Niguno es necesario ni aun para ti, que por definición, eres menesterosa. No one is necessary not even for you, who by definition are so needy. Rosario Castellanos, "The Return" _______________________________________________________________________ Kinmokusei Story Chapter Four: Romantic Soul by Kotetsu _______________________________________________________________________ Over breakfast, things somehow managed to resolve themselves. Kakyuu spoke gently to them, smiled warmly, passed the tea and the marmalade around the table, buttered her toast daintily, and acted as if nothing unusual had occurred the night before. Yaten played along with the farce, deciding that it was better to forgive and forget. Taiki was quiet and cold, somewhat untalkative, but no more so than usual. Seiya, however, moped about the breakfast table with a black cloud hanging over her head; Kakyuu tried to talk to her, but she responded only with single-worded grunts. Yaten finished her breakfast and hurried away from them as quickly as she could. She didn't tell them where she was going. She merely excused herself and left. She wanted, desperately, to escape the palace compound, to hike up to the seashore, to spend the day photographing the sandy dunes and gently cresting waves. But she dared not leave the palace grounds, not in a time of danger. She returned to her own apartment instead, and fiddled with the insides of her camera, for hours on end. She mourned the loss of her imported whiskey. Moments after Yaten left, Taiki stood up and announced her departure. "I'm meeting with Adella in the library," she said. "We're working together to research this youma phenomenon." She hurried away from the table. This, of course, left Kakyuu and Seiya alone among the tea cups and jars of marmalade. But for the moment, our narrative does not concern them. Taiki found Adella in the back of the library, shelving some old books. She quickly fell into place beside the other woman, adding the help of her two hands to the chore. Adella acknowledged her presence with a mere nod of her head. "I heard that there was another youma attack last night." "Yes." Taiki paused, choosing her words carefully. "We're looking into it." "You mean, you're clueless." "Yes, well, what can you do?" Taiki shrugged. "As long as we keep doing our job - driving back the youma, healing their victims - the public doesn't seem to really care whether we ever get to the bottom of this or not. It's a dangerous attitude, and I don't like it." "Give them time. There have only been two youma, so far. There's not enough cause to panic yet." Adella grinned to herself, sardonically. "Hideaki's been waiting for you, you know. He's been staying in the library all day long for the past five days, waiting for you to come back." Taiki slammed a book back into place on the shelf. "I'm a busy woman. He should know that. Stupid minstrel." "There's a subtle difference between 'stupid' and 'foolish.' " Taiki rolled her eyes. "Where is he now?" "Lurking around here somewhere." "Right here." Hideaki's voice behind her back almost made Taiki jump out of her skin. She whirled to face him - he was waiting patiently, his guitar slung over his back as usual, a thick sheaf of musical notations and scribbles rolled and tucked under one arm. "Come on," he said, reaching rudely for her hand and pulling her away from Adella, "we have a lot of work to catch up on." "Work?" "Our music, of course. And there's some stuff that I want to talk to you about." "Hideaki, this had better be important--" He stopped, glancing up at her with wide eyes that betrayed his hurt feelings. "You don't think that our music is important?" "I do, it's just . . . that . . . " Taiki was frustrated and flustered, unable to find the right words. "Hideaki, have you been paying attention at ALL to what's going on around here?! I have more important things to worry about!" "Of course you do." His voice was softer now, subdued; but he still grasped her hand tightly in his own and pulled her forward, toward a deserted study table in the far corner of the library. "But if you don't expand your time and your interests beyond your strictly professional duties, you'll lead a dry and unfulfilling life." "What is that supposed to be, words of wisdom from the minstrel himself?" "Yes." Hideaki sat himself down at the table, calmly. Despite herself, Taiki lowered herself to sit beside him. "You know," Hideaki began, eyeing her carefully, "I finally got around to reading Dr. Cooger's book these last few days. You HAVE read it, haven't you?" " 'Studies on the Physical, Chemical, and Nervous Biologies of the Galaxy's Sailor Senshi.' We've all read it, even Seiya. It's required." "It's funny, don't you think? How Cooger's research was done hundreds of years ago, but it's never become outdated, never successfully been refuted or disproven." "Hideaki, I don't see what this has to do with--" "You know," Hideaki said again, leaning comfortably back in his chair, "that book would have been required reading for any college freshman hoping to have a degree in any field or discipline possible - arts, humanities, social sciences, law, medical, mathematics, engineering - anything, you name it. It's one of those books that you can't get through college without reading, you know? Like Mushisachui's poetry, or Frederickson's Subspace theory postulates. It's just something that everybody's expected to know something about." His eyes grew glazed, almost distant. "When Galaxia attacked, I was only fifteen years old at the time, still undecided about my future career, or even whether I would go to college or not. I dreamed of attending Northside University on a music scholarship. I wanted to play in their orchestra, or their jazz band. And now, here I find myself - two years later, somehow having aged past my seventeenth birthday while sleeping as nothing but a bodiless star seed in some madwoman's dark cauldron. So then I just realized, last night . . . There is no more Northside University music department. Most of the teachers' star seeds simply never made it back. It will take a year or more to find suitable replacements for them, especially considering the already depleted planetary population." Taiki's fist suddenly slammed down on the table. She was surprised by the force of her own anger. "What are you trying to do, make me feel *guilty* about it?!" Hideaki gazed at her evenly, and then blinked. "Did you know that you're going to stop aging soon?" "What?" "At twenty-two years old, that's when Sailor Senshi stop showing any signs of outward aging. You DID read Dr. Cooger's book, didn't you?" "Don't insult me." Taiki narrowed her eyes. "I think I understand the point of the conversation, and mister Hideaki, I really honestly thought better of you than this. Are you insinuating that my teammates and I are doing an inadequate job of protecting this planet, and that in return we receive a life that is to be somehow envied, somehow seen as a reward, however undeserved it may be?! Well, let me tell you something. Ever since my first transformation three years ago, I knew exactly what the rest of my life was going to be like. No more schooling, for starters. No college for me, ever. No professional careers or skills - there would be no time for it. I am to spend the rest of my life encased within these palace walls, concerned only with whatever youma, undead creatures, daimon, demons, or what-have-you-not is threatening the planet at this moment or the next. I'm supposed to be ready to fight at a moment's notice, always on the alert, always on the lookout, never leaving my guard down, not even for a second. I'm supposed to sacrifice my life in an instant, if it ever comes to that. And you know what? I would. I wouldn't hesitate, not even for a second, if throwing my life away meant saving the lives of my teammates, or of my Queen. And I'll continue to live this life of mine, narrow and well-defined, for many hundreds of years into the future, before I finally die. Assuming that I'm not killed by an enemy somewhere along the way. In all honesty, I wouldn't have it any other way. This is the choice that I made, and I chose the life of a Sailor Senshi. I wouldn't have it any differently, not ever." He was still staring at her, evenly and calmly. She took a deep shuddering breath, and forced herself to continue. "But at the same time . . . Well, you've read the Sol Report. You know what it was like, on Earth. The Senshi there kept their identities carefully guarded secrets from the general public, and did not enjoy the lives of privilege and prestige that the Senshi of other planets do. However, they had a different set of rights and responsibilities - that of normal, everyday, civilian schoolgirls. In addition to the burden of protecting their world from evil, they had to deal with the everyday pressures of school, social lives, family lives, you name it - it was all there, every dirty little detail. And, for the duration of most of a year, so did we. That is, my teammates and I. It was a bizarre and foreign concept to me, at first - you know, school. I hadn't actually attended a real school since I was twelve years old. I didn't realize how much I missed it. And now, when I think about what the future holds for those girls - college, careers, happy, normal marriages and home and family life - I feel a little bit jealous, as horrible as it sounds. There's a part of me, a very small part of me, that sometimes wishes I could just be . . . normal. The same. Like everybody else. And it's not just being a Sailor Senshi and having an abnormal lifespan and lifestyle, it's also . .. everything. Being too tall. Being a good student, back in grade school - I was bullied every day. Having feet that are too big. Not being able to engage in a stimulating intellectual discussion about Drotchsky's novels and essays with any of my friends. Sometimes I think that if I were normal, the SAME, as in just like everybody else . . . Sometimes I think that if that were true, I would be happier. But then I remind myself, that if that were true, then my life wouldn't have the same meaning, the same purpose, that is has now. So, yes, I will live to be many hundreds of years old, I will always remain eternally beautiful and youthful, I will always be financially supported and provided for by the government, I will never have to worry about the pressures of school or the workplace ever again . . . But think about everything that I sacrifice, everything that I will lose. School and work, they may be burdens to the rest of the world, but to us Sailor Senshi, they would be a luxury, compared to the types of things that we have to face on a day-to-day basis. You may think that we have the good life, but we don't. We're expected to fight, and to die, for the sake of the entire planet. In a way, we don't even have our basic freedoms or rights anymore. But," she said as she smiled softly to herself, "we wouldn't have it any other way." Hideaki raised one eyebrow, unaffected by her speech. "Are you done yet?" "Yes. Well?" "That was my point exactly." He wagged his finger at her, mischievously. "You have your duties and your responsibilities to worry about, I know. But if you can't break away from that for a few moments every now and then, you'll drive yourself crazy with self-induced stress and exhaustion. Besides, your artistic genius would be wasted if you became too narrow-minded and focused only on your mission." He slid some half-finished sheet music across the table toward her. "Remember this? Five days ago you said you would help me write the lyrics for the final verse." "Oh. Right." Artistic genius?! Her cheeks were blushing, she couldn't help it. She was horribly embarrassed, but at the same time, felt no particular desire to escape . . . "All right," she said finally, feigning resignation, "you win. I'll help you work on this." "Thank you." Hideaki's smile was almost childishly joyous. "But I'm still curious about one thing," Taiki said as she spread the sheet music out in front of her. "Why did you suddenly become interested in Dr. Cooger's book?" "Because I was curious about you," Hideaki answered honestly. "You're my muse, you know." Taiki chose to ignore this comment, staring downward at the papers in front of her and already scribbling lyrics and verses furiously. She prayed fervently that no passerby would be able to see the embarrassing crimson flush on her cheeks. She darted her eyes momentarily toward Hideaki, and then settled them back onto her music. It was funny. She had never realized how *short* he was before. Mizuno-san had been short like that, too. Taiki felt her thoughts slipping away from the music in front of her and sliding helplessly down a slippery slope of free-thought association. Ami's tender, kind blue eyes and soft, blushing lips. Sitting in classroom number ten in Juuban High School, rushing to scribble down the answers to an essay test, hoping that her own answers would be good enough to beat Ami's score. Lurking among the dark, dusty corners of the Juuban public library, pulling volumes of poetry out of the shelves and balancing the increasing stack of books-to-read in her arms. Tokyo, at night, in the rain. Walking underneath an umbrella. Feeling lonely and despondent. Stopping on a pedestrian bridge, staring at the cars flowing across the street down below. Puzzling over foreign concepts like four-wheel drive and stick shifts. Soba noodles in soup. Sashimi. Sushi. Tekka rolls, with soy sauce and wasabi. Trying to identify cultural identity with the use of chopsticks. Tekka rolls, again. Her mind kept returning to that thought, and her stomach rumbled. She must have stopped writing, must have been staring blankly at the composition, because Hideaki finally noticed her odd behavior. "Is something wrong?" he asked. Taiki blinked, forcing herself to return to reality. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking, that's all. Remembering." "Remembering what?" "Sushi," she said cryptically. she thought, even more cryptically. Hideaki shrugged his shoulders, and returned to the notes that he had been writing down on his own paper. He had no idea what "sushi" was, but he knew better than to press the issue. ******************** Kakyuu sipped her tea calmly, watching, waiting. Seiya stared blankly at the far wall, her food and drink lying untouched in front of her. Kakyuu suddenly slammed her tea cup down onto its saucer. Seiya blinked, momentarily startled out of her funk. "Huh? What?" Kakyuu frowned, lowering her eyes and scowling at her own teacup. "Nothing. I just felt petty for a moment, that's all." "Petty?" "Yes." Petty, selfish, greedy, stupid. Those would all be fitting adjectives to describe herself, Kakyuu thought. Imagine, the vanity and narcissism of it all! Feeling jealous, at a time like this! There was a new enemy at loose in the palace. Her Senshi and her Knights, no, even her entire planet, NEEDED her to calm them and comfort them, to be a decent and level-headed leader in a time of crisis, to not . . . indulge . . . in such frivolous, flighty, childish emotions . . . But she was jealous. Oh yes, she was jealous. Jealous of that pale-faced, lighthearted moon wench who had so quickly and easily captured her Seiya's heart and soul, and then casually tossed both aside like an old pieces of rubbish-- But, it still hurt. Every sigh, every mournful glance that Seiya made, stabbed at Kakyuu's heart a little bit further. Seiya was still blinking at her, curiously. "What do you mean, petty?" Kakyuu's hands trembled in her lap. "I mean jealously, Seiya. Jealousy is a petty emotion." "Jealousy . . . ?" Seiya rolled the word around her mouth, tasting it, feeling it. Her eyes were still blank, confused. "What do you mean, jealousy?" "Oh, Seiya, sometimes you are so . . . so . . . ." Kakyuu's hands clenched into fists. Her jaw clenched, too. Her eyes blazed. For the first time in a long time, she was ANGRY. And damn, did it feel good. Kakyuu stood up abruptly, and slammed her fists down on the table. The cups of tea and jars of marmalade jumped into the air. "Seiya, sometimes you are so CLUELESS!!!" "Me? Clueless?" Seiya blinked, and scratched her head thoughtfully. "I mean, I'm clueless about a lot of things, but could you be more specific, please? Clueless about what?" Kakyuu felt her anger dissipating just as quickly as it had overcome her. She lowered herself back to her seat, trying to salvage her grace and her dignity. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." "Oh, that's okay . . . I guess I deserve to be yelled at, after last night." Kakyuu stared at her tea again. She poked a piece of toast with her finger, petulantly, childishly. "Does your heart still ache for her, Seiya?" Seiya knew exactly which "her" Kakyuu was talking about. "Yes, although that's no excuse for letting it affect my performance as a Senshi." Kakyuu said nothing. Her silence was both an agreement, and a reprimand. Seiya continued, slowly, carefully. "I think I understand, now, what you were saying to me earlier. About how your duties as the Queen prevent you from indulging in selfish emotions. And, the same way, I shouldn't be wallowing in my own self-pity, when there's still an enemy to fight. Besides, it really doesn't hurt as much this morning as it did last night." Seiya somehow managed to smile, hesitantly, uncharacteristically shyly. "When I have you beside me, it's easier to deal with the pain." Another strange and unusual emotion was overcoming Kakyuu - smugness. Again, it felt pretty good. "I'm glad to hear that, Seiya," she said, keeping her voice neutral and regal. "I care about you, and I don't like to see you in pain." "Good, because I don't like to feel pain." Seiya leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head, somewhat back to her old self. But not quite, not yet. She turned her head toward Kakyuu, drinking in the sight of the beautiful Queen sipping her tea and smiling faintly - smugly? - to herself. As always, the sight of her Queen made Seiya's heart feel stronger and at the same time lighter in her chest. The golden rays of the morning sun filtered in through a curtained window, casting shimmering highlights across Kakyuu's crimson hair, painting her cheeks with a lovely gold flush, dappling her lips with dancing sparks and shimmers of rainbow colors. It was funny. Seiya suddenly realized that Kakyuu was indeed very, very beautiful. And with this realization came another strange sensation, gently enfolding and enveloping her heart in warmth and comfort. It was older, more familiar, more welcome than anything else that she had felt that morning. But even still, Seiya felt a brief moment of panic as she realized what was happening to her. Oh, dear. Not love. Not again . . . Wasn't it a bad thing, to fall in love with someone while still hurting from a previous relationship? Unless, of course, Seiya wasn't exactly feeling these emotions for the first time. Unless, of course, the one that she had *really* loved all along had been none other than-- <---danger---> Both heads snapped upward, simultaneously. <---DANGER---> "Not again!" Seiya bolted upright. "We just went through this last night!" "Perhaps the enemy is growing more aggressive." Kakyuu stood up, finished her tea, set her teacup down, and coughed, clearing her throat. "Kinmoku Planet Power, MAKE UP!" "Fighter Star Power, MAKE UP!" They ran together, side-by-side, toward the source of the problem. ******************** "FUDGEFEATHERS!" That was Healer, barely managing to dodge another blow from the youma's swiping claws. She only curbed her swear vocabulary because there was now a group of nervously tittering onlookers clustered at the edge of the gardens and watching the fight as if it were some entertaining spectacle. The crowd was an annoyance, true, but it still would do more harm than good if Healer unleashed her sailor's vocabulary of epithets in front of the public. This fight was located in the midst of the palace gardens; the victim was a middle-aged horticulturalist who had been tending the flower beds. "Star Gentle UTERUS!" Announcing her entrance, Maker blasted the creature from behind. The crowd clapped and cheered. Healer darted out and around the grove of trees that had been impeding her movements. She dashed around to the startled youma's backside; Maker was there, crouching on top of a low tree branch. She reached out for Healer's hand, and the smaller Senshi grasped it gratefully, swinging around and pulling herself up and on top of the branch. She crouched next to Maker, pausing to catch her breath. "Status?" Maker asked. She was carefully sizing up the youma with her eyes. Along one of its flanks was a patch of badly blistered and burned skin. She wondered if Healer had accidentally touched it there. "Bad," Healer answered, glowering at the crowd. "It's all fun and games, until one of them attracts the youma's attention, and it starts attacking *them*--" "Then we'll just have to keep it distracted, won't we?" The lumbering monster had by this time realized that the immediate source of danger was behind it, and was slowly turning around to growl at the two treed Senshi. The crowd gasped, gripped by suspense. "We've become a spectator sport," Healer muttered under her breath. "Star Serious LASER!" Just as the youma had finally finished turning around, it was attacked from behind yet again. Fighter and Sailor Kinmoku were posing together on top of a tree branch across from the youma, Sailor Kinmoku twirling her wand threateningly. The crowd ooohed and aaahed. The youma stumbled forward, dazed and confused, swaying drunkenly on both of its feet. From their treetop perch, Healer and Maker sighed in unison. "Latecomers, as usual," Maker commented, not entirely disapprovingly. Sailor Kinmoku elbowed Fighter in the ribs. "It's time to make a dramatic entrance speech, isn't it?" "Ara--" Fighter scratched her head. "So late in the battle?" Sailor Kinmoku shrugged. "Um, okay." Fighter coughed, and cleared her throat. "For interrupting this peaceful summer afternoon in our beautiful gardens, in the name of the Royal House of Kinmoku, we, the sacred shooting stars and the princess who protect this planet, will punish you!" The crowd cheered wildly. Sailor Kinmoku pressed a finger to her lips, an unconscious gesture that she always made whenever something puzzled or confused her. " 'Princess?' You're a little outdated, aren't you? I'm the Queen now, remember?" "I--" Healer cupped her hands and hollered across the gap between the trees. "You forgot to say 'piercing through the darkness'!!!" "I don't HAVE to say it EVERY time, do I?!" "But we ALWAYS say 'piercing through the darkness' or 'shining through the darkness' or 'breaking through the darkness' or--" The youma turned its head from one tree to the other, thoroughly confused and unsure which tree to attack first. Fighter stomped her foot in anger. "Fine! If you're so eager to critique the bloody speech, then next time YOU can say the whole stupid thing!" "All right, I WILL!" Healer retorted, equally as angrily. "Maybe we should write the speeches down on index cards," Maker suggested calmly. "Then we can always have them available for easy reference--" The youma finally decided that it was sick and tired of being ignored, and also decided that it was a very appropriate moment to lower its head and charge full tilt at the base of the tree where Fighter and Sailor Kinmoku stood, with the vaguely-formed goal of knocking the tree over and injuring the Senshi, or at least shaking them out of the tree like rotten fruit and then using claws and teeth to rip them both apart at its leisure. With this plan in mind, the youma lowered its head, and charged. It smashed its skull into the base of the ginyu tree. The tree wobbled dangerously. Fighter grasped Sailor Kinmoku's waist, and the two of them barely managed to keep from falling. "Holy Maresuu!" Sailor Kinmoku swore. The crowd stared in silent fear. Healer and Maker stared in stunned disbelief. The youma had knocked itself unconscious, and slid to the ground like a limp rag doll. Sailor Kinmoku and Fighter trembled on their tree branch, somehow managing to regain their balance. Then Fighter pulled her arms away from Sailor Kinmoku's waist, and laughed nervously. "Well, um . . . I guess that takes care of that. Are you going to do your thing now, or what?" "I need to get down to the ground first." She was already scrambling down the tree trunk, climbing with a surprising ease that betrayed her illicit childhood years spent climbing up, down, and all around the ginyu trees that surrounded the royal palace. In a moment, the youma was healed; the crowd went wild with applause, and Sailor Kinmoku was left holding a very confused and bewildered old gardener who wondered what exactly he had done to give himself such a nasty bump on his head. ******************** "We're setting up new safety regulations," Melinda reported. "If it appears as if a battle involving either youma or Sailor Senshi is about to occur anywhere within the palace compound, all non-combatants - that is, just about everybody - will be ordered to immediately evacuate the surrounding premises." "How are we going to enforce that?" Kakyuu asked. "Heavy fines." "Of course. That always works." It had been several hours since the last youma attack; Kakyuu had finally dismissed her Senshi, and was now alone in her quarters with Lady Melinda. "But we still aren't making any progress in uncovering the true nature of the youma attacks," Lady Melinda said, in a tone of voice that was halfway between sorrowful and grumpy. "Maker once again confirmed the presence of a Japanese character marking the creature, but other than that, we have no clues to work from - no pattern behind the attacks, no comprehensible goal or motivation behind them, and very little information on the particular breed of youma itself." "They burn when they touch the Sailor Senshi," Kakyuu pointed out softly. "Healer confirmed it again today. Before we arrived at the battle, when she was alone against the monster, she accidentally brushed her arm against it, and where she touched it, its flesh blistered and burned." "But that's still not much to go on." Melinda frowned, but it almost seemed as if she were frowning at herself. "Adella and I are working on some background research, but so far, we haven't been able to find much material of any relevance. It doesn't help that the palace library databases were damaged over the past two years, the are still in the process of being repaired." "I've heard about that. Taiki is working on that project, isn't she?" "She's supposed to be working on the database project, yes." Melinda scowled darkly. "But lately she's been shirking her responsibilities." "Oh." Kakyuu's eyes twinkled merrily. "Are you accusing her of being distracted?" "By a man, no less." "Who? What man?" "Nobody of great importance." Melinda shrugged dismissively. "Just a wandering musician leeching off the generosity of the Crown. That's all." ******************** Hideaki found her sitting alone beneath a ginyu tree in the farthest corners of the palace gardens, hugging her knees to her chest and staring off into the shadowy distance, oblivious to the creeping night shadows and singing, rustling insects that infected the gardens after the sun went down. There was no light back there, save for a few scattered fireflies; luckily, Hideaki was smart enough to bring a lantern along with him. He noticed, worried, that Taiki had brought no light source with her. She was merely sitting all alone in the dark garden, staring at nothing. She barely even bothered to acknowledge his presence. "Go away, Hideaki," she said, somewhat half-heartedly, not even turning to look at him. Hideaki chose to ignore this command, and instead folded his legs beneath himself and sat down onto the soft grass, placing the lantern down in front of him. He wasn't sitting very close to her, but it was still close enough for the lantern's light to cast flickering shadows across her face, and for the brief flashes of light that passed across her eyes to highlight the sadness and sorrow reflected in her violet irises. "If something's bothering you, I wish you would tell me about it," Hideaki said quietly. She gave no response. "I mean, we are friends, aren't we, Taiki? And that's what friends are for." Still no response. "You know," Hideaki said thoughtfully, "you really kicked that youma's arse today. I don't understand what you could be upset about." "Of course you don't." She still wasn't looking at him, was still just staring off into the distance. But at least she was speaking again. "Remember the conversation that we had earlier today?" "The really heavy conversation about Sailor Senshi, life, death, the universe, and everything?" "Yes. That one." Taiki closed her eyes. "It just hit me, today. After the third youma attack. The youma are too uniform, too similar. And the location - here, within the palace - it's too small of an area to make every attack an unrelated coincidence. So, that means that we have a new Enemy to fight, right? That's 'Enemy' with a capital E. Even Yaten's dreams point to the same conclusion. The soldier warned her about a new Enemy. Something organized, and self-contained; something big." "So?" "You know what that means. Seiya, Yaten, Kakyuu, and I - we're going to have to give up more of our lives, more of our selves, to fight this new Enemy. Heck, we might even die this time around. Of course, we're expected to be willing to throw our lives away. And we are willing to do so, like I said before. But still, it's one thing to *talk* about sacrifices like that, and another thing entirely . . . " She paused, searching for the right words. "It's another thing entirely to let the realization really sink in, that you're willing to give up your life - in more ways than one - to protect this planet." "So you're sitting here in the dark, feeling sorry for yourself." "Yes. No. I don't know. Is that so wrong, to feel sorry for myself?" She clutched her knees tighter, squeezing them close to her chest. "I just thought that we were finally going to have a happy ending, that's all." Her voice was suddenly very soft, very subdued. "I knew on an intellectual level that my career as a Sailor Senshi had only just begun, but still, I never allowed myself to feel it on an emotional level . . . until today. It just sort of hit me, all at once, after the youma battle. I knew, all of a sudden, that this was going to be the rest of my life. Battle after battle after battle, until I eventually die. Or get myself killed, whatever." "But you said that's a fate that you willingly chose." "Of course it is. I wouldn't have it any other way." "But do you ever resent your choice? Do you ever regret?" "No. I don't regret a thing. But that doesn't mean that I don't still feel sorry for myself, here, in this moment." She finally turned her head, and glared defiantly at him. "But if you don't mind, mister Hideaki, I think I'm entitled to spending at least one measly little night feeling sorry for myself, okay? You're always the advocate for venting one's true feelings, anyway. So you ought to understand." "Oh, I understand perfectly." He smiled at her. "You're a lot stronger of a person than you think." She narrowed her eyes, regarding him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?" "I can see it in your eyes. Your inner strength, your inner beauty. You have an incredible capacity for self-sacrifice. You have the most beautiful, amazing indigo eyes that I've ever seen." There was a long pause. And then, Taiki said, slowly, carefully, "Hideaki, my eyes are violet, not indigo." Another pause. "Indigo is the blend of violet and blue. There's a difference." Hideaki scratched his head, perplexed. "Really? Gee, I always saw them as being indigo." Then he shrugged, grinning bashfully. "Well, I guess you found out my secret. I'm color blind." "Really?" "Really. You see, my first ambition in life was to be a painter. But, um, I could never paint the world the same way that everybody else saw it, because I just saw it differently. I could never really express through paint the world around me . . . So I turned to poetry and music." "But your music--" "--May describe the world in the colors that everybody else sees, yes. Or at least, what they tell me that they see. I'm taking everyone's word for it, that the Queen's hair is really truly red in color." He chuckled softly. "And, you know, your sailor fuku always looked sort of off-bluish to me, although the rest of the world keeps assuring me that you are indeed wearing black. But the important thing behind music and poetry is the feeling or the emotion that it contains, that it invokes. Those intangible qualities of the world - beauty, love, friendship, trust, heroism, tragedy, comedy, you know, all the important stuff - those things transcend our physicals senses. I may use other people's perceptions of color to frame my works, but the heart and soul of my music and poetry is what I feel inside of me when I write. And that inner feeling transcends physical properties such as color." "Oh." Taiki looked away from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." "It's a shame, though, really," Hideaki said sadly. "I always thought that 'Indigo Rose' would have been the perfect romantic pet name for you." Taiki snapped her head around quickly, and glared at him again. "I don't believe in romantic pet names. They objectify partners in a relationship." "Really? I thought you would have liked them. You have a romantic soul." "Since when did *I* ever have a romantic soul?" "Oh, come now. Don't try to deny it. I can see it practically dripping from your poetry. That's why I love to compose music with you. You have a beautiful, romantic soul." Just as quickly, Taiki suddenly turned her face away from him, desperate to hide her furiously blushing cheeks from his view. "So do you," she blurted out suddenly. "What? I can't hear you." "I said, so do you. Have a romantic soul." "Oh, my. And we've degenerated into garbled grammar, now." "No, I really mean it. If music reflects the inner self of the composer, then . . . " She trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence, her face still turned away from him. She took a deep breath, gathering up her scattered thoughts. "The dreams and romance that you weave into your music are simply wonderful. They're intense, too. Intense with feeling, intense with emotion. To produce music like that, you must have a very beautiful soul." "But so far, we've tactfully avoided mentioning our outer selves, right?" Hideaki laughed, finding the idea deliciously funny. "I'm too short for you, aren't I?" "Huh? What?" "Am I too short for you?" "Too short for me to . . . what?" "Now you're just being silly." Then Hideaki clapped his hands together, his face lit with a sudden realization. "Oh, I get it, you're developing a sense of humor! Hallelujah! We're making progress." "Hideaki, I don't understand what you're talking about." Taiki closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. She was feeling the first twinges of a serious headache developing. "Oh. I'm sorry." Hideaki's face fell; Taiki didn't see it, of course, but if she had, she would have wondered if she had said something wrong. As it was, Hideaki was profoundly disappointed by her reaction to his words. He had at least expected her to be bright enough to pick up the not-so-subtle hints . . . The two of them fell into silence. Hideaki watched Taiki carefully. She sat in the dark shadow of a ginyu tree, her eyes still closed, her fingers still pressed to her forehead, her body lit only by the fitful glow of his lantern and the occasional twinkle of a passing firefly. Her tousled auburn hair fell in waves across her face, the humidity of the summer evening having caused it to break free of its normal confinement tucked neatly behind her ears. He could see circles underneath her eyes, but no noticeable slouch in her shoulders or back. Even in the darkness, even clothed with her long skirts, he could still see the well-defined outlines of her long, smooth legs and arms; he could sense the presence of the sleek and powerful muscles lying almost incognito beneath a layer of her unassuming, normal skin. Her mouth was turned down slightly in a frown of pain or concentration, or both. She was thinking deeply, about what Hideaki could only begin to imagine. Life, the universe, and everything? Knowing Taiki, it was probably an even deeper topic than that. Hideaki found his stare returning again and again to the proud, strong curve of her back, so noble and defiant, even when she was sitting with her head bent forward and her knees hugged to her chest. Hideaki then found his stare wandering to a slight warping in the shadows where her thighs met her chest; those strange shadows would be her breasts, pressing into the back of her thighs. Hideaki swallowed a nervous dry lump in his throat, and decided to try to reach his goal for the evening one more time. "You're very beautiful," he said softly. Her eyes snapped open, and she jerked her head upward. "What?" "You're very beautiful," Hideaki repeated. And then, just to make sure that there was no confusion, he added, "On the outside, I mean." Now she was staring at him, strangely, curiously. "I've been told that dozens of times in my life," she said, slowly, carefully. "But never by anyone who's ever *meant* anything to me before." She blushed again, this time making no effort to turn her face away or to hide it. Her voice grew soft, and very quiet. "Nobody that I really cared about has ever called me beautiful before." "So you do care about me. See? I knew it." Hideaki stood up, holding his lantern in one hand, using the other hand to unselfconsciously brush the grass off the seat of his pants. "Let's go back inside, shall we? The vampyre gnats are starting to bite." Then, just because he suddenly had the irrepressible urge to both push his luck and tempt fate at the same time, Hideaki held out his hand to her. And, still blushing slightly, she accepted it. Gripping his hand in her own, she pulled herself upward with one smooth, graceful motion; although the scene would still have appeared awkward to any casual onlookers, for she was much taller than he was. "Thank you," she said, almost somberly. Still holding hands, they walked in silence through the dark palace gardens. Only when they arrived back at the inner gates did Taiki break the silence. She turned toward Hideaki and said quite gravely, "You're very handsome yourself, mister Hideaki." "Aw, you don't need to tell me that." Hideaki winked at her. "I already know it's true." "So, then. The feeling is mutual." At that, they had both burst into a sudden and inexplicable fit of giggles. ******************** Night faded into day. Time passed. The youma attacks, however, did not cease. There was one the following day, near the Assembly chambers. Two days later, another youma appeared, this time in the palace kitchens. And two days after that, another youma, interrupting the guards as they performed practice drills on the outer fields. By the time the following week rolled around, the youma attacks had everybody in the palace nervous and jumpy, while at the same time, research into the true nature of the enemy was almost at a standstill. After defeating a youma near the palace library, Fighter looked frustrated enough to punch a hole through the wall. She almost did, but somehow managed to stop herself at the last minute. "It doesn't make any sense!" she growled. "What are they after? Why are they here?! How can we stop this from happening again and again and again and again--?!" "Who knows?" Healer shrugged. "I guess we should just stay on our toes, and look for some sort of clue . . . " Maker was equally as foul-tempered and frustrated. "That's what we've been *doing.* And we're still not any closer to the truth than when we first started this whole mess." Fighter sighed, and brushed her sweaty, disheveled bangs back from her forehead. She suddenly wanted to take a shower, very badly. "I'm out of here," she said, already de-transforming back into Seiya and turning away from the others. "If I don't go home right now and get my mind back on something constructive, I really am going to punch a hole in the bloody wall somewhere." Little did Seiya know, her frustration was actually shared by her enemies. Watching the final scene play out in his mirror, Reynard suddenly had the irresistible urge to send his balled up fist smashing through the treacherous glass. He almost did, but he somehow managed to stop himself at the last minute. "It doesn't make any sense!" he growled. "What is the Master after? Why do we keep implanting the type A eggs in the palace? Why are we just setting ourselves up for defeat again and again and again and again--?!" Delilah, who had been watching the mirror over his shoulder, favored him with a bemused glance. "Patience, Reynard. The Master has a plan for us, remember? Let's trust him." Reynard uttered a creative oath about where Malathos could shove his secretive master plans. Delilah didn't notice; she was suddenly absorbed in examining her beautifully shaped cuticles for hangnails. When bored, Delilah always turned to self-examination of her own beauty, for comfort. ******************** After her shower, Seiya only had a few precious moments of peace alone in her apartment before the phone rang. Seiya picked up the receiver. Yaten was on the other end of the line; she sounded as if she were in a sour mood. "Melinda's called a meeting," Yaten said. "When?" "Right now." "For what?" "To lecture us, of course." "Mmm. I'll be right there." Seiya wished fervently that another youma would appear, at that very moment, somewhere within the palace grounds . . . Anything was better than sitting through another one of Lady Melinda's lectures. - end part four -