Fic: On Razor's Edge - Chapter Six
Title: On Razor’s Edge - Chapter 6
Summary: Crystal Tokyo has arrived. So has Ando Tanaka.
Warnings: Oh, lots and lots of swearing. But other than that, tame.
A/N: Lots of beta help from the genius charliechaplin2, who fixes my grammar and amps up the angst and is an overall wonderful person and lovely human being. Written for venusorbit1’s wonderful and generous help_japan donation.
The previous chapter can be found here.
The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard.
~ verse in the Katha-Upanishad
***
Secrets are hard to keep. No one knew this better than Ando, who had made it his hobby to pry them from their owners, sometimes by tipping his head just so and smiling a slow smile (worked like a charm on the ladies), and sometimes by cracking a joke. He found that once the ice was broken, people loved to spill their secrets, sometimes even all of them at once. And if the head tilt and the jokes failed, then he had his excellent observation skills and the rather convenient mind-reading ability to fall back on.
The only thing Ando had not known about secrets was that there were some that he’d rather not learn. Like that oh so minor detail about Mamoru’s as of yet unconceived daughter.
“You’re very silent this morning,” Makoto said and peered at him over the counter.
“Am I? No, no, not really. I just thought I’d give you a break from my usual repertoire of bad puns and charming anecdotes. Build up a hype again, you know? Make you miss me.” He winked at Makoto, laying it on extra thick because he knew she hated that and hoped it would make her leave him alone.
“You just returned after a fourteen year absence. If there was no hype then, then there won’t be one now.”
“You’re a tough crowd.”
Makoto rolled her eyes and greeted the new customer. Opening his paper again, Ando held it up as a shield. He wasn’t really reading, he just needed Makoto not to look at him like--- well, a mother. Mothers - the normal kind, not his own - had this ability to see everything, especially the things deviant children wanted to hide. Ando had witnessed the maternal deduction technique live in action while growing up, his friends always being cornered and brought to order by just one long look. Scary people, mothers. Good thing his own had always been more concerned with the poodle.
Suddenly, a hand snuck over the top middle part of his paper and pushed it down, crinkling and wrinkling the pages as it did so. “Hey!” Ando exclaimed in protest, and glared at Makoto.
The senshi was glaring back at him.
“Where was Mamoru last night?”
“Whut?” Ando sputtered. Mamoru ought to have been in his bed, curled up next to his wife, having been delivered to his very door by Ando himself. And fine, Umino too.
“He was supposed to be home by three in the morning, with you and Umino fetching him from the hospital.”
“We did!”
“Usagi just wrote me a text, saying he never got home and is now over at Takeshi’s. Why is he at Takeshi’s?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Maybe they have one of their special moments. Nothing to do with me,” Ando replied, trying to lace his voice with righteous indignation. Damn his sorry stupid arse to seventy-seven kinds of hell. He had left the palace at seven in the morning to avoid Usagi, Ami and Rei because there was no way he could not tell them about Umino’s theory and the Outers’ warning, but he had not counted on Makoto actually working the early Sunday shift at her café. Wasn’t she supposed to be home, minding her kids, dogs, and husband? Damn, damn, damn. So much for his genius plan.
“Ando... You better tell me, or else...”
“You’ll add some quicksilver to my coffee?”
“Ando...,” Makoto repeated, her usually so sweet voice dangerously close to a growl.
“You should talk to Minako. And then Umino. And then Mamoru. And then Usagi. In that order. But not to me because I don’t know a thing, and also, the service here sucks, I’m leaving. Keep your delicious muffins and your tantalising coffee.” He pushed himself off the bar stool, grabbed his jacket, scarf and scrunched up paper. A quick retreat, a fast exit. That’s what was needed now. And a call to Mamoru fucking Chiba. What was that idiot thinking, not going home to his wife?
Makoto stepped out from behind the counter and was blocking Ando’s path so swiftly as if she’d teleported there. Eye-to-eye with Usagi’s strongest and tallest senshi who was glaring daggers at him, Ando suddenly realised that Makoto could take him. Easily. Without breaking a sweat.
“Tell me now.”
“You know, this whole housewife meets dominatrix thing really isn’t for me. I mean, your kink doesn’t have be my kink, but you know, you should really save this for your husband.”
“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I will call Minako and Mamoru. And Rei.”
This rubbed Ando the wrong way, and just like that, Makoto’s size and anger ceased to matter. “She’s not a deus ex machina, Makoto,” Ando stated, his voice as icy as Takeshi’s. Rei was not a fucking gambling chip. “You don’t get to use her to get me to do what you want. When I tell you to go ask Minako, I mean it.”
Face like thunder, Makoto glared at him and stomped back behind the counter, almost ripping the phone off the wall.
***
Just as Minako rolled over in bed to reach for the ringing phone, sleep still in her eyes, Takeshi and Mamoru were sitting outside, on the small bench underneath the cherry tree in the garden. Mamoru was wearing a jacket of Takeshi’s, and each man had a blanket draped over his legs. They’d been sitting there for over three hours, watching the night slowly give way to morning while the last of the October wind shook the yellow leaves off the tree.
Mamoru had come here because he didn’t know where else to go. He could not walk back into the palace, sneak inside his bedroom and crawl into bed with Usagi. Not when the return of his friends, which had been one of his most ardent wishes since he learned of their existence as a teenager, had risked his daughter. Usagi’s daughter. Their daughter. Their future. The idea was still beyond comprehension: for over twenty years, his future had been set in stone, and suddenly, everything was different, all safety gone.
“It’s not a given, but Umino thinks it’s a risk. He thinks it’s very likely. He thinks--” Mamoru’s voice broke.
Takeshi cleared his throat. “I will talk to Setsuna today.” Takeshi had taken the news calmly, had made Mamoru some coffee, reminded him to notify Usagi that he was here instead of going home, and had then guided his prince into the garden while Minako, dead to the world, slumbered upstairs in their bed. She hadn’t even heard the door bell.
Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Mamoru nodded. “I need to talk to Michiru.”
“If she does not cooperate, let me know.”
Mamoru snorted. “And that will change what?”
Takeshi looked down at his hands, folded in his lap.
“Sorry,” Mamoru murmured, “that was low. It’s just that---”
“I understand,” the architect replied. A moment of uneasy silence passed. “When are you going to tell Usagi?”
“I don’t know. After I’ve spoken to Michiru.”
“We also need to involve Rei. Her psychic abilities might be of help.”
“I don’t think she makes use of them any more. Not since the temple fell apart. She only ever did it in front of the fire, I’m not even sure it’s a senshi power, or whether it wasn’t always a miko thing.”
“I will consult her anyway.”
“She will tell Usagi,” Mamoru said, and a part of himself broke. Telling Usagi would make it real.
Behind them, the glass door slid open. Takeshi briefly closed his eyes, but did not turn around. Mamoru did. Minako was teetering on the threshold, her face full of sleep and worry. He met her eyes, and Minako shook her head. No, it was not him she wanted to talk to.
“Takeshi, a word please.”
Mamoru turned back around, and he and his shitennou exchanged a look. The way his jaw was set told Mamoru that his secret was safe with his friend: Takeshi would not tell Minako, which meant that for a few precious hours, Usagi would not need to know. Not yet. Not while there was still hope.
***
Somehow, he had made his escape from the café, sneaking out while a fuming Makoto barked into the receiver. Ando was now hurrying back to the palace. He needed to talk to Umino, and perhaps Rei. But mainly Umino. And then they would need to talk to Mamoru. They could not keep this thing a secret. It was his own fault, really. The second Minako told him about the Outers’ visit, he should have insisted she tell everyone else too, but of course he thought he’d better only tell Umino and Mamoru. Just to keep them in the loop. He’d purposefully left out Hiromasa and Takeshi because those two were difficult enough to handle as it was. Add one more gram of guilt, and Takeshi might snap. Add one more gram of injustice and worry, and Hiromasa might explode.
But not telling them had been a mistake. Mamoru had gone straight to Takeshi, even though Ando and Umino had safely escorted him back to his quarters. Sneaky bastard had just pretended to go to sleep, and then left as soon as his guardians’ bedroom doors closed. It was like the fucking Silver Milennium all over again, only that this time, Endymion was not sneaking to Serenity, but away from her, and Kunzite wasn’t trying to catch him, but waiting for him on the other side.
And if Takeshi knew, then proper protocol was soon to be initiated. Takeshi would talk to... who would Takeshi talk to? Ando stopped dead in his tracks as realisation hit him. Takeshi would seek out Michiru, Setsuna, and Rei. He would try to establish as much information as possible before calling for a meeting with everyone.
Part of Ando wanted to stop Takeshi because if he told Rei, and Rei learned that Ando was partly to blame for Usagi’s daughter never coming into existence, well... Ando was not sure that their relationship was strong enough to survive this. But of course, he couldn’t stop Takeshi. For one, Takeshi would not allow anyone to do so, and also, Ando would never be able to look into a mirror if he forged his happiness out of Usagi’s and Mamoru’s misfortune.
Turning a corner, he hurried towards the palace that was growing bigger and bigger with every step. He wondered how Minako would cope once she found out that the information she’d been sitting on for a week was such a powder keg. How Takeshi would react once he learned that Mina knew--- “Oh fuck,” Ando said, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he punched in Minako’s number.
This is me. I’m busy or lazy or lazily busy. Leave me a message, I might call you back.
Voice mail. “FUCK,” Ando burst out, and broke into a sprint.
***
“What’s going on? Usagi texted Mako to say that Mamoru was here. Why is he here, why isn’t he at home?” Wrapped up in his own bathrobe, Minako looked tiny. Where it barely reached the middle of his calves, on her it went all the way down to her ankles. He loved it when she wore his clothing, and while he never stopped to complain about her stealing his shirts and washing them wrong, his heart always skipped a beat when he returned home at night and found her on the couch with their dog, wearing a button-down of his, or one of his cashmere jumpers.
She looked up at him, alarmed. Seeing her this worried made him want to pull her close, whisper everything that was worrying him in her ear, so that they could find a solution together, but then he would tell her about Mamoru’s daughter, and he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t risk worrying Usagi until they knew for sure that Umino’s fear was founded on solid ground. Because Minako would tell Usagi. Minako told Usagi everything. But not him.
The fact that she had kept this from him stung. For a week, she had walked around with the knowledge of the Outers’ warning, but had not mentioned to him. Not one word. Moments like these had been piling up lately, her not trusting him, taking her worries elsewhere, discussing her concerns with others while brushing his own away.
So Takeshi crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me about the visitors you had on your birthday?”
Minako blinked. “What?”
Takeshi’s green eyes held hers. “You heard me.”
“I... I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been so on edge lately, and I...” Minako faltered and looked up at him. “Did they talk to Mamoru too? Is that why he’s here?”
“No. But Ando,” he laced the other man’s name with disdain, “whom you have informed of the visit, has told him.”
“Ah,” Minako said. “Sorry?”
“Are you?”
Minako looked down at her bare feet. “Not really.” And that was the crux. Minako always believed that when she was shutting him out, she was doing the right thing. As if he couldn’t take it, was some weak creature one could not risk burdening.
She sighed. “Let’s drive Mamoru home. Usagi already knows about Haruka’s and Michiru’s warning, she doesn’t care. Neither do I.”
“Sometimes, Minako, you are remarkably near-sighted. Go back to bed, I will take care of this.”
Despite himself, he bent down and placed a kiss on her temple. “Go.”
She reached for his hand, holding it tightly. Stubborn and insistent, she clung to him. His skin was icy from having spent hours outside, hers was still burning from sleep.
“Don’t make this into more than it has to be. One stupid warning. One stupid prophecy. I was told I would never be allowed to be happily in love, and yet we found each other again. Don’t listen to Haruka and Michiru, don’t brood. Let’s take Mamoru home, and then we can have a nice day.”
“Hmm. That’s what you were told?” The way he looked at her, so completely accepting, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Takeshi...”
Prying his hand loose, he shook his head. “Mamoru needs me today. You will have to make other plans.” He turned around and made his way back to the garden, sliding the glass doors shut behind him, leaving Minako on the other side.
Trapped behind the glass, Minako had to resist the urge to put her fist through it as she watched him sit down next to Mamoru again under the tree.
***
In the palace, everything was quiet. Everything except for the kitchen, where Usagi Chiba, the world’s worst cook, was currently trying to make a casserole. She’d mastered breakfast, but Sunday lunch, the burned casserole was insistently communicating to her, was still beyond her.
“Usa?” Ami’s sleepy voice interrupted Usagi’s endeavour to save the casserole by dumping some more cream and water on it before shoving it back into the glowing baking oven. “It’s seven-twenty. Why are you... is that lunch?”
Usagi turned around, a bright and slightly manic smile plastered all over her face. “Oh, Mamo didn’t come home tonight, and I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d learn how to make a casserole.”
Befuddled, Ami stepped inside the kitchen. It was pandemonium. On the stove, remnants of garlic and onions were still sizzling in a pan, a cloud of black smoke rising from it. The smell was horrible and stung in Ami’s eyes. “Can we turn the extractor hood on?”
“The what?”
Ami pointed to the silver contraption over the stove. Usagi blinked. “Oh, that’s not only there for the lamps?”
Where everyone else would have teased Usagi, Ami simply walked over and switched the extractor hood on and soon, after washing a pan or two, and opening a window, the stinging smell of burnt garlic began to dissipate.
Working around Usagi, who was still adding things to the casserole, unwilling to believe it was too far gone to save, Ami made coffee and set the table for two. Umino was still asleep anyway, Rei never came down to this kitchen for breakfast, which only left Ando, who would be quite happy to get his own mug and plate. Ami found that the journalist was surprisingly pleasant to live with. He was easy-going most of the time, went out of his way to be nice to Usagi and herself, and Umino loved having him around.
Things had changed since Ando’s return, and Ami was one of the few who whole-heartedly felt that it was for the better. The changing city was scary, but ever since she and Usagi had transformed (and thus repaired) the temple, and a few other buildings since, Ami felt that they were heading in the right direction. She remembered the glimpses of Crystal Tokyo from the future; even in times of destruction, the city had exuded a quiet sort of hope. The crystal was such a fascinating substance, so astonishingly easy to mould, its areas of application limitless. They could create buildings out of thin air, could pave roads and build bridges. And then there was the potential for it to heal. She hadn’t spoken about it to anyone, no yet, but Ami was sure that if in the future, the crystal could be used to protect Serenity from Nemesis, there must be a way to make use of those protective qualities in medicine. She had already taken some smaller samples of the crystal, chipped from a wall somewhere in a tower, and had begun to analyse them under the microscope. Tomorrow, she would get some diseased cell samples from the hospital and mix them with the crystal. If she was right, then they could use the crystal to fight all sort of diseases----
“Ami?” Usagi’s voice brought her crashing back to reality.
“Yes?”
“Did Mamoru say something to you? Why he didn’t come home last night and went to Takeshi’s?”
Ami blinked. “No, I didn’t even know he went anywhere but here. Last thing I knew was that Umino and Ando came to fetch him from the hospital round three.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, he’ll be here in time for lunch, right, and then we can eat... this.” She nodded in the direction of the casserole, and Ami winced. “Usa, when it’s burnt like this, it’s full of toxins. It’s not healthy.”
Staring down at the casserole as if it had transformed into a dead kitten, Usagi’s eyes welled up. “I just wanted to make some lunch,” she whispered, and the first big tear dropped onto the crystal floor, soon to be followed by another one, and another one, until all Ami could do was to reach out and pull her friend in for a hug. “Usa, we can make a new one together. It’s fine.”
Sniffling, Usagi shook her head. “You can’t cook either, Ami, and we’re out of cheese.”
A voice from the door interrupted the sad scene.
“Easy there, waterworks. Umino can cook, even without cheese. Ami, go wake him, he’ll help.”
It was Ando, red-faced, slightly sweaty, and a bit out of breath.
Always more used to taking orders than giving them (unless a medical emergency was at hand), Ami let go of Usagi and went to wake her boyfriend, an almost impossible endeavour before ten in the morning, but if Usagi was crying, and all that could make her stop was preparing lunch for the mysteriously wayward Mamoru, then lunch they would make.
Watching Ami leave, Ando remained in his place in the doorframe for a few seconds longer before shedding his jacket and scarf and moving into the kitchen. He’d planned to talk to Umino, get him to call Takeshi, and then take it from there, but a crying Usagi kind of ruined that plan. Hell, a crying Usagi ruined any kind of plan. Was she crying because her husband didn’t come home, or because she knew about her daughter? One thing was for sure, it was not because of that damn stinking casserole.
“What’s going on, breakfast fairy? Too early for lunch anyway,” he said in a vain attempt to console her over something that probably didn’t bother her anyway.
Still crying big tears, Usagi tried to smile at him, and failed. “I know.” She wore her hair in pig-tails again, which made her look even younger, and with all the tears, sadder too.
“Oh, come here, you,” Ando said, and Usagi went in for the hug. Stroking her back like he’d seen Makoto stroke Aiko’s after she bruised her knee last week, he held his prince’s wife. “What are you really crying about? Mamoru not being here?”
Usagi nodded against his shoulder dug her hands into his back.
“He’s at Takeshi’s. You know Takeshi. He’ll take care of him.”
“Something’s wrong,” Usagi murmured, and Ando could feel her tears soaking his shirt. “It’s because of Michiru and Haruka, isn’t it?” Her voice was muffled, and she sniffed.
Ando pushed her a bit away and looked at her. “You’re a lot smarter than people give you credit for, you know that?”
That brought a tiny smile to Usagi’s face. “Yeah.”
“So you know about Michiru and Haruka?” His beart began to beat faster. She might know about the prophecy, but he doubted she had cottoned on the child-in-danger-part. And that was when Ando realised, at 7.29 in the kitchen on the ground floor of the scary crystal palace on the last Sunday of October, that he would have to be the one to tell her. He couldn’t lie to Usagi. He couldn’t.
He would be the one to tell her. And Mamoru would hate him for it.
***
The drive to Setsuna’s penthouse in the city centre was a quiet one. Takeshi easily navigated the BMW through the empty streets of Tokyo, eyes always on the road, indicating left, right, left. Some streets still looked completely normal, but others were changed. Crystalline spires were adorning them more often than not, a constant reminder of all that had gone wrong. Mamoru looked out of the passenger window, but as the city raced past him in a silver blur, he found his mind wandering.
For weeks, he had been telling Takeshi not to worry, that everything would be fine, to keep their eyes on the prize. He should have known that something was wrong when his lead shitennou so stubbornly insisted on doom all around them. In the past, Kunzite’s instincts had always been excellent. He could smell trouble from months and miles away, and in all the years they had been friends, both in this life and the last, Mamoru could think of only one instance when Kunzite’s instincts had been proven wrong.
This instance had of course been catastrophic beyond belief, and to this day, Mamoru refused to so much as waste one minute remembering his men turning on him. He had forgiven them, and like Usagi’s, his forgiveness was absolute. He had just never expected it to come with a price tag.
He had turned into a man with the belief in Crystal Tokyo already firmly in place, had met his daughter when he himself was still a boy at 18. Chibi-Usa was such a big part of their lives, and a part of him had been waiting for years to finally meet her in her own time. But since the shitennou had awoken, the princess had not been seen. Of course, Mamoru and Usagi had broached the subject with Setsuna, but the senshi of time had patiently explained that Small Lady’s time-travelling adventures had been the exception, not the norm, and now that the girl’s parents were no longer battling Nemesis, it was only to be expected that she stayed put. Mamoru had accepted it without doubt: he wanted Chibi-Usa to be safe, and time-travelling was dangerous. So much could go wrong, one could so easily loose oneself in the mists of time and space. One step out of place, one dropped time key, and that was it. It had been a relief to know that Chibi-Usa was safe and thus assured, he had begun to live a life with his men in it.
A red light brought them to a stop.
Takeshi cleared his throat. “Do you think Setsuna would be willing to travel to the future to make sure that your daughter is alright?”
Would she? Time and time again, Setsuna Meioh had told them that the future was not their business, that the gate needed to remain shut, that the road ahead was not yet their concern. But if she would make an exception for anyone, it was for Chibi-Usa. She loved the child as if she were her own. “I hope so.”
***
He took her hand and guided her to the table. Usagi sat down, and Ando looked around the kitchen, with its messy bowls and pots and pans everywhere. “Umm, do you want me to make you a cup of tea?”
She sniffled. “No.”
“Chocolate?”
She shook her head again.
“Ice cream? Pancakes? Want me to steal you a pony somewhere?”
Her bottom lip began to tremble.
“I could take you to Mamoru, you know? I have a pretty good idea where he’s going, we could take Ami’s car and---”
Wiping the tears away - a futile endeavour, since new ones immediately took their place - Usagi looked up at him, big blue eyes pleading. “What didn’t Minako tell me about Haruka’s and Michiru’s visit?” There really was no way out of this.
Sighing, Ando pulled a chair over and sat down, reaching for Usagi’s hands once more. Damn. He hated this. Hated this more than anything, more than his parents, more than the horrible first two years in Tokyo, more than every single fucking birthday his parents had forgotten over the years. Hands down, this was the worst experience of Ando Tanaka’s life.
“Minako told you everything she knew. And from what I’ve heard, the Outers told her everything too, but neither Minako nor them connected all the dots.” He paused, trying to find the right words. It’s what he did, dressing up ugly truths in beautiful language, but today, this talent failed him.
“I don’t understand,” Usagi whispered, clinging to his hands.
“They said that everything would change. And Umino thinks that everything,” he swallowed, but the lump in his throat stayed put, and grew with every falling tear of hers, “everything might include your daughter.” Her eyes went wide, and she ripped her hands back as if his words had burned them. “No. No that’s not possible. He’s wrong. I’ve seen her. I’ve seen the future, Ando, I know she’s there.”
A bottle of whiskey. A line of blow. A happy pill. Being hit over the head with a brick. Anything, anything at all to make this moment stop, but the only thing within reach was that burned casserole. She was crying, and shaking her head. “I’ve seen her, seen her so many times. She’s fine. Umino is wrong.”
Hating to be the one to twist the knife, selfishly wishing it could be Takeshi doing this, he continued, his voice almost a whisper. “When you were in the future, did you see us?” If she’d seen only a glimpse of the shitennou, just the shadow of Kunzite, Nephrite’s back disappearing into some sort of secret hallway, Zoisite’s eyes on the other side of a bookshelf, then they’d be okay. Just one trace of a grey uniform. If they were a part of that future, however small and hidden, then her daughter was not at risk, was fin---
“No,” Usagi whispered. “Never,” and crumbled into his arms.
***
There were few people who were already awake, dressed, and hospitable even before eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Takeshi was not even a little bit surprised that Setsuna was one of them.
“Take a seat,” the senshi said and led them into her spotless living room. Grateful, Mamoru sank into a black leather armchair, while Setsuna walked through a door leading to her kitchen, heels clicking on the white marble. She was dressed in precisely the kind of expensive and simple clothing Minako abhorred, Takeshi noticed. A cream jumper, black pants, black heels. No jewelry. As he surveyed her living room, he found that the tasteful and reduced style she favoured in her clothing was also dominant in her furniture. Chrome and glass, clear lines, no fuss. In fact, except for the large watercolour painting of a rose-covered pond mounted on the wall, everything looked more or less like his old bachelor apartment, the one he had lived in before he met Minako.
“She won’t do it,” Mamoru murmured, and looked up at Takeshi, who was still standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. Mamoru had not even taken of jacket and scarf, and Takeshi too was still wearing his trench.
“You don’t know that,” the architect replied. His attention was caught by the sound of a clock ticking somewhere, the only sound that resonated in the room other than his friend’s subdued voice. It was so quiet here. No radio, no television, just silence and the sound of a clock. “It’s not like you to be so defeated before the battle has even begun,” he gently reprimanded Mamoru, thinking back to the many rousing speeches he had heard the younger man give over the years.
“That’s because it’s already over.”
Takeshi turned to Mamoru, denial already on his lips, but then the kitchen door swung open, bringing their conversation to a halt. Setsuna was carrying a tray, laden with china and a few sandwiches.
“Here, let me,” Takeshi offered and took the tray from her hands, setting it down on the coffee table. “Thank you,” Setsuna said, and began to set the delicate china cups on the table. They were white, only adorned with a single silver line round the top. With a steady hand, she lifted the matching teapot and filled three cups. “Sugar, milk?”
Both men shook their heads.
Handing Mamoru cup and saucer, while motioning to Takeshi to please help himself, Setsuna sat down on the couch. “I take it this is about Michiru’s vision?”
“You know about that?” Mamoru asked, the worry momentarily fleeing his features. If she knew and hadn’t said anything, then they were fine. They were fine.
“She wanted me to go to Minako with her,” Setsuna replied and took a sip of her tea. “I did not.” Her eyes met Takeshi’s, who was still standing beside the armchair in which Mamoru sat. “I hope Michiru was not too rude to you. She’s acting in Usagi’s best interest, but she sometimes chooses the wrong tone.”
“I wasn’t home.”
“Oh,” Setsuna said, arching a brow. “I was under the impression Michiru delivered her message on Minako’s birthday.”
“She did. I was working.”
“I see,” Setsuna replied. “And the two of you are here today because...?” Her voice trailed off, and she tipped her head to the side.
“Can you check that everything is well in the future?” Takeshi asked calmly.
The senshi put her cup on the saucer. Mamoru scooted closer to the edge of the armchair, every muscle in his body once more tense with fear.
Even though Takeshi had asked, it was Mamoru the senshi addressed her response to. “Mamoru, you know the answer to that. This is not how it works. I guard the gate, not the future itself. If you want to know whether anyone has trespassed, then the answer is no. All is quiet.”
“Umino thinks Chibi-Usa is at risk,” Mamoru said in a low voice.
That got Setsuna’s attention. She turned to Takeshi, just a hint of worry in her unusual red eyes. “Explain.”
“Michiru argues that our inclusion in Crystal Tokyo changes the genesis and structure of the city and Umino believes it consequently may have an impact on everything that is a part of it. Including Mamoru’s daughter.”
“So you are afraid she will--- she will never be born?” In the kitchen, the clock stopped ticking.
Feebly, Mamoru nodded.
“But I take it that all of you have met the child at some point. If she came from the future and travelled to what is now the past, then her existence must be safe, correct?” Takeshi asked, taking on a tone of authority.
“Time is not linear. I...,” Setsuna took a deep breath. “It’s very complex.”
“Try me,” Takeshi replied dryly. “I can assure you, both Mamoru’s and my mental faculties are rather advanced.”
“If they met Small Lady in the past, then that was because it was a past that contributed to her existence. But if the... let’s call them ingredients, if the ingredients change, then the outcome will be different. The future is never set in stone, and every minute, a new possibility arises. All those possibilities exist up to the point where present becomes future. Only then is the outcome fixed.”
Mamoru looked at his feet. “So we only met the possibility of her?”
“Yes.”
“But from what I understand, you too have seen the child. In the time she belongs to,” Takeshi insisted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“I did, but if I were - and I am not saying I am going to - travel to the same point in time now, everything might be different. She might be there, she might not. I could meet her today, but if I were to set off ten minutes later, something might have changed, one element out of a million, and everything is different.”
“Can all elements change and the outcome still remains the same?”
“Are you asking me about destiny, Kunzite?”
Takeshi flinched.
“Destiny is fickle. Time is fickle. I cannot give you the absolution you seek.”
His jaw clenched. “I am not seeking anything.”
“Oh, I think you are.” They looked at each other, a million unspoken words hanging in the air, but then Setsuna broke away and turned to Mamoru. “Take my advice: talk to Michiru. But talk to her alone, and be aware that there are no guarantees.”
Mamoru nodded and got up, walking out without another word. Takeshi remained behind.
“So you do not believe in guarantees,” he said slowly, pulling the car keys from his pockets.
“No, I do not.” Brushing imaginary crumbs of her pants, she refused to meet his eyes.
Thoughtfully, he nodded. “Is that why you took Ando back?”
“He told you.” Setsuna sounded surprised.
“You terrified him.”
Her head shot up. “He is too bold. Too keen to move forward, not aware enough of his past.” For the first time, she seemed angry, Takeshi noted, her iron control slipping. But the moment passed, and her face became smooth once more. “I would never need to take you back,” she continued, and there was pity in her eyes. “Because you never left.”
“You could argue that a man who spent two years drunk because of what he did in the past could not possibly be any more of aware of his own guilt,” Takeshi replied in a level voice, but Setsuna thought she saw his eyes soften. There was an understanding between the two of them, but it would be disloyal to discuss it.
“Drunk, yes. Aware, no. He needed to be... paused. For just a minute.”
“Next time, I would appreciate it if you would come to me before handling one of my men like that.”
Setsuna smiled. “And here I was, thinking you were just an ordinary architect, with no men to speak of.”
Sighing, Takeshi made to leave. “I wish I was. Thank you for the tea.”
“I’ll take you to the door.” She rose from the leather couch, all grace, and walked behind him. “Do keep me informed. And thank you for telling me about the temple’s resurrection. I take it Usagi is well?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Until we tell her about her daughter, Setsuna.”
***
If there was one thing Umino Kiichi hated, it was being woken early. He loved to sleep. Always had. Ten hours, twelve hours, fourteen hours: he could never get enough. So when Ami stroked his cheek, whispering it was time to get up, he opened one eye, squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and pulled the heavy blanket over his head.
The mattress dipped and the blanket was pulled away. “Usagi is crying, you need to teach her how to make lunch.”
“‘s it lunch time already?” he murmured, this time opening both eyes to peer at the clock. “Ami, ‘sn’t even eight.” She waited a moment, knowing that even the most brilliant of minds needed a moment before it started to fully function. “Wait, what?” Umino finally said, and pushed himself into a sitting position. “She’s crying? Why? Did Mamoru tell her?”
Ami frowned. “Tell her what? He didn’t even come home last night.”
“About Chibi-Usa. And what do you mean, he didn’t come, he came home. Ando and I picked him up round three, he even got home early. He’s not here?” Umino blinked, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Where is he?”
“At Takeshi’s. What’s with Chibi-Usa? Is she okay? Has she come for a visit?”
Umino’s face fell. “Oh, Ami.”
***
Stepping out of the shower, Minako reached for a towel and dried herself off. Not bothering to brush her wet hair, she simply put it in a tight bun on top of her head and hurried into her bedroom. Closet doors were thrown open, and for once, she just picked the first items that fell into her hands. Yesterday’s bra, some clean panties sitting on top of the basket full of fresh but wrinkled laundry, the jeans she’d worn to walk Attila ylast night, the pink jumper from the first clothes hanger in reach, and that was it.
Her purse was still downstairs, as was her leather jacket and the ballet flats she slipped into. She’d forgotten a scarf, she realised belatedly, but that didn’t matter now, no time to run back up. Only when she barrelled out onto the driveway did she realise that Takeshi had taken the car.
Turning on the spot, Minako cursed. Something was wrong, and if Takeshi wouldn’t tell her, someone in the palace would. She just needed to get there first. Forcing herself to think, she went through her options. She could transform and hurry over the roofs. In broad daylight. She winced. No, not that. Someone could see her. She could transform and teleport! That would be quick, but also exhausting, and it would set anyone who ran into her in senshi form unnecessarily on edge. But then again, Mamoru and Takeshi clearly already were, Makoto had sounded positively livid over the phone, and Ando’s missed call from 7.16 didn’t bode well either. A cab or teleportation.
With a colourful curse, Minako hurried back inside, pulling her henshin wand out at the same time as her keys.
***
Following Mamoru’s directions, Takeshi sped down the highway. The Outer’s mansion was outside Tokyo, and from what he had heard over the years, naturally never having been invited himself, it was practically an estate. They used to live in skyscrapers adjacent to the one Setsuna had her penthouse in, but had moved once... once he, Hiromasa, Umino and Ando appeared. Takeshi hated the idea of having driven two people away who had provided such an excellent protection system for Mamoru and Usagi over the years, but all efforts to reconcile the Outers with the shitennous’ return had failed. And efforts there had been many.
Mamoru had already called Michiru by the time Takeshi had exited Setsuna’s building, alerting her that he was coming. “You’ll have to stay in the car,” Mamoru repeated for the third time. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Takeshi said, and looked over his shoulder before overtaking the lorry.
Noticing the blinking sleek black mobile on the wood-lined console, Mamoru picked it up and flipped it open. “Minako tried to call you twice. And so did Ando.”
Takeshi snorted. “Ando called because he just realised that he should have informed me of the prophecy the second Minako told him about it.”
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“My fiancée telling her friend instead of me? Yes, it does.”
“Not only that. Also that they... it used to be different among you. You were their leader.”
Under normal circumstances, Takeshi would have ended the conversation right here. But every second that Mamoru did not sit in torment over his daughter was one Takeshi sought to prolong. He could do so little to ease Mamoru’s worries, but he could distract him. Even if that meant discussing the state of the shitennou.
“I have done very little to assume that position again.”
“I know. You need to understand, Ando and Umino will be always turn to each other first. That’s nothing new.” It was true. Even in the past, the two blond men were always in cahoots with each other. One knew everything about the other, and even though the ability to read minds was Jadeite’s alone, there had never been a single thought in his head that Zoisite wasn’t privy to.
Gripping the steering wheel a little harder, Takeshi side-eyed Mamoru. “I wasn’t exactly in favour of it then.”
Mamoru shrugged and smiled. He fondly remembered many an afternoon when Kunzite had stalked through the castle looking for Zoisite and Jadeite, who, of course, had disappeared to Elysion hours ago. They had a special hiding place somewhere in the magical land, but Kunzite had never found it, had never been able to drag them back. More than once, the prince had wondered whether the land didn’t shift around the two culprits, hiding them from view. Elysion was benevolent like that, at least if it liked those wandering its meadows. Also, it played favourites, and unfortunately for the commander of the shitennou, he had never been one of them.
Takeshi changed to right lane again. “But you still come to me first, and I am inclined to think that this matters more.”
Stretching his legs (glad that the X5 allowed for such spacial luxury), Mamoru leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “Hiro comes to you first too. Don’t let him hear that it means less to you.”
“I know.”
The land raced past, and more and more green took the place of buildings, and the further they sped away from the city, the less crystal was to be found. Fir trees dominated the landscape, tall and green and unchanging. Here, you almost couldn’t tell that autumn had long since started, were it not for the odd leaf-bearing tree peaking out between firs, leaves golden, russet, and falling. You also couldn’t tell that just fifteen miles behind them, a crystal rose to cover the city.
“If you want them to see you as their leader again, then you will have to--” Mamoru stopped as suddenly as he had begun. There was no way to phrase it that Takeshi wouldn’t take as either insult or criticism.
“Act like it?”
“Well, yes.” So much for that.
“Don’t worry, I will. Umino saw to that.”
Mamoru frowned. “I’m not following.”
“You’re sitting in the car with the head of the Crystal Tokyo Citizen Taskforce.”
“You sound excited,” Mamoru replied and grinned.
“Oh, utterly. I am in rapture.” Only one person. Only one person in the world for whom Takeshi would make light of his misery, and that person was sitting in the passenger seat.
“So is this your new hobby? You will go to meetings in the evening, hand out flyers on the weekend? I have a hard time imagining that.” Mamoru chuckled.
“It will be a bit more demanding than that, but I am afraid that at some point, flyers and evening meetings will be involved.”
“That’s Umino’s payback for making Ami cry.” Mamoru was still grinning when he spotted the exit sign, thus missing the dejected expression that flitted over Takeshi’s features for a second.
***
Ando wasn’t in his tower room. He also wasn’t in Ami’s and Umino’s bed with the two of them plus Usagi, having breakfast. Changing back into her civilian form, Minako felt more and more nervous with each room she peeked in only to find it empty. Usagi’s and Mamoru’s apartment: nothing. Throne room: nothing. Round room: nothing. Minako decided to try the kitchen they’d been in yesterday next, and then head to Rei’s quarters. There was no way in hell Rei would let everyone into her living room at the same time, wreaking havoc, but they had to be somewhere.
“Minako?”
Minako whipped around, only to find herself eye to eye with Rei, dressed in yoga clothes. “So not in your room, then,” she murmured, and Rei frowned. “Who?”
“Everyone.”
“I think they are in the kitchen.”
“Let’s go then. And Rei, I have to tell you something. Michiru and Haruka---”
“Ah, so that was why Ando had to come to you on your birthday,” Rei interjected, and Minako nodded, while dragging the former priestess down the corridor by her elbow. “Minako!” Rei protested, but the blonde ignored her.
“Yes, yes, that’s why. They came over with some sort of prophecy, pretty much the usual, and I told Ando and Usagi and didn’t make much of it, but now everyone is freaking out and Mamoru didn’t come home last night because he was sitting under my flipping cherry tree with Takeshi, all weight of the world on his bloody shoulders, and something is up, and we’re going to find out what that is!” Minako was picking up more and more speed, until both women broke into a soft run.
“This is ridiculous,” Rei snapped, and snatched her elbow back, skidding to a stop.
“Rei, move!”
“Minako, if anyone were in mortal danger, they would have called us. And I refuse to run through the palace for anything but life-threatening emergencies. So we will walk.” Rei gave Minako a disapproving look (one that reminded Minako of her mother and manners, girl, manners) and set a normal pace. Fuming, Minako followed her. “So you don’t know what’s going on either?”
“Clearly, I do not, since neither my boyfriend---”
“Aww, that’s the first time I heard you call him that,” Minako said, a genuine smile blooming on her face.
“--- since neither my boyfriend nor my friends see fit to tell me that some sort of prophecy has been made,” Rei continued pointedly. “And I would just like to say that Michiru’s mirror is anything but failsafe. Visions of the future, any vision, by anyone, is always tinted by how the receiving person sees the world.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You never asked.”
“Do you still have visions, Rei? Did you see our future? Is it a good one?”
They turned a corner, and Rei held an arm out to stop Minako. “Do you hear that?”
Minako pricked her ears. “Usagi. She’s crying.”
And just like that, in a palace, in a non life-threatening emergency, Rei Hino broke into a run.
***
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” Mamoru said grudgingly. Michiru, clad in a white silk dressing gown, her aquamarine hair piled up on top of her head with only a few loose curls escaping, shrugged delicately and examined her perfectly manicured fingernails. Even at this ungodly hour, she was wearing a diamond ring and matching earrings. “I expected you earlier than today.”
“What did you see?”
Michiru craned her head in the direction of the large window. “Did you leave your guard dog at the door?”
“Don’t go there, Michiru, not today,” Mamoru almost growled, his patience at an end, “just tell me what you saw.”
The musician sighed dramatically and turned back to him. “If I tell Minako that the future is at risk, and that our peaceful world will never be because of your friends, what do you think I saw?”
“Did you see my daughter in the future?”
Michiru crossed her legs, holding the dressing gown shut with one hand. “No.”
Mamoru closed his eyes. “This is bad.”
The senshi of deep waters began to laugh, soft, tinkling and full of disdain.
“How is this funny to you?” Mamoru shouted and jumped up. “This is my daughter, Michiru, MY DAUGHTER!”
“You are worried about one child? One? Oh, you foolish, silly man. It’s not just your daughter that’s at stake here, it’s all of us.” She got up and walked to a small drawer at the other side of the room. “For years, we have warned you. Warned you that they are harbingers of doom, bringing nothing but destruction, but you never listened.”
Michiru pulled open one of the drawers, and returned with the Deep Aqua Mirror. “Well, it’s time you saw for yourself.” The glass was already swirling with images, red, and black, and grey.
“Here,” she handed it to Mamoru, who took it with dread.
“Now look,” she said, waving her hand over the mirror, and the colours took shape.
Smoking crystal columns. Fallen towers. The ruins of a palace. Tanks barrelling over the living and dead alike.
Somewhere in the distance, an explosion.
“Venus! VENUS, come here, HERE!” Jadeite, waving like a madman. And Venus running towards him, blood on her face. “I couldn’t find her!”
Jadeite reaches out and roughly pulls Venus into the sidestreet he is hiding in. Bombs begin to rain down in the distance, thrown from air vessels with perfect aim. Another part of the palace is aglow with flames. Venus looks over her shoulder, panic in her eyes. “If she’s still out there, we need to find her. We need to get her to safety! This whole thing could blow up any minute now!”
“Zoisite and Mercury have her, she’s in hiding already. We need to go to them and lay low for a while, come on.”
A flash of white light illuminates the darkness, and behind them, a tall figure appears. Jadeite tries to drag her further into the street, but Venus is digging her heels into the ground. “What about--”
“You’ve got the Queen? Good, then you can take me to her and all of this can end.” All colour leaves Venus’s face, and she slowly turns around. Jadeite immediately raises his hands, which begin to sprout flames.
“Tak-- Kunzite,” Venus corrects herself, and the Love Me Chain appears in her hands. Betrayal is written all over her face.
Kunzite looks at Jadeite, not a muscle in his face moving. “Endymion is safe, go get the Queen, and then Nephrite and I can hide her too.”
“She won’t leave her people and her city,” snarls Jadeite. “This is her home.”
“This?” Kunzite glances over his shoulder. “Her people are the ones raining bombs down on the palace, without warning or announcement. Hundreds have died, and this is just the beginning. This experiment has failed. Don’t be foolish. I have an agreement with Wiseman, we can leave, as long as we leave now.”
Venus takes a step forward. “Crystal Tokyo is not an experiment! We need to gather our strength, not give up.”
He presses his lips into a thin line. “Aiko is dead. Jupiter is in critical condition. We have not been able to establish contact with Uranus and Mars in days. This is over. We will retreat to Nemesis, and stay there. It’s the best I could negotiate, given the circumstances.”
“THIS IS NOT HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!” Venus roars---
and the mirror faded to black. Michiru caught it just as it dropped from Mamoru’s hands.
“Forget about Crystal Tokyo, Mamoru.”
Her voice was deceptively soft. He looked up at her, blinking. The white furniture around him, the pastel watercolours mounted on the walls, the windows, her sea green eyes, all became the canvas on which he saw the destruction of his home replaying over and over again.
Michiru got up, mirror in hand. She stroked its shiny surface as if it were a lover.
“Prepare yourself for Nemesis, Mamoru,” the senshi murmured, “it’s our new home.”
*** End of Chapter Six***
Onto the Interlude.
And onto chapter 7.
Summary: Crystal Tokyo has arrived. So has Ando Tanaka.
Warnings: Oh, lots and lots of swearing. But other than that, tame.
A/N: Lots of beta help from the genius charliechaplin2, who fixes my grammar and amps up the angst and is an overall wonderful person and lovely human being. Written for venusorbit1’s wonderful and generous help_japan donation.
The previous chapter can be found here.
The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard.
~ verse in the Katha-Upanishad
***
Secrets are hard to keep. No one knew this better than Ando, who had made it his hobby to pry them from their owners, sometimes by tipping his head just so and smiling a slow smile (worked like a charm on the ladies), and sometimes by cracking a joke. He found that once the ice was broken, people loved to spill their secrets, sometimes even all of them at once. And if the head tilt and the jokes failed, then he had his excellent observation skills and the rather convenient mind-reading ability to fall back on.
The only thing Ando had not known about secrets was that there were some that he’d rather not learn. Like that oh so minor detail about Mamoru’s as of yet unconceived daughter.
“You’re very silent this morning,” Makoto said and peered at him over the counter.
“Am I? No, no, not really. I just thought I’d give you a break from my usual repertoire of bad puns and charming anecdotes. Build up a hype again, you know? Make you miss me.” He winked at Makoto, laying it on extra thick because he knew she hated that and hoped it would make her leave him alone.
“You just returned after a fourteen year absence. If there was no hype then, then there won’t be one now.”
“You’re a tough crowd.”
Makoto rolled her eyes and greeted the new customer. Opening his paper again, Ando held it up as a shield. He wasn’t really reading, he just needed Makoto not to look at him like--- well, a mother. Mothers - the normal kind, not his own - had this ability to see everything, especially the things deviant children wanted to hide. Ando had witnessed the maternal deduction technique live in action while growing up, his friends always being cornered and brought to order by just one long look. Scary people, mothers. Good thing his own had always been more concerned with the poodle.
Suddenly, a hand snuck over the top middle part of his paper and pushed it down, crinkling and wrinkling the pages as it did so. “Hey!” Ando exclaimed in protest, and glared at Makoto.
The senshi was glaring back at him.
“Where was Mamoru last night?”
“Whut?” Ando sputtered. Mamoru ought to have been in his bed, curled up next to his wife, having been delivered to his very door by Ando himself. And fine, Umino too.
“He was supposed to be home by three in the morning, with you and Umino fetching him from the hospital.”
“We did!”
“Usagi just wrote me a text, saying he never got home and is now over at Takeshi’s. Why is he at Takeshi’s?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Maybe they have one of their special moments. Nothing to do with me,” Ando replied, trying to lace his voice with righteous indignation. Damn his sorry stupid arse to seventy-seven kinds of hell. He had left the palace at seven in the morning to avoid Usagi, Ami and Rei because there was no way he could not tell them about Umino’s theory and the Outers’ warning, but he had not counted on Makoto actually working the early Sunday shift at her café. Wasn’t she supposed to be home, minding her kids, dogs, and husband? Damn, damn, damn. So much for his genius plan.
“Ando... You better tell me, or else...”
“You’ll add some quicksilver to my coffee?”
“Ando...,” Makoto repeated, her usually so sweet voice dangerously close to a growl.
“You should talk to Minako. And then Umino. And then Mamoru. And then Usagi. In that order. But not to me because I don’t know a thing, and also, the service here sucks, I’m leaving. Keep your delicious muffins and your tantalising coffee.” He pushed himself off the bar stool, grabbed his jacket, scarf and scrunched up paper. A quick retreat, a fast exit. That’s what was needed now. And a call to Mamoru fucking Chiba. What was that idiot thinking, not going home to his wife?
Makoto stepped out from behind the counter and was blocking Ando’s path so swiftly as if she’d teleported there. Eye-to-eye with Usagi’s strongest and tallest senshi who was glaring daggers at him, Ando suddenly realised that Makoto could take him. Easily. Without breaking a sweat.
“Tell me now.”
“You know, this whole housewife meets dominatrix thing really isn’t for me. I mean, your kink doesn’t have be my kink, but you know, you should really save this for your husband.”
“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I will call Minako and Mamoru. And Rei.”
This rubbed Ando the wrong way, and just like that, Makoto’s size and anger ceased to matter. “She’s not a deus ex machina, Makoto,” Ando stated, his voice as icy as Takeshi’s. Rei was not a fucking gambling chip. “You don’t get to use her to get me to do what you want. When I tell you to go ask Minako, I mean it.”
Face like thunder, Makoto glared at him and stomped back behind the counter, almost ripping the phone off the wall.
***
Just as Minako rolled over in bed to reach for the ringing phone, sleep still in her eyes, Takeshi and Mamoru were sitting outside, on the small bench underneath the cherry tree in the garden. Mamoru was wearing a jacket of Takeshi’s, and each man had a blanket draped over his legs. They’d been sitting there for over three hours, watching the night slowly give way to morning while the last of the October wind shook the yellow leaves off the tree.
Mamoru had come here because he didn’t know where else to go. He could not walk back into the palace, sneak inside his bedroom and crawl into bed with Usagi. Not when the return of his friends, which had been one of his most ardent wishes since he learned of their existence as a teenager, had risked his daughter. Usagi’s daughter. Their daughter. Their future. The idea was still beyond comprehension: for over twenty years, his future had been set in stone, and suddenly, everything was different, all safety gone.
“It’s not a given, but Umino thinks it’s a risk. He thinks it’s very likely. He thinks--” Mamoru’s voice broke.
Takeshi cleared his throat. “I will talk to Setsuna today.” Takeshi had taken the news calmly, had made Mamoru some coffee, reminded him to notify Usagi that he was here instead of going home, and had then guided his prince into the garden while Minako, dead to the world, slumbered upstairs in their bed. She hadn’t even heard the door bell.
Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Mamoru nodded. “I need to talk to Michiru.”
“If she does not cooperate, let me know.”
Mamoru snorted. “And that will change what?”
Takeshi looked down at his hands, folded in his lap.
“Sorry,” Mamoru murmured, “that was low. It’s just that---”
“I understand,” the architect replied. A moment of uneasy silence passed. “When are you going to tell Usagi?”
“I don’t know. After I’ve spoken to Michiru.”
“We also need to involve Rei. Her psychic abilities might be of help.”
“I don’t think she makes use of them any more. Not since the temple fell apart. She only ever did it in front of the fire, I’m not even sure it’s a senshi power, or whether it wasn’t always a miko thing.”
“I will consult her anyway.”
“She will tell Usagi,” Mamoru said, and a part of himself broke. Telling Usagi would make it real.
Behind them, the glass door slid open. Takeshi briefly closed his eyes, but did not turn around. Mamoru did. Minako was teetering on the threshold, her face full of sleep and worry. He met her eyes, and Minako shook her head. No, it was not him she wanted to talk to.
“Takeshi, a word please.”
Mamoru turned back around, and he and his shitennou exchanged a look. The way his jaw was set told Mamoru that his secret was safe with his friend: Takeshi would not tell Minako, which meant that for a few precious hours, Usagi would not need to know. Not yet. Not while there was still hope.
***
Somehow, he had made his escape from the café, sneaking out while a fuming Makoto barked into the receiver. Ando was now hurrying back to the palace. He needed to talk to Umino, and perhaps Rei. But mainly Umino. And then they would need to talk to Mamoru. They could not keep this thing a secret. It was his own fault, really. The second Minako told him about the Outers’ visit, he should have insisted she tell everyone else too, but of course he thought he’d better only tell Umino and Mamoru. Just to keep them in the loop. He’d purposefully left out Hiromasa and Takeshi because those two were difficult enough to handle as it was. Add one more gram of guilt, and Takeshi might snap. Add one more gram of injustice and worry, and Hiromasa might explode.
But not telling them had been a mistake. Mamoru had gone straight to Takeshi, even though Ando and Umino had safely escorted him back to his quarters. Sneaky bastard had just pretended to go to sleep, and then left as soon as his guardians’ bedroom doors closed. It was like the fucking Silver Milennium all over again, only that this time, Endymion was not sneaking to Serenity, but away from her, and Kunzite wasn’t trying to catch him, but waiting for him on the other side.
And if Takeshi knew, then proper protocol was soon to be initiated. Takeshi would talk to... who would Takeshi talk to? Ando stopped dead in his tracks as realisation hit him. Takeshi would seek out Michiru, Setsuna, and Rei. He would try to establish as much information as possible before calling for a meeting with everyone.
Part of Ando wanted to stop Takeshi because if he told Rei, and Rei learned that Ando was partly to blame for Usagi’s daughter never coming into existence, well... Ando was not sure that their relationship was strong enough to survive this. But of course, he couldn’t stop Takeshi. For one, Takeshi would not allow anyone to do so, and also, Ando would never be able to look into a mirror if he forged his happiness out of Usagi’s and Mamoru’s misfortune.
Turning a corner, he hurried towards the palace that was growing bigger and bigger with every step. He wondered how Minako would cope once she found out that the information she’d been sitting on for a week was such a powder keg. How Takeshi would react once he learned that Mina knew--- “Oh fuck,” Ando said, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he punched in Minako’s number.
This is me. I’m busy or lazy or lazily busy. Leave me a message, I might call you back.
Voice mail. “FUCK,” Ando burst out, and broke into a sprint.
***
“What’s going on? Usagi texted Mako to say that Mamoru was here. Why is he here, why isn’t he at home?” Wrapped up in his own bathrobe, Minako looked tiny. Where it barely reached the middle of his calves, on her it went all the way down to her ankles. He loved it when she wore his clothing, and while he never stopped to complain about her stealing his shirts and washing them wrong, his heart always skipped a beat when he returned home at night and found her on the couch with their dog, wearing a button-down of his, or one of his cashmere jumpers.
She looked up at him, alarmed. Seeing her this worried made him want to pull her close, whisper everything that was worrying him in her ear, so that they could find a solution together, but then he would tell her about Mamoru’s daughter, and he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t risk worrying Usagi until they knew for sure that Umino’s fear was founded on solid ground. Because Minako would tell Usagi. Minako told Usagi everything. But not him.
The fact that she had kept this from him stung. For a week, she had walked around with the knowledge of the Outers’ warning, but had not mentioned to him. Not one word. Moments like these had been piling up lately, her not trusting him, taking her worries elsewhere, discussing her concerns with others while brushing his own away.
So Takeshi crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me about the visitors you had on your birthday?”
Minako blinked. “What?”
Takeshi’s green eyes held hers. “You heard me.”
“I... I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been so on edge lately, and I...” Minako faltered and looked up at him. “Did they talk to Mamoru too? Is that why he’s here?”
“No. But Ando,” he laced the other man’s name with disdain, “whom you have informed of the visit, has told him.”
“Ah,” Minako said. “Sorry?”
“Are you?”
Minako looked down at her bare feet. “Not really.” And that was the crux. Minako always believed that when she was shutting him out, she was doing the right thing. As if he couldn’t take it, was some weak creature one could not risk burdening.
She sighed. “Let’s drive Mamoru home. Usagi already knows about Haruka’s and Michiru’s warning, she doesn’t care. Neither do I.”
“Sometimes, Minako, you are remarkably near-sighted. Go back to bed, I will take care of this.”
Despite himself, he bent down and placed a kiss on her temple. “Go.”
She reached for his hand, holding it tightly. Stubborn and insistent, she clung to him. His skin was icy from having spent hours outside, hers was still burning from sleep.
“Don’t make this into more than it has to be. One stupid warning. One stupid prophecy. I was told I would never be allowed to be happily in love, and yet we found each other again. Don’t listen to Haruka and Michiru, don’t brood. Let’s take Mamoru home, and then we can have a nice day.”
“Hmm. That’s what you were told?” The way he looked at her, so completely accepting, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Takeshi...”
Prying his hand loose, he shook his head. “Mamoru needs me today. You will have to make other plans.” He turned around and made his way back to the garden, sliding the glass doors shut behind him, leaving Minako on the other side.
Trapped behind the glass, Minako had to resist the urge to put her fist through it as she watched him sit down next to Mamoru again under the tree.
***
In the palace, everything was quiet. Everything except for the kitchen, where Usagi Chiba, the world’s worst cook, was currently trying to make a casserole. She’d mastered breakfast, but Sunday lunch, the burned casserole was insistently communicating to her, was still beyond her.
“Usa?” Ami’s sleepy voice interrupted Usagi’s endeavour to save the casserole by dumping some more cream and water on it before shoving it back into the glowing baking oven. “It’s seven-twenty. Why are you... is that lunch?”
Usagi turned around, a bright and slightly manic smile plastered all over her face. “Oh, Mamo didn’t come home tonight, and I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d learn how to make a casserole.”
Befuddled, Ami stepped inside the kitchen. It was pandemonium. On the stove, remnants of garlic and onions were still sizzling in a pan, a cloud of black smoke rising from it. The smell was horrible and stung in Ami’s eyes. “Can we turn the extractor hood on?”
“The what?”
Ami pointed to the silver contraption over the stove. Usagi blinked. “Oh, that’s not only there for the lamps?”
Where everyone else would have teased Usagi, Ami simply walked over and switched the extractor hood on and soon, after washing a pan or two, and opening a window, the stinging smell of burnt garlic began to dissipate.
Working around Usagi, who was still adding things to the casserole, unwilling to believe it was too far gone to save, Ami made coffee and set the table for two. Umino was still asleep anyway, Rei never came down to this kitchen for breakfast, which only left Ando, who would be quite happy to get his own mug and plate. Ami found that the journalist was surprisingly pleasant to live with. He was easy-going most of the time, went out of his way to be nice to Usagi and herself, and Umino loved having him around.
Things had changed since Ando’s return, and Ami was one of the few who whole-heartedly felt that it was for the better. The changing city was scary, but ever since she and Usagi had transformed (and thus repaired) the temple, and a few other buildings since, Ami felt that they were heading in the right direction. She remembered the glimpses of Crystal Tokyo from the future; even in times of destruction, the city had exuded a quiet sort of hope. The crystal was such a fascinating substance, so astonishingly easy to mould, its areas of application limitless. They could create buildings out of thin air, could pave roads and build bridges. And then there was the potential for it to heal. She hadn’t spoken about it to anyone, no yet, but Ami was sure that if in the future, the crystal could be used to protect Serenity from Nemesis, there must be a way to make use of those protective qualities in medicine. She had already taken some smaller samples of the crystal, chipped from a wall somewhere in a tower, and had begun to analyse them under the microscope. Tomorrow, she would get some diseased cell samples from the hospital and mix them with the crystal. If she was right, then they could use the crystal to fight all sort of diseases----
“Ami?” Usagi’s voice brought her crashing back to reality.
“Yes?”
“Did Mamoru say something to you? Why he didn’t come home last night and went to Takeshi’s?”
Ami blinked. “No, I didn’t even know he went anywhere but here. Last thing I knew was that Umino and Ando came to fetch him from the hospital round three.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, he’ll be here in time for lunch, right, and then we can eat... this.” She nodded in the direction of the casserole, and Ami winced. “Usa, when it’s burnt like this, it’s full of toxins. It’s not healthy.”
Staring down at the casserole as if it had transformed into a dead kitten, Usagi’s eyes welled up. “I just wanted to make some lunch,” she whispered, and the first big tear dropped onto the crystal floor, soon to be followed by another one, and another one, until all Ami could do was to reach out and pull her friend in for a hug. “Usa, we can make a new one together. It’s fine.”
Sniffling, Usagi shook her head. “You can’t cook either, Ami, and we’re out of cheese.”
A voice from the door interrupted the sad scene.
“Easy there, waterworks. Umino can cook, even without cheese. Ami, go wake him, he’ll help.”
It was Ando, red-faced, slightly sweaty, and a bit out of breath.
Always more used to taking orders than giving them (unless a medical emergency was at hand), Ami let go of Usagi and went to wake her boyfriend, an almost impossible endeavour before ten in the morning, but if Usagi was crying, and all that could make her stop was preparing lunch for the mysteriously wayward Mamoru, then lunch they would make.
Watching Ami leave, Ando remained in his place in the doorframe for a few seconds longer before shedding his jacket and scarf and moving into the kitchen. He’d planned to talk to Umino, get him to call Takeshi, and then take it from there, but a crying Usagi kind of ruined that plan. Hell, a crying Usagi ruined any kind of plan. Was she crying because her husband didn’t come home, or because she knew about her daughter? One thing was for sure, it was not because of that damn stinking casserole.
“What’s going on, breakfast fairy? Too early for lunch anyway,” he said in a vain attempt to console her over something that probably didn’t bother her anyway.
Still crying big tears, Usagi tried to smile at him, and failed. “I know.” She wore her hair in pig-tails again, which made her look even younger, and with all the tears, sadder too.
“Oh, come here, you,” Ando said, and Usagi went in for the hug. Stroking her back like he’d seen Makoto stroke Aiko’s after she bruised her knee last week, he held his prince’s wife. “What are you really crying about? Mamoru not being here?”
Usagi nodded against his shoulder dug her hands into his back.
“He’s at Takeshi’s. You know Takeshi. He’ll take care of him.”
“Something’s wrong,” Usagi murmured, and Ando could feel her tears soaking his shirt. “It’s because of Michiru and Haruka, isn’t it?” Her voice was muffled, and she sniffed.
Ando pushed her a bit away and looked at her. “You’re a lot smarter than people give you credit for, you know that?”
That brought a tiny smile to Usagi’s face. “Yeah.”
“So you know about Michiru and Haruka?” His beart began to beat faster. She might know about the prophecy, but he doubted she had cottoned on the child-in-danger-part. And that was when Ando realised, at 7.29 in the kitchen on the ground floor of the scary crystal palace on the last Sunday of October, that he would have to be the one to tell her. He couldn’t lie to Usagi. He couldn’t.
He would be the one to tell her. And Mamoru would hate him for it.
***
The drive to Setsuna’s penthouse in the city centre was a quiet one. Takeshi easily navigated the BMW through the empty streets of Tokyo, eyes always on the road, indicating left, right, left. Some streets still looked completely normal, but others were changed. Crystalline spires were adorning them more often than not, a constant reminder of all that had gone wrong. Mamoru looked out of the passenger window, but as the city raced past him in a silver blur, he found his mind wandering.
For weeks, he had been telling Takeshi not to worry, that everything would be fine, to keep their eyes on the prize. He should have known that something was wrong when his lead shitennou so stubbornly insisted on doom all around them. In the past, Kunzite’s instincts had always been excellent. He could smell trouble from months and miles away, and in all the years they had been friends, both in this life and the last, Mamoru could think of only one instance when Kunzite’s instincts had been proven wrong.
This instance had of course been catastrophic beyond belief, and to this day, Mamoru refused to so much as waste one minute remembering his men turning on him. He had forgiven them, and like Usagi’s, his forgiveness was absolute. He had just never expected it to come with a price tag.
He had turned into a man with the belief in Crystal Tokyo already firmly in place, had met his daughter when he himself was still a boy at 18. Chibi-Usa was such a big part of their lives, and a part of him had been waiting for years to finally meet her in her own time. But since the shitennou had awoken, the princess had not been seen. Of course, Mamoru and Usagi had broached the subject with Setsuna, but the senshi of time had patiently explained that Small Lady’s time-travelling adventures had been the exception, not the norm, and now that the girl’s parents were no longer battling Nemesis, it was only to be expected that she stayed put. Mamoru had accepted it without doubt: he wanted Chibi-Usa to be safe, and time-travelling was dangerous. So much could go wrong, one could so easily loose oneself in the mists of time and space. One step out of place, one dropped time key, and that was it. It had been a relief to know that Chibi-Usa was safe and thus assured, he had begun to live a life with his men in it.
A red light brought them to a stop.
Takeshi cleared his throat. “Do you think Setsuna would be willing to travel to the future to make sure that your daughter is alright?”
Would she? Time and time again, Setsuna Meioh had told them that the future was not their business, that the gate needed to remain shut, that the road ahead was not yet their concern. But if she would make an exception for anyone, it was for Chibi-Usa. She loved the child as if she were her own. “I hope so.”
***
He took her hand and guided her to the table. Usagi sat down, and Ando looked around the kitchen, with its messy bowls and pots and pans everywhere. “Umm, do you want me to make you a cup of tea?”
She sniffled. “No.”
“Chocolate?”
She shook her head again.
“Ice cream? Pancakes? Want me to steal you a pony somewhere?”
Her bottom lip began to tremble.
“I could take you to Mamoru, you know? I have a pretty good idea where he’s going, we could take Ami’s car and---”
Wiping the tears away - a futile endeavour, since new ones immediately took their place - Usagi looked up at him, big blue eyes pleading. “What didn’t Minako tell me about Haruka’s and Michiru’s visit?” There really was no way out of this.
Sighing, Ando pulled a chair over and sat down, reaching for Usagi’s hands once more. Damn. He hated this. Hated this more than anything, more than his parents, more than the horrible first two years in Tokyo, more than every single fucking birthday his parents had forgotten over the years. Hands down, this was the worst experience of Ando Tanaka’s life.
“Minako told you everything she knew. And from what I’ve heard, the Outers told her everything too, but neither Minako nor them connected all the dots.” He paused, trying to find the right words. It’s what he did, dressing up ugly truths in beautiful language, but today, this talent failed him.
“I don’t understand,” Usagi whispered, clinging to his hands.
“They said that everything would change. And Umino thinks that everything,” he swallowed, but the lump in his throat stayed put, and grew with every falling tear of hers, “everything might include your daughter.” Her eyes went wide, and she ripped her hands back as if his words had burned them. “No. No that’s not possible. He’s wrong. I’ve seen her. I’ve seen the future, Ando, I know she’s there.”
A bottle of whiskey. A line of blow. A happy pill. Being hit over the head with a brick. Anything, anything at all to make this moment stop, but the only thing within reach was that burned casserole. She was crying, and shaking her head. “I’ve seen her, seen her so many times. She’s fine. Umino is wrong.”
Hating to be the one to twist the knife, selfishly wishing it could be Takeshi doing this, he continued, his voice almost a whisper. “When you were in the future, did you see us?” If she’d seen only a glimpse of the shitennou, just the shadow of Kunzite, Nephrite’s back disappearing into some sort of secret hallway, Zoisite’s eyes on the other side of a bookshelf, then they’d be okay. Just one trace of a grey uniform. If they were a part of that future, however small and hidden, then her daughter was not at risk, was fin---
“No,” Usagi whispered. “Never,” and crumbled into his arms.
***
There were few people who were already awake, dressed, and hospitable even before eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Takeshi was not even a little bit surprised that Setsuna was one of them.
“Take a seat,” the senshi said and led them into her spotless living room. Grateful, Mamoru sank into a black leather armchair, while Setsuna walked through a door leading to her kitchen, heels clicking on the white marble. She was dressed in precisely the kind of expensive and simple clothing Minako abhorred, Takeshi noticed. A cream jumper, black pants, black heels. No jewelry. As he surveyed her living room, he found that the tasteful and reduced style she favoured in her clothing was also dominant in her furniture. Chrome and glass, clear lines, no fuss. In fact, except for the large watercolour painting of a rose-covered pond mounted on the wall, everything looked more or less like his old bachelor apartment, the one he had lived in before he met Minako.
“She won’t do it,” Mamoru murmured, and looked up at Takeshi, who was still standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. Mamoru had not even taken of jacket and scarf, and Takeshi too was still wearing his trench.
“You don’t know that,” the architect replied. His attention was caught by the sound of a clock ticking somewhere, the only sound that resonated in the room other than his friend’s subdued voice. It was so quiet here. No radio, no television, just silence and the sound of a clock. “It’s not like you to be so defeated before the battle has even begun,” he gently reprimanded Mamoru, thinking back to the many rousing speeches he had heard the younger man give over the years.
“That’s because it’s already over.”
Takeshi turned to Mamoru, denial already on his lips, but then the kitchen door swung open, bringing their conversation to a halt. Setsuna was carrying a tray, laden with china and a few sandwiches.
“Here, let me,” Takeshi offered and took the tray from her hands, setting it down on the coffee table. “Thank you,” Setsuna said, and began to set the delicate china cups on the table. They were white, only adorned with a single silver line round the top. With a steady hand, she lifted the matching teapot and filled three cups. “Sugar, milk?”
Both men shook their heads.
Handing Mamoru cup and saucer, while motioning to Takeshi to please help himself, Setsuna sat down on the couch. “I take it this is about Michiru’s vision?”
“You know about that?” Mamoru asked, the worry momentarily fleeing his features. If she knew and hadn’t said anything, then they were fine. They were fine.
“She wanted me to go to Minako with her,” Setsuna replied and took a sip of her tea. “I did not.” Her eyes met Takeshi’s, who was still standing beside the armchair in which Mamoru sat. “I hope Michiru was not too rude to you. She’s acting in Usagi’s best interest, but she sometimes chooses the wrong tone.”
“I wasn’t home.”
“Oh,” Setsuna said, arching a brow. “I was under the impression Michiru delivered her message on Minako’s birthday.”
“She did. I was working.”
“I see,” Setsuna replied. “And the two of you are here today because...?” Her voice trailed off, and she tipped her head to the side.
“Can you check that everything is well in the future?” Takeshi asked calmly.
The senshi put her cup on the saucer. Mamoru scooted closer to the edge of the armchair, every muscle in his body once more tense with fear.
Even though Takeshi had asked, it was Mamoru the senshi addressed her response to. “Mamoru, you know the answer to that. This is not how it works. I guard the gate, not the future itself. If you want to know whether anyone has trespassed, then the answer is no. All is quiet.”
“Umino thinks Chibi-Usa is at risk,” Mamoru said in a low voice.
That got Setsuna’s attention. She turned to Takeshi, just a hint of worry in her unusual red eyes. “Explain.”
“Michiru argues that our inclusion in Crystal Tokyo changes the genesis and structure of the city and Umino believes it consequently may have an impact on everything that is a part of it. Including Mamoru’s daughter.”
“So you are afraid she will--- she will never be born?” In the kitchen, the clock stopped ticking.
Feebly, Mamoru nodded.
“But I take it that all of you have met the child at some point. If she came from the future and travelled to what is now the past, then her existence must be safe, correct?” Takeshi asked, taking on a tone of authority.
“Time is not linear. I...,” Setsuna took a deep breath. “It’s very complex.”
“Try me,” Takeshi replied dryly. “I can assure you, both Mamoru’s and my mental faculties are rather advanced.”
“If they met Small Lady in the past, then that was because it was a past that contributed to her existence. But if the... let’s call them ingredients, if the ingredients change, then the outcome will be different. The future is never set in stone, and every minute, a new possibility arises. All those possibilities exist up to the point where present becomes future. Only then is the outcome fixed.”
Mamoru looked at his feet. “So we only met the possibility of her?”
“Yes.”
“But from what I understand, you too have seen the child. In the time she belongs to,” Takeshi insisted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“I did, but if I were - and I am not saying I am going to - travel to the same point in time now, everything might be different. She might be there, she might not. I could meet her today, but if I were to set off ten minutes later, something might have changed, one element out of a million, and everything is different.”
“Can all elements change and the outcome still remains the same?”
“Are you asking me about destiny, Kunzite?”
Takeshi flinched.
“Destiny is fickle. Time is fickle. I cannot give you the absolution you seek.”
His jaw clenched. “I am not seeking anything.”
“Oh, I think you are.” They looked at each other, a million unspoken words hanging in the air, but then Setsuna broke away and turned to Mamoru. “Take my advice: talk to Michiru. But talk to her alone, and be aware that there are no guarantees.”
Mamoru nodded and got up, walking out without another word. Takeshi remained behind.
“So you do not believe in guarantees,” he said slowly, pulling the car keys from his pockets.
“No, I do not.” Brushing imaginary crumbs of her pants, she refused to meet his eyes.
Thoughtfully, he nodded. “Is that why you took Ando back?”
“He told you.” Setsuna sounded surprised.
“You terrified him.”
Her head shot up. “He is too bold. Too keen to move forward, not aware enough of his past.” For the first time, she seemed angry, Takeshi noted, her iron control slipping. But the moment passed, and her face became smooth once more. “I would never need to take you back,” she continued, and there was pity in her eyes. “Because you never left.”
“You could argue that a man who spent two years drunk because of what he did in the past could not possibly be any more of aware of his own guilt,” Takeshi replied in a level voice, but Setsuna thought she saw his eyes soften. There was an understanding between the two of them, but it would be disloyal to discuss it.
“Drunk, yes. Aware, no. He needed to be... paused. For just a minute.”
“Next time, I would appreciate it if you would come to me before handling one of my men like that.”
Setsuna smiled. “And here I was, thinking you were just an ordinary architect, with no men to speak of.”
Sighing, Takeshi made to leave. “I wish I was. Thank you for the tea.”
“I’ll take you to the door.” She rose from the leather couch, all grace, and walked behind him. “Do keep me informed. And thank you for telling me about the temple’s resurrection. I take it Usagi is well?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Until we tell her about her daughter, Setsuna.”
***
If there was one thing Umino Kiichi hated, it was being woken early. He loved to sleep. Always had. Ten hours, twelve hours, fourteen hours: he could never get enough. So when Ami stroked his cheek, whispering it was time to get up, he opened one eye, squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and pulled the heavy blanket over his head.
The mattress dipped and the blanket was pulled away. “Usagi is crying, you need to teach her how to make lunch.”
“‘s it lunch time already?” he murmured, this time opening both eyes to peer at the clock. “Ami, ‘sn’t even eight.” She waited a moment, knowing that even the most brilliant of minds needed a moment before it started to fully function. “Wait, what?” Umino finally said, and pushed himself into a sitting position. “She’s crying? Why? Did Mamoru tell her?”
Ami frowned. “Tell her what? He didn’t even come home last night.”
“About Chibi-Usa. And what do you mean, he didn’t come, he came home. Ando and I picked him up round three, he even got home early. He’s not here?” Umino blinked, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Where is he?”
“At Takeshi’s. What’s with Chibi-Usa? Is she okay? Has she come for a visit?”
Umino’s face fell. “Oh, Ami.”
***
Stepping out of the shower, Minako reached for a towel and dried herself off. Not bothering to brush her wet hair, she simply put it in a tight bun on top of her head and hurried into her bedroom. Closet doors were thrown open, and for once, she just picked the first items that fell into her hands. Yesterday’s bra, some clean panties sitting on top of the basket full of fresh but wrinkled laundry, the jeans she’d worn to walk Attila ylast night, the pink jumper from the first clothes hanger in reach, and that was it.
Her purse was still downstairs, as was her leather jacket and the ballet flats she slipped into. She’d forgotten a scarf, she realised belatedly, but that didn’t matter now, no time to run back up. Only when she barrelled out onto the driveway did she realise that Takeshi had taken the car.
Turning on the spot, Minako cursed. Something was wrong, and if Takeshi wouldn’t tell her, someone in the palace would. She just needed to get there first. Forcing herself to think, she went through her options. She could transform and hurry over the roofs. In broad daylight. She winced. No, not that. Someone could see her. She could transform and teleport! That would be quick, but also exhausting, and it would set anyone who ran into her in senshi form unnecessarily on edge. But then again, Mamoru and Takeshi clearly already were, Makoto had sounded positively livid over the phone, and Ando’s missed call from 7.16 didn’t bode well either. A cab or teleportation.
With a colourful curse, Minako hurried back inside, pulling her henshin wand out at the same time as her keys.
***
Following Mamoru’s directions, Takeshi sped down the highway. The Outer’s mansion was outside Tokyo, and from what he had heard over the years, naturally never having been invited himself, it was practically an estate. They used to live in skyscrapers adjacent to the one Setsuna had her penthouse in, but had moved once... once he, Hiromasa, Umino and Ando appeared. Takeshi hated the idea of having driven two people away who had provided such an excellent protection system for Mamoru and Usagi over the years, but all efforts to reconcile the Outers with the shitennous’ return had failed. And efforts there had been many.
Mamoru had already called Michiru by the time Takeshi had exited Setsuna’s building, alerting her that he was coming. “You’ll have to stay in the car,” Mamoru repeated for the third time. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Takeshi said, and looked over his shoulder before overtaking the lorry.
Noticing the blinking sleek black mobile on the wood-lined console, Mamoru picked it up and flipped it open. “Minako tried to call you twice. And so did Ando.”
Takeshi snorted. “Ando called because he just realised that he should have informed me of the prophecy the second Minako told him about it.”
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“My fiancée telling her friend instead of me? Yes, it does.”
“Not only that. Also that they... it used to be different among you. You were their leader.”
Under normal circumstances, Takeshi would have ended the conversation right here. But every second that Mamoru did not sit in torment over his daughter was one Takeshi sought to prolong. He could do so little to ease Mamoru’s worries, but he could distract him. Even if that meant discussing the state of the shitennou.
“I have done very little to assume that position again.”
“I know. You need to understand, Ando and Umino will be always turn to each other first. That’s nothing new.” It was true. Even in the past, the two blond men were always in cahoots with each other. One knew everything about the other, and even though the ability to read minds was Jadeite’s alone, there had never been a single thought in his head that Zoisite wasn’t privy to.
Gripping the steering wheel a little harder, Takeshi side-eyed Mamoru. “I wasn’t exactly in favour of it then.”
Mamoru shrugged and smiled. He fondly remembered many an afternoon when Kunzite had stalked through the castle looking for Zoisite and Jadeite, who, of course, had disappeared to Elysion hours ago. They had a special hiding place somewhere in the magical land, but Kunzite had never found it, had never been able to drag them back. More than once, the prince had wondered whether the land didn’t shift around the two culprits, hiding them from view. Elysion was benevolent like that, at least if it liked those wandering its meadows. Also, it played favourites, and unfortunately for the commander of the shitennou, he had never been one of them.
Takeshi changed to right lane again. “But you still come to me first, and I am inclined to think that this matters more.”
Stretching his legs (glad that the X5 allowed for such spacial luxury), Mamoru leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “Hiro comes to you first too. Don’t let him hear that it means less to you.”
“I know.”
The land raced past, and more and more green took the place of buildings, and the further they sped away from the city, the less crystal was to be found. Fir trees dominated the landscape, tall and green and unchanging. Here, you almost couldn’t tell that autumn had long since started, were it not for the odd leaf-bearing tree peaking out between firs, leaves golden, russet, and falling. You also couldn’t tell that just fifteen miles behind them, a crystal rose to cover the city.
“If you want them to see you as their leader again, then you will have to--” Mamoru stopped as suddenly as he had begun. There was no way to phrase it that Takeshi wouldn’t take as either insult or criticism.
“Act like it?”
“Well, yes.” So much for that.
“Don’t worry, I will. Umino saw to that.”
Mamoru frowned. “I’m not following.”
“You’re sitting in the car with the head of the Crystal Tokyo Citizen Taskforce.”
“You sound excited,” Mamoru replied and grinned.
“Oh, utterly. I am in rapture.” Only one person. Only one person in the world for whom Takeshi would make light of his misery, and that person was sitting in the passenger seat.
“So is this your new hobby? You will go to meetings in the evening, hand out flyers on the weekend? I have a hard time imagining that.” Mamoru chuckled.
“It will be a bit more demanding than that, but I am afraid that at some point, flyers and evening meetings will be involved.”
“That’s Umino’s payback for making Ami cry.” Mamoru was still grinning when he spotted the exit sign, thus missing the dejected expression that flitted over Takeshi’s features for a second.
***
Ando wasn’t in his tower room. He also wasn’t in Ami’s and Umino’s bed with the two of them plus Usagi, having breakfast. Changing back into her civilian form, Minako felt more and more nervous with each room she peeked in only to find it empty. Usagi’s and Mamoru’s apartment: nothing. Throne room: nothing. Round room: nothing. Minako decided to try the kitchen they’d been in yesterday next, and then head to Rei’s quarters. There was no way in hell Rei would let everyone into her living room at the same time, wreaking havoc, but they had to be somewhere.
“Minako?”
Minako whipped around, only to find herself eye to eye with Rei, dressed in yoga clothes. “So not in your room, then,” she murmured, and Rei frowned. “Who?”
“Everyone.”
“I think they are in the kitchen.”
“Let’s go then. And Rei, I have to tell you something. Michiru and Haruka---”
“Ah, so that was why Ando had to come to you on your birthday,” Rei interjected, and Minako nodded, while dragging the former priestess down the corridor by her elbow. “Minako!” Rei protested, but the blonde ignored her.
“Yes, yes, that’s why. They came over with some sort of prophecy, pretty much the usual, and I told Ando and Usagi and didn’t make much of it, but now everyone is freaking out and Mamoru didn’t come home last night because he was sitting under my flipping cherry tree with Takeshi, all weight of the world on his bloody shoulders, and something is up, and we’re going to find out what that is!” Minako was picking up more and more speed, until both women broke into a soft run.
“This is ridiculous,” Rei snapped, and snatched her elbow back, skidding to a stop.
“Rei, move!”
“Minako, if anyone were in mortal danger, they would have called us. And I refuse to run through the palace for anything but life-threatening emergencies. So we will walk.” Rei gave Minako a disapproving look (one that reminded Minako of her mother and manners, girl, manners) and set a normal pace. Fuming, Minako followed her. “So you don’t know what’s going on either?”
“Clearly, I do not, since neither my boyfriend---”
“Aww, that’s the first time I heard you call him that,” Minako said, a genuine smile blooming on her face.
“--- since neither my boyfriend nor my friends see fit to tell me that some sort of prophecy has been made,” Rei continued pointedly. “And I would just like to say that Michiru’s mirror is anything but failsafe. Visions of the future, any vision, by anyone, is always tinted by how the receiving person sees the world.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You never asked.”
“Do you still have visions, Rei? Did you see our future? Is it a good one?”
They turned a corner, and Rei held an arm out to stop Minako. “Do you hear that?”
Minako pricked her ears. “Usagi. She’s crying.”
And just like that, in a palace, in a non life-threatening emergency, Rei Hino broke into a run.
***
“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” Mamoru said grudgingly. Michiru, clad in a white silk dressing gown, her aquamarine hair piled up on top of her head with only a few loose curls escaping, shrugged delicately and examined her perfectly manicured fingernails. Even at this ungodly hour, she was wearing a diamond ring and matching earrings. “I expected you earlier than today.”
“What did you see?”
Michiru craned her head in the direction of the large window. “Did you leave your guard dog at the door?”
“Don’t go there, Michiru, not today,” Mamoru almost growled, his patience at an end, “just tell me what you saw.”
The musician sighed dramatically and turned back to him. “If I tell Minako that the future is at risk, and that our peaceful world will never be because of your friends, what do you think I saw?”
“Did you see my daughter in the future?”
Michiru crossed her legs, holding the dressing gown shut with one hand. “No.”
Mamoru closed his eyes. “This is bad.”
The senshi of deep waters began to laugh, soft, tinkling and full of disdain.
“How is this funny to you?” Mamoru shouted and jumped up. “This is my daughter, Michiru, MY DAUGHTER!”
“You are worried about one child? One? Oh, you foolish, silly man. It’s not just your daughter that’s at stake here, it’s all of us.” She got up and walked to a small drawer at the other side of the room. “For years, we have warned you. Warned you that they are harbingers of doom, bringing nothing but destruction, but you never listened.”
Michiru pulled open one of the drawers, and returned with the Deep Aqua Mirror. “Well, it’s time you saw for yourself.” The glass was already swirling with images, red, and black, and grey.
“Here,” she handed it to Mamoru, who took it with dread.
“Now look,” she said, waving her hand over the mirror, and the colours took shape.
Smoking crystal columns. Fallen towers. The ruins of a palace. Tanks barrelling over the living and dead alike.
Somewhere in the distance, an explosion.
“Venus! VENUS, come here, HERE!” Jadeite, waving like a madman. And Venus running towards him, blood on her face. “I couldn’t find her!”
Jadeite reaches out and roughly pulls Venus into the sidestreet he is hiding in. Bombs begin to rain down in the distance, thrown from air vessels with perfect aim. Another part of the palace is aglow with flames. Venus looks over her shoulder, panic in her eyes. “If she’s still out there, we need to find her. We need to get her to safety! This whole thing could blow up any minute now!”
“Zoisite and Mercury have her, she’s in hiding already. We need to go to them and lay low for a while, come on.”
A flash of white light illuminates the darkness, and behind them, a tall figure appears. Jadeite tries to drag her further into the street, but Venus is digging her heels into the ground. “What about--”
“You’ve got the Queen? Good, then you can take me to her and all of this can end.” All colour leaves Venus’s face, and she slowly turns around. Jadeite immediately raises his hands, which begin to sprout flames.
“Tak-- Kunzite,” Venus corrects herself, and the Love Me Chain appears in her hands. Betrayal is written all over her face.
Kunzite looks at Jadeite, not a muscle in his face moving. “Endymion is safe, go get the Queen, and then Nephrite and I can hide her too.”
“She won’t leave her people and her city,” snarls Jadeite. “This is her home.”
“This?” Kunzite glances over his shoulder. “Her people are the ones raining bombs down on the palace, without warning or announcement. Hundreds have died, and this is just the beginning. This experiment has failed. Don’t be foolish. I have an agreement with Wiseman, we can leave, as long as we leave now.”
Venus takes a step forward. “Crystal Tokyo is not an experiment! We need to gather our strength, not give up.”
He presses his lips into a thin line. “Aiko is dead. Jupiter is in critical condition. We have not been able to establish contact with Uranus and Mars in days. This is over. We will retreat to Nemesis, and stay there. It’s the best I could negotiate, given the circumstances.”
“THIS IS NOT HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!” Venus roars---
and the mirror faded to black. Michiru caught it just as it dropped from Mamoru’s hands.
“Forget about Crystal Tokyo, Mamoru.”
Her voice was deceptively soft. He looked up at her, blinking. The white furniture around him, the pastel watercolours mounted on the walls, the windows, her sea green eyes, all became the canvas on which he saw the destruction of his home replaying over and over again.
Michiru got up, mirror in hand. She stroked its shiny surface as if it were a lover.
“Prepare yourself for Nemesis, Mamoru,” the senshi murmured, “it’s our new home.”
*** End of Chapter Six***
Onto the Interlude.
And onto chapter 7.