along in a steady orbit. 
Michiru once more remembered the thousands of different fish that 
used to swim in the cool seas, some the color of jewels, some 
reaching upwards towards true intelligence and sentience as had many 
other creatures on Earth. She remembered diving and swimming in 
those seas, playing with her cousins and with the mer-people and 
dolphins who had joined the royal colony. She had spent leisurely 
days swimming through the underwater cities, and walking through 
terraced gardens of arctic and alpine flowers that the settlers had 
carried oh-so-carefully all the way from Earth. 

	Michiru first saw the pictures from Voyager 2 when she was in 
elementary school, long before she took on the mantle of Sailor 
Neptune. As the teacher showed picture after picture on the 
overhead, Michiru began to weep inconsolably right there in the 
middle of science class. The teacher asked her what was wrong, but 
Michiru didn't know. All she knew was that seeing those pictures 
made her feel the way she felt when her father had to tell her that 
her pet kitten had been run over by a car and was not merely lost. 

	Now, for the first time, Michiru truly understood the enormity 
of the destruction unleashed by the Silence Glaive. 

	Triton was now a frozen hell, even colder than distant Pluto. 
Giant ice volcanoes spewed rivers of liquid nitrogen and methane 
while a decaying retrograde orbit pulled the moon towards its 
inevitable doom in Neptune's atmosphere.

	Metallia's attack on the Moon Kingdom had to have been 
unspeakably terrible to justify the kind of force that could knock a 
world forever backwards in its orbit and turn its sea breezes into 
cold poison. The fragile colony islands didn't have a chance. The 
horror lingered in Michiru's mind, but this dream-tour of her buried 
memories had more to show her. It was as if someone had taken her by 
the hand and was whispering excitedly about the wonders that lay 
ahead.

	Michiru shivered with anticipation as she saw an aquamarine 
pinpoint of light rise over the horizon of the gas giant. Triton 
Castle. Created before her birth as a fortress for the one destined 
to serve as Senshi of this planet.

	Whether by miracle or design, her outpost had survived the 
Silence Glaive to remain in orbit around Neptune. Or maybe it had 
just been reborn when she was. Michiru couldn't help laughing at the 
thought of how astronomers back on earth would have reacted if 
Voyager 2 had sent back pictures of her spiral castle.

	As she drew near, the castle rose higher and higher above the 
long horizon. She had last seen it when she, Uranus, and Pluto were 
desperately trying to fend off Galaxia's attack, and she had not had 
the time to marvel at the beauty of her castle. Soon, she was close 
enough to make out the details. The towers spiraled together to a 
fine point, suggesting the organic curves of a seashell. The crystal 
used to build the castle was not shiny and faceted. Rather, it had a 
soft haze over the surface, like a piece of beach glass. Michiru had 
picked up dozens of the pale green pieces of sand-tumbled glass when 
walking along Earth's beaches. Just the sight of the smooth-rough 
walls of Triton Castle brought with it the smell of the sea.

	She wanted to drift outside the castle and look at it 
properly, but was pulled downwards into the spiral and into the 
rooms where she had spent so many lonely years. 

	They weren't the rooms she remembered from her previous visit. 
Not exactly. When she had been here a year earlier, the observation 
room at the heart of the castle looked like something out of "Star 
Trek" with its observation screens and floating control panels, its 
sleek lines and glassy surfaces. 

	This time, the floor was made of polished coral. The spiral 
columns supporting the roof were carved with schools of fish and 
topped with gilded seashell capitals, no two exactly alike. The 
domed ceiling was covered with a shell mosaic of strange sea 
creatures. Fragments of the darkest mother-of-pearl, black shading 
into purple, were the background for a multitude of jellyfish, sea 
anemones, starfish, horseshoe crabs, urchins, and strange deep-sea 
fish that were all jaw and spine and opalescent eyes.  She also saw 
seahorses, giant squid, animals that looked more like plants, 
ribbon-like eels that swam in waters that never saw sunlight, 
primitive and lumbering sharks, crystalline things that must have 
been giant renderings of plankton, trilobites, and every other 
mysterious creature that lived in the ocean's embrace.

	This was for my once-upon-a-time self, she thought. She looked 
down at herself. She was wearing her Senshi uniform, but it wasn't 
quite the uniform she remembered. There was no time for her to 
examine the differences before whoever was directing the dream 
forced her attention to the center of the room.

	Instead of a giant viewing screen, the observation room 
contained a stone basin set into the middle of the coral floor. This 
is what I came here to see, she thought. The basin was full of 
something like quicksilver, making it a living mirror that could 
send images and even sounds. Whatever she had to see was in there. 
She stepped towards the center of the room.

	*Pelagia.*

	She stopped short, startled for the first time since she had 
entered the dream. "Who's there?" 

	*Pelagia Thalasses!*

	She looked around, but could see no one. "Is that your name? 
What do you want? Who are you?"

	*Over here.*

	The voice came from a doorway on the far side of the room. She 
was certain that the doorway had not been there a moment ago.

	*Over here.*

	Michiru took one last backward glance at the pool of 
quicksilver, and went to investigate this strange door. If it was 
something dangerous, she could surely take care of it. Was she not 
the one chosen as Sailor Neptune, one of the trusted guardians at 
the gates of the Solar System?

	*Pelagia. Child. Over here! Hurry!*

	The voice sounded almost desperate. It was a woman's voice, 
but it was not one she recognized. Along with the voice she could 
hear the sound of waves lapping on a sandy shore. One impulse 
compelled her forward through the door. Another, equally strong, 
pulled her back to the mirror-pool. A choice was being offered. 
Hardly aware of making the choice, Michiru placed her hand on the 
door, and it swung open. 

	The dream changed then, as if it were a train jumping to a 
different set of tracks. To the dreaming mind the transition did not 
seem strange in any way.

	Michiru now stood on a beach. An ordinary, sandy beach, just 
like hundreds of others on planet Earth. The sky was cloudless, but 
nearly gray from the humidity. Michiru looked over her shoulder. 
There was nothing there but a grassy salt marsh, its green barely 
tinged with the rust and gold of summer's end. There were no hills, 
no buildings, no sign of life. Nothing there for her. 

	She turned with glacial slowness to look back out at the 
ocean. There was a low wooden dock there now, leading out from the 
beach and into the waves. She walked slowly and deliberately through 
the sand, not even wondering why she was now barefoot. The wood of 
the dock was silky smooth and ash gray from years of exposure to 
salt and sun. Michiru walked out to the end of the dock, enjoying 
the sun-soaked warmth of the wood beneath her feet, and when she 
reached the end of the dock, she was not surprised to find herself 
sitting in a boat.

	The wooden rowboat sped away from the dock and carried her 
swiftly over the waves with uncanny smoothness. The waves seemed to 
her to hold still, while the creaky little boat rode over them like 
the car of a roller coaster. The swells began to grow, becoming so 
steep that she feared that the boat--now just a round coracle made 
of bent branches and animal hides--would slide back down to be stuck 
forever in the troughs between the waves. Even from the tops of the 
tallest waves, the beach was no longer in sight.

	At last, the boat climbed up the sides of one impossibly tall 
wave. Michiru willed the boat to make it to the top. It teetered, 
nearly tumbling back down, then crested the wave. She gasped in 
frightened delight as the boat plummeted down the far side of the 
wave towards a whirlpool. The coracle swung around the rim of the 
whirlpool, its speed nearly pulling it free of the vortex. Then, it 
spiraled downwards, faster and faster as the vortex grew narrower 
and narrower, until at last the coracle was gone, and it was just 
Michiru, cocooned in swirling water. The vortex pulled her down so 
far and so fast that she thought that she would crash into the ocean 
floor at any second.

	*You came! Welcome, Pelagia.*

	And the depths rose up to meet her.

	Michiru's eyes fluttered open just long enough for her to see 
that the sky outside her window was starting to grow lighter. She 
could sleep a little bit longer, she thought. Haruka was still sound 
asleep, but now with her arm flung over Michiru's shoulders. Michiru 
smiled as she drifted back into sleep, wondering if the soft embrace 
she felt in real life was what made her dream of the open arms 
waiting for her at the ocean floor.



Author's notes:

In case it wasn't clear from context, "chihaya" and "hibakama" are 
the proper names for the red and white outfit that Rei always wears 
at the shrine. "Miko" is the term for a shrine maiden (not quite the 
same thing as a priestess, but close).