Sailor Moon 1. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Prologue : Envy

Epoch Augmented

Volume I - Stigmatized 

Prologue: Envy

By: Juki

                                                Gossamer petals lifted from their earthy hands and scattered amongst the joyous sounds of festivities beneath human delights. A celebration of hope and harvest, of the golden years that were left behind and the future yet to come. The steady beat of the distant resounding of drums accompanied by the rhythmic movements of the dancer, indeed made the Autumn Festival a specimen never one should be absent of. No tainted florescent lights but only the swaying paper lanterns hanging on a wire that strewn across the reserved opening just outside the city of Minato-Ku. Warm washes of colours blended with the mellow lights along with the divine compliments of the kimonos docking the streets with laughter, abandoning all duties and worries behind. Sweet aromas of home styled cooking, ancient methods, renewed and modified as ashen smoke rushed through the chimney of the smoking house, the scent of misu in the other, dancing and entwining like lovers in midst of passion. 

Rectangular shops opened to the public with the gentle riveting of the banner above that started and ended the festival on a long dirt road at the border of the city park. Within the glorious merriment stood a particular childishly decorated store with a green and red top folding and a large wooden crate insulated with plastic to keep in the water along with vibrant goldfishes painting the clearest of all water with Midas and silver. Enchantment on sight as a young woman knelt by the children and shared their innocent songs while with her pure and untainted hands, prodded for the dancing treasures of the shallow oceans. The sky ornate of thousand stars ever so bright like diamonds in the sky, not a single cloud in the evening heavens that brought equal if not more beauty than that of the day. The serenity of the beholder almost overwhelming and inspiring as far off among the crowd stood a man, gazing longingly at this fantasy shop and within a wind's whisper…vanished as if he were never there. If one would have seen the five, would testify that the galaxy indeed have missed those brilliant five stars made mortal with flesh the scent of roses and beauty. 

That fantasy shop of wonderment and dreams only shared among those who are fortunate, to those who seek them and to those who are pure at heart and purer in souls. Almost unreachable, this moment, the only parting between reality and metaphysical time, soon ended as an unsolicited darkness dawned upon them all with the acute picking up of the eastern shore wind. One of the five with a bucket of water, added to the giant pond of wood while a few others aided the children in their escapade of prodding for fish looked on without a care. The other stopped in her movement, this saintly revelation seeker, gifted, stopped at her movement with the contaminated wind that no one else seemed to have noticed. "Rei,…Rei…" A distant voice drowned out by the whirring of the angry message spoken through the winds, she stood up and gazed out into the night and saw nothing that would alarm her but could not ignore her instinct.

"Rei…" Came that far off echo once more that finally drew her back to reality to a young woman with the warmest of all smiles adorning an indigo kimono with threads of gold sewn in vivacious strands of vines. She had been the one pouring the new goldfishes into the miniature pond to allow the children more choices as she looked to the mystical one that had paused and seemed as if she had been deprived of merriment. "Are you alright?" She asked while standing off on one side stilling the wooden bucket in her hand with a few silver fishes glistening beneath its drawing waters.

"Y-yes…everything's fine." Rei replied softly while drawing her gaze from the sky to something more beautiful, the love of one of her dearest friends. How could she ever describe? This premonition of something unsettling, she could not possibly burden them with such uncanny believes and soon drew back to her task at sweeping the stand. The moment of surreal emotions passed as her heart relieved again, 'Maybe it was just a false alarm…' She thought to herself while turning around to sweep the russet leaves shrouding the ground to the side and paused again when distinctly she heard the raucous cry of ravens. The world around her became dark as she stared narrowly forward to find herself within the future, one…with the future. A silhouette among the whiteness around her…the contrast, dramatic. Unable to identify anything except for the silence that screamed in her ear in the form of a high-pitched sound, deafening in its irony that silence could be so loud. Her eyes locked with the silhouette, though can not see its eyes, knew that there is a connection as both of them spun around facing each other with the realm slowly fading into nothing. The feeling she received a combination of oppression and maliciousness to the extent it frightened her to the most for she knew those who are oppressed, through it, develops enmity. "Who are you?" Her voice bounced around the invisible walls while the silhouette stirred and extended its hand towards her. Puzzled and indecisive she asked herself, 'Should I take it?', and with the fear of never returning she denied the hand and only waited for the answer to her question. "A forgotten past." The silhouette replied, the sound of a woman she interpreted. "The past?" Rei asked in doubt and cocked her head slightly to the side, contemplating. "Your oppression is beyond that I have ever seen."

"History always repeats itself." The silhouette identified as a woman stated, "History _will_ repeat itself."

"Rei?" A hand on her shoulder with a soft nudge, immediately brought her back to this world as she gasped and looked up. Had she been staring for long? How long? Unable to know the time she looked to the owner of the hand and saw a tall woman with the flames of a warrior in her eyes, "Do you need to rest?" The woman asked her. Rei shook her head, "No, I-I'm just a little bored, that's all." She lied.

"What's that?" A child pulled on her red kimono and pointed to the far off distant, veiling behind the tall dank trees as something wavered behind it, something subtle but present. Rei stepped in front of the child protectively as her ears plugged up from something sudden, a gust. Many are still oblivious to this melancholy presence until an explosion of light broke through the crowd and cleared a path. A figure emerged from the circular vortex, the tear in the realm, gloved hands snagging tightly onto the reality, a leg, the other, and emerged a familiar looking woman…battered. As she is propelled out of this mysterious tunnel of darkness it closed behind her as she looked around her and then to the woman aligned in her path. Her eyes scanned over the woman still oblivious to this, pouring water in a pool, her back turned. "Y-you…" She cried out in rage while she staggered forward, "You're the cause of this!"

Rei looked between the two, her feet planted firmly on the ground, she could not move. "Behind you!"

The woman pouring water paused and stood up at the warning as she slowly turned around to come face to face with a pillar of obsidian prowess coiling from the offender's extended hand. Her fingers released the bucket of water as the energy veered open and engulfed her long before she could release a word. Her body ceased in the wicked tyrannous force, the last of all she could see is a man standing off in a distant holding an umbrella with a knowing look on his face before darkness became her vision. With the sound of the bucket piercing and shattering upon impact on the ground came her body limply scattered onto the pool of water, breaking the pond of wood, falling through the narrow breeches that held onto the stand and onto the ground drenched in water and blood. Her ending scream of anger swept across the silence as her shoulders trembled from her force. "Sailor Moon…" The woman spat out coldly, "Y-you caused me his love…" The woman's eyes welled up with old tears trailing down old paths as she heaved and staggered forward, relentless. "I am marred as a traitor because of you…" She breathed out exasperatedly and took another bold step. "Dimando is **mine**!" The woman almost fell forward but stifled herself and stood a metre from the fallen victim. "You…" She whispered before collapsing onto the ground, weakened and like the vortex…faded into nothing as the last scene of her is upon the ground, battered with her emerald tress sprawled messily around. This seemed to last forever, the silence and awkwardness, before the cry of a distant mother at her poor fallen child shattered it, "U-Usagi!"

                                Sirens and lights flashed across the abandoned dirt road where a white stretcher is carefully rolled into the back of an ambulance truck while a brightly coloured yellow banner circulated around the obliterated fantasy shop, dreams broken, hopes shattered…victimized. Weeping and sobbing were scarce for the stunned are still stunned, the matter unable to be registered, and the phenomenon. Their legs moved by themselves without the mind's consent as they are helped by two policemen that eased them into the separate police cars. Tears rolled down her face, had she only spoken sooner…about the vision, the premonition…the revelation. Looking over her shoulder through the large pane of lined glass…that old fantasy shop to find a silvery silhouette, a man…holding an umbrella…standing in front of the shop…gazing back at her. She blinked and when she looked back, could not find him anymore. 

The on coming hours of waiting felt like torture…the strong scent of astringent and alcohol…the hard long benches, bland white walls…the bold red letters lit up, "Operating." The eight adorning kimonos, oddly in such a night, seemed festive. No one could have imagined, no one could've done a thing, no one was to be blamed…no one told this to Rei. She fidgeted and worked at the handkerchief in her hand, twisting the soft fabric until creases embedded onto the silky material. A young woman with knowledge of medical idealism, evident in her questions, asked the few nurses that had stepped out of the operation room who could only shake their head and answer like the others did, "It is not certain." The woman adorning the light blue kimono, the one who had asked, fell silently to the bench and kept to herself while another with long golden tress paced to and fro…as if pacing would solve the predicament. Another just punished herself by folding her hands, squeezing them harshly and staring at the vinyl tiled floor and asked herself why she had not jumped in front of the frontal blast. 

"W-will Usagi be o-okay?" A young boy around the age of thirteen to fourteen asked his father, his sandy blond hair clustered from having his sweaty hands scrunching up in it. "Will she, Otousan?" The older man with dark rectangular framed glasses looked to the boy, knelt down in his russet kimono and stared him in the eye. As much as he would like to believe he knew, he could as much only say, "The doctors are professionals, they…they will _make_ her better." He wanted to believe the childish lie that the doctors could do everything but in reality…doctors were only mere humans…who made mistakes who failed who…are imperfect. "I think I should go home and pack a few things." Ikuko stammered while she folded her arms awkwardly and then moved them down and started rubbing her arm uncomfortably. "I want to make sure she has everything she wants when she wakes up." Ikuko said as if to herself, her eyes never left the door. "And to…just…make her favourite food so when she comes out she can eat them…and then bring her a few magazines…her favourite teddy bear…she'd want that…and…"

"Ikuko…stop it…" Kenji shook her and then embraced her when he could sustain no longer and started to weep with silent tears. "Don't fuss…" He wanted to tell what was on his mind…that Usagi might not even make it out alive…whichever, he was kind enough to spare her of that thought. "We'll get her what she needs when she gets out."

A man, flustered and dishevelled, ran out of the elevator, his shirt buttoned wrongly, his eyes bewildered. "Where's Usagi?" He asked and was greeted by Minako who he nearly crashed into. Minako held back her tears strongly despite the hollowness she felt inside…that maybe they might never see her again. "S-she's in there…the doctors are operating." Mamoru turned towards the operating room to see the sign still on, "How long has she been in there?" Minako looked at her watch and stared at the numbers blankly, "I-I don't know…about…"

"How long!?" Mamoru asked again, his voice raising, anxious. "Two hours…or so…I don't know, don't ask me, don't ask me!" Minako shook him away and covered her ears, "I don't know…" She sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands while Makoto inhaled sharply. "She's going to make it, she's strong." Makoto breathed out, sounding too uncertain to be comforting. "She's…she's got to be alive…she's going to be our future Queen…she can't die like this…" She whispered that and did bring some temporary relief. "It's my fault…" Rei stated flatly while staring off, "I saw it coming…why didn't I say anything?" Mamoru joined the bench of sorrow and fault as he buried his head in his hands and sighed, waiting…that is the hardest part…truly, this devastation left them all _stigmatized_.


	2. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter One: An...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I - Stigmatized 

Chapter One: An Old Foe

By: Juki

                                                Bells resounded along the countryside as petals of white roses scattered across the beautiful plateau with evergreens and pines knitting a tranquility of a forest for shelter. Her hand rested in his own…frolicking across the endless rolls of verdant sways. Beside them, close friends and relatives…join in laughter and joy, applauding as the newly wed couple walked hand in hand down the aisle as confetti sprayed through like festive rain. Among the audience stood a man with an umbrella despite the glorious weather. He could tell it was near the late afternoon for the sun sat western towards the northern point, the blazing sun emitting the most pleasing of heat waves. He glanced over at her, beautiful as can be, his new bride…stopping at the moment as they locked gazes…her infinite ceruleans gazing into his sensual Prussians…a match made in heaven. He closed his eyes as he leaned down…softly he pressed his lips against hers and believed then that it was meant to be. As the lip lock lasted, a gust swept across as his bride fell silently onto the ground with the pouring rain and thunder clashing across the wedding day. Frightened and despite his will to run up to her, he only moved backwards, distancing himself from her unwillingly as he moved further and further away until he stood as an outsider in the pouring rain. The man with the umbrella walked along the deafening cries of the audience at their fallen friend and Queen. His umbrella shielded the rain as he stood over the fallen Queen, and with his stance he looked towards him. "This will be Queen Serenity's fate…if you and her were to be married." Seemingly this dream felt like nothing new, déjà vu? Along the lines of consciousness he knew he had a similar dream…just like this. Many years ago, it was a test of his love for Usagi but now that it had been the following night of Usagi's attack…being hospitalized overnight, he couldn't help but wonder…

                                His eyes sprung open from the thought, from the contemplation and he sat up heaving for air as if he had been drowning. Drenched indeed, in his own perspiration, made like the river, cooled his warming worries as he glanced towards his balcony to find a man standing on it with an umbrella. He stared at the man to test if he were real, the man had his back turned and leaning on the balcony railing, stared up at the full moon in the sky hanging over like a star, gleaming ever so brightly. The white umbrella slowly turned, signifying the holder must be turning the handle and with one full turn the man stood up straight and slowly turned towards him. With his hand he pointed up to the sky, he followed it to find a blackness devouring the moon from beneath and then a full lunar eclipse in the middle of the night. The man simply stood there in that position, pointing to the moon and then finally slowly moved to close the umbrella and rested it by the balcony door before fading into oblivion. He blinked to find the moon in place, no eclipse…but there…the white umbrella lay by the glass...startled he slowly climbed out of bed and walked towards it. Sliding the door open, immediately met with a chilly breeze, with trembling hands, picked up the white umbrella and took it inside as he slid the balcony door shut. He examined the umbrella to find it just like any other umbrella…in the colour white. The more he looked at it, played with it, the faster his heart pounded until he could bear it no more and tore his eyes from the tantalizing umbrella, the enigma behind it, to the balcony. Unable to decide what he would do he stepped back towards the balcony where upon opening it, a gust swept into his home, sending the wind chime to a violent shudder, no longer singing a crisp song of wind but a deafening scream of high pitched ringing. He plugged his ears and winced, placed the umbrella down and watched as the moment he released the umbrella, it swung open and levitated with the gust, unable to snag at it in time, watched helplessly as it floated away and disappeared. Behind him, the man stood silently with yet another umbrella, it looked the same, stood behind him for one second with the most ironic of all smiles and then disappeared just before he closed the balcony door and turned around. Suddenly, the sound of music…that old familiar tune that had not played for years, sounded off from his bedroom. Racing towards it he found the star locket on his bed, the moon circling the earth with the soft light illuminating an inch of the bed until the crescent moon stopped its movement and began to reverse its rotation. The music no longer played but is replaced with a cringing sound of mechanic struggle of the locket itself until he could bear it no more and snapped the top shut and hid it in his closet. All these signs…he cupped his head and sat on the bed, exhaling…indecisive…he released a long sigh before closing his eyes and losing his battle to slumber.

                                _Snap_. The crackling of the cedar wood dawned upon the quiet rectangular room, spacious…yet held no other purpose but these. The dim light illuminating from the blazing flames enough to light up half the portion of the room leaving the other in its complete mystery beneath the shadows. Flicking rapidly, gnawing at the fresh wood, eager to make it its own, often clawed out from the holding place and would send sparks of its broken discord out into the milieu. The door divided with pine wood strip columns and then lined with a translucent paper to shield out the rain and wind…sat ajar releasing the tension of the room into the breathless night scene of ever clear heavens of indigo. A woman adorning a sharp red dress pleated and folded in all sorts of accord that met up to the tops of her feet, knelt before the angry flames, praying…asking. The white top folded and tucked into the brightly coloured dress that matched itself to the heart of the fire in colour if not brighter than itself, fluttered. Her long obsidian tress swayed in the distant wind, soft, subtle, her only friend in this strange warped vision, thread its delightful fingers through her hair, riveting in the breeze and brushed. "Kaki…" She spoke in solemn solitude, her hands linked and clasped together tightly as her fine brows furrowed, "Tama…" She breathed out and inhaled the rich fragrance of the flames; "Enlighten me with the future." She asked respectively and bowed her head with her forehead pressed up against her linked hands and began to drift. 

The old feeling of the fire's lingering heat on her face, slowly subsiding for all in her mind is pitch black…and nothing more. Empty of disgraceful thoughts she sought with the approval of her gift and is soon met with a man standing in the rain. His features unable to be identified but he stood there in the pouring rain with an umbrella, gazing back at her with the most ironic of all smiles that seemed to hide a secret…yet not at the same time. Intrigued she slowly approached him, with caution, until she too is battered in the rain and quenched as he lend her part of his umbrella. "Who are you?" Rei asked with much demanding authority and tried to pierce through the shrouding darkness that masked him from her vision. He seemed apathetic to her demands and simply said, "Follow me, and I will show you." Without acknowledging her approval he started to walk, Rei followed nonetheless and looked beneath her feet to find wood…arching upwards, a bridge? He led her up to the highest climax of the bridge and then stopped and simply faced out towards the solitary black that painted the realm its colour. "Destiny has been altered." He finally spoke, shattering the silence like a beacon of light in the darkness, the rain, Rei noticed, had stopped. He leaned over the wet concrete of the bridging fence with the swirling massive pool of darkness into it. "Something promising…a risky gamble that I am willing to pay the price for." He glanced over at her, "It all comes down to the pivoting point…are you willing to accept it?"

Confusion swept over her like a plague, she couldn't understand and with his penetrating eyes upon her, made her all the more fearful of this vision. She looked over the side; saw her own reflection upon the stilled waters yet no one beside; glancing next, there he is once more. A phantom? He did not wait for her answer, "Your time to decide has not come." He told her, "But one of you has and with the decision…will shatter the unity of Crystal Tokyo…will finalize the fate of the Universe." He stated rather flatly and blunt, indifferent in his tone, "Do you want to see what the future holds?"

Rei nodded, "Show me." The man nodded and with a comforting hand on her shoulder, whispered, "Come closer." She took a step closer to him just to hear his hoarse whisper, he spoke gently: "Do you know what quenches a fire?" His grip on her shoulder tightened and with a forceful push, shoved her over the concrete fence. The plummet felt as if it lasted forever as she looked up to see his steely amethyst eyes piercing through the darkness, "Water." With that the rain began to pour again as the umbrella splattered with rain, at last the impact as the water opened and engulfed her within its blackness. She cried as the pool of water began to rage, sharp forceful waves crashing down… Sinking into the water, the fear of drowning, she clawed for the top to never find it and grasp it. Shrouded in the water there in front of her eyes, a woman…holding a sceptre, adorning red that reminded her very much of her very own uniform in battle. The woman matched her in every way and with a low whisper said, "Fire can not quench fire."

                Her eyes snapped open as she is forced out of the vision quickly, gasping for air, she coughed…and to her greatest trepidation…water sipped through her lips. Her hair matted and drenched as she leaned forward with her hand supporting her weight, coughing out…black water. The fire in front of her…put out, leaving her in partial darkness except for the small candle by her side that threatened to disperse in the wind. She clasped her throat and composed herself yet could not overcome the factor of living through a _vision_. Within the rigid fingers of wind…a strong evident gust emerged, she sat up…hearing a mortal groan, forced herself to her feet…clasping something that resembled a pen…holding tightly. He stumbled out of the darkness as the gust subsided; he collapsed onto the floor, battered. Her eyes widened…it couldn't be…his short suave sandy tress, the bluish grey uniform with the verdant trimming…the gloved hands…and his fainting whisper, "Help me…"

  
                He is a general without an army, a soldier without a purpose…despite his history…he might as well hold the future. Shying slightly…but seeing the blood that seeped through the top of his uniform…with trembling hands unhooked it and slowly, button by button, revealed a mortal wound, vile. She dabbed it and much to his fortunate self, is too unconscious to feel pain. With a cotton sheet soaked in astringent she pressed it up against the marred flesh on his lower abdomen and then with the help of gauze, held it in place. His body's temperature well below ice, he felt cold and rigid but still breathed. Washing the ash off of his hands and face…dabbing the warm cloth across his cheek…she had to remark it had been a long time since she had seen him. She was certain he had fallen to his demise but then again…Esmeraulde…hadn't and had lived…to attack Usagi. 

Her hand stopped, perhaps she is nurturing an enemy, what if his purpose was to come back…and harm them? Yet she couldn't lead the heart to let him suffer, rubbing his face quickly she pulled a heavy blanket over him, took his uniform and exited the room. Her mind fixed with a thousand scattered pieces, bumped straight into a tall man a few years beyond hers, he studied her perplexed expression, walking by him as if he wasn't there…and felt his heart crumble at that old ache once more. Knowing the incident with Usagi he didn't bother to question her…this time and went on his way, hoping that she would recover soon, his Rei. She walked into the washing room, looked at the uniform top…the thick rayon…the scent of musk and spice…she tore her eyes off it, she could never forget what he had done, and roughly stuffed the uniform into the washing machine and with a handful of detergent, sent the fabric tumbling in hot water. Sleep is far beyond her reach, knowing she could not rest without knowing her friend's fate, the threat of 'mental illness'…left her all the more agitated. Leaning up against the vibrating machine she stared off at the clothes hung to dry on a string by the hot water furnace, what if…?


	3. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter Two: To...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I - Stigmatized 

Chapter Two: To Be A Man

By: Juki

                                                The cackling of the ravens screeched from the outside, the sound of rattled hay against stoned floors reached his ears, stirring him from his peaceful rest. Countless scents of jasmine and cherry blossoms filled his nostrils with its delectable innocence. His eyes fell towards the opened door overlooking a familiar secluded yard where a young woman is sweeping while extending her hand out with seeds for the twin ravens flapping and cackling in glee. His fingers thread through his sandy tress, brushing it over his head as he sat up and directed his line of vision towards her. Had this woman saved him? Glancing down, his less than fatal wound bandaged and sought after, his dirty uniform cleaned and folded neatly by the side next to the burning incense, he felt...grateful. He remembered this place…many years ago he had come to this place…took up the job of a tender in attempts of selling foul charms to collect energy for a venomous woman who in the end, left him no chances for his failures that, in the past, had been met up with his victories.

Feeling foolish he groaned and buried his head in his hands, covering his eyes so he wouldn't have to see…see what he is reduced to… His legs drew up, parted, his bare back bowed forward as he released a sharp breath from his gritted teeth. His shirt top slung over his shoulders, he shot up to find a pair of old eyes staring back at his. He remembered her now…this is the woman he had taken advantage of, the woman who believed him…at least for a short time while he worked in this…this temple. "You'll catch a cold." She stated rather flatly and walked around him. "You're not completely healed yet so I don't advise you to try and leave anytime soon." 

She knelt in front of a wooden tray that sat on the ground, pouring him a cup of cooled tea, he took it and held it in his hands simply to warm them while he stared at her from the corner of his eyes. Does she remember him? She seemed composed, "Are you hungry?" She asked him, being the hostess, she didn't want him starving…she had…purposes for him. He shrugged and turned away, veering his eyes from her to the outside yard where the ravens simply circled the heavens, drawing liquid black flames into the early morning sky. She didn't bother asking again, standing up she gathered her things and he soon discovered he is in her room. "Stay in here." She ordered, he never thought of leaving. Sliding the door just enough to squeeze past, she slid it shut quietly and left him to his business afterwards. 

She returned momentarily after, something he wasn't expecting. She paced around the room, gathering items, but then he realized she is looking for something. He didn't bother asking, this is none of his concern, sipping the warm cup of tea that seemed to fill his veins with life. He breathed into the cup and elevated the vapour up to warm his death-kissed face and quietly...sadly...cleansed his soul with frothy fire. The thought of life itself…intimidated him. He didn't know what has happened through the time he had been away, didn't know what time it is, but at least he knew _where_ he is. He glanced around for a calendar or anything at that matter which would reveal to him his answers, and found none. 

She brushed past him in different attires. His eyes followed her briefly as she walked into the small yard and began looking around. She adorned a red sweater with a long denim skirt, slit crossing diagonally up the back of her slender legs that revealed the tanned boots underneath. The fringe of the denim riveted in the soft wind as she tucked a strand of her obsidian tress behind her ear and continued to search. He looked around himself and there tucked underneath the tatami mat, a red gemmed bracelet. She walked back in, flushed, her heeled shoes tapping up against the beautiful golden wood; he picked it up and then asked, "Looking for this?" She stopped and turned around, flustered, she snatched the bracelet out of his hand, clasped it back on and repeated, "Don't leave this room." She walked towards the bed on the far side, picked up a denim bag and then paced back towards the yard doors where she closed them and finally exited the bedroom, which he decided was for good this time.

                                Solitude, a routine, he would only feel unnatural to not be alone. Glancing through the partially closed yard doors to the pair of ravens in the sky, he wished he could fly…soar once again. To ascend up to the heavens, limitless infinity…to have the boundaries of his desires erased, but something told him it would never be that easy. Everything had a price, he learned…a harsh lesson but he learned. The way he is…he looked at his hands…he had not always been like this…and from his young naïve vision, he thought that possessing power is the element of a real man. To have people tremble and fear him, that would be a man. He could never go back…he could never be just _a man_; he is _the_ man of darkness…and will forever be so until he died. 

Fastening his fingers into a tight fist he cried out in anguish at his pathetic existence. Whilst the others are honoured, he is humbled and broken. Gripping his wavy bangs in his fingers, locking it tightly as a punishment for himself, he wept bitterly in his hands…unable to shed tears he only sounded humorous in his own ears, a fool…stripped of his manhood. His shoulders trembled from fear, what a woman can do to a man…what power and lust can do to a man's conscience…to his soul, what soul? He replaced his broken discord of a cry with laughter; he had traded more than his freedom for the metaphysical power in his veins. He traded his soul, his spirit, and his devotion, everything that made a man - when in the beginning all he wanted to do was be a man that a woman would want. His eyes closed from the tension he placed upon himself, who is to be blamed? He is. Wallowing in his own self-conceit and pain…he did not see the slight opening by the door as an eye peered through…and for a moment her heart bled for him. 

Mixed with laughter and dry tears he opened his eyes and stared, mesmerized by the grains of the wood paved beneath his feet. The glistening of the polish against the light from the windows, the light he had denied himself just to be the object of desire…when all along he had only been played as a pawn, taunted him. He is no prince…he is no king…only a withered ghost of yesterday. An image from the past…the sound of laughter, the jasmine he dwindled between his nervous fingers…the beautiful woman, in all her beauty and vanity, merely cruelty's mask. Her companions laughed at him while she stood and with her soft hand, twitched the jasmine from his hand and with her own, crushed it. "You're not a man but a boy." A woman a few beyond his years, he just couldn't help as he fled from the discouragement…the brokenness building into anger and self-loathing. 

All because of this cause, this woman, he submitted to another, well beyond his years. A promising life, she had proposed, with no else to turn, the anger burning, he hastily agreed. Yet, he would not admit to himself…as he made love with the woman who had denied him before, that it felt hollow and deprived of pride within. He struck fear, she feared him, and she didn't think he was a man but a monster. _A monster_. How would a woman love a man who cannot cry, cannot feel sorry but remorse for the rest of his life? How can a woman love a man who is a monster without a soul, hands stained with so much blood that it is eternally painted crimson? He gradually calmed, his shoulders stopped its merciless quiver as he simply rested there staring at nothing and mused at what is the future. The enigma of him being set free never occurred to him, only the misery it brought. No redemption…no turning back…too deep in it, drowning. 

                A moment of weakness…she wished she could relieve him of pain, but she couldn't. Walking off silently, a new light…perhaps he is only like any other man…with fears, shed tears, with hopes and dreams…and maybe even love. Not wanting to dwell too much into this enigmatic shady grey, she slid across to meet fate, fate of her companion, of her friend.

                Her expression faulted, "What do you mean?" She asked the nurse who stopped her from the door, "I'm a friend of hers, I want to see her." She tried to side step the man blocking the door, so close yet so far. He reached out and clasped his hand around her wrist. "Miss, not even her family members are allowed to see her." He said, "I understand that you would want to see her, but she's not awake yet and the doctor is doing the routine full body check up on her as we speak…no visitors…until next Friday." With that he ushered her off, standing right outside the door, having to say this multiple times before getting through to her. She walked down the hall, frustrated, the night before had never lasted so long. Sleepless, the charm crumpled in her hot hands, she exited the large white building and never looked back. She didn't know where to go, where else but home? 

Dodging the oncoming traffic of faceless people that she does not know, probably never will know and couldn't care to know. Tears welled up in her eyes, creating an impaired wall she could not lift, causing her to stagger. The feeling of defeat and guilt settled in as she reached the bottom of the enormous staircase that ascended up to her home. Such a long way up…she looked up at the hundreds of steps, too long. She hesitantly climbed a few steps until she couldn't let herself any longer and collapsed onto the step and sat herself down. Trying hard to hold in her tears just to appear to be strong, 'Be strong…', she told herself, however faint and unconvincing it sounded. Inhaling deeply, releasing a quiet whimper, she dabbed her eyes with her sleeves and sniffed for the last time before standing up, putting on her mask and climbed up the rest of the way home. 

As if the day faded on her way up, night came soon after. Adorning her dutiful attires as a Priestess, she slid open the door and then picked up the tray of food for two…his presence still a secret, she hoped. Closing the door she turned to find him sitting cross-legged, staring out at the sky through the opened sliding doors. He did not turn from her entrance but acknowledged it as she set the tray behind him with the clinkering of china against each other. She ate silently; finishing rather quickly before moving to her bed where with her back turned to him, sitting on the soft mattress, opened up her journal and began to write. He slowly turned around after she had picked all that she wanted to eat, examining the odd food and then trying it, he supposed it would do. He watched her looming over something secretly but didn't bother to care what she is doing. Nonchalant, he distanced himself before he would do something hasty and regret it later…just like now. 

These emotions…how he wished that when he had agreed to give up his soul, that he would give away his emotions as well, the tendency to love and be weak…and be grateful...they all stayed with him. The question of 'Why did she save me?' never left his mind as he finished what was left and pushed the tray further away. Boredom…amusing himself he sat up, his legs sprawled apart with his knees drawn up; his eyes locked up to the strange utensils in the tray and began to drift off. His eyes staring but never looking, his mind empty of thoughts as the utensils began to move from the deep vibration of the wooden tray against the ground. His right hand slowly came from his side and draped over his knee, with a twitch of his finger, he levitated the chopsticks into the air and began to sway them around in mid air for humour's sake. The chopsticks veered acutely from the air to the ground where he began to drum the tips against the wood, making a rhythmic beat that he found somewhat entertaining and increased the volume. 

Rei tried to lock out the sound while writing in her journal, unable to do so, she snapped it shut and looked over her shoulder to find him staring off at the tray with chopsticks drumming against the ground in front of him. She grunted, "Be quiet!" She finally shouted and heard the clatter of the chopsticks on the ground when he lost his focus. His icy eyes shot up from the tray towards her and there swept with the hardening gaze, a sharp chilly gust that almost flattened her against the wall if she hadn't been putting her weight down. Her tress fled up into the metaphysical wind, she did not fear him and he could tell. He veered his eyes away after a while and then decided to lie down to stare at the ceiling. She supposed he would be bored…having nothing to do, restricted inside her room…and has to stay there and hide. With the later hours of night, Rei exited and returned shortly in her sleeping attires with a bathrobe. Sliding into her bed, entering the sheets and then untying the bathrobe, she hung it over on the chair next to her head, rolled onto her side with her back to him and stared at the wall while he closed his eyes and never veered them her way. One thing he knew for certain…a real man does not prey on those who saved him.


	4. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter Three: ...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I – Stigmatized 

Chapter Three: Forgotten Past

By: Juki

                                                Soft but noticeable sounds of the sliding door emitted from the side that faced the opened yard. His eyes slowly peeled open, piercing through the darkness as if it were daytime, for being one of darkness, he adapted quickly. Her flannel pyjamas riveted in the night wind as she stepped out into the chilly yard framing branches casting their attires into the wind. She shivered as he rolled himself over and watched as she left the door ajar. Standing in midst of the night, she extended her hand forward with a red pen utensil in her hand and with a silent chain of words…exploded into magnificent light. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him as massive swirls of fire, ribbons, lace and white bombarded out into the yard and soon left the notorious Sailor Mars standing in his saviour's place. He pushed the covers off and snagged the washed jacket by his side, flinging it on he snuck up quietly behind the door and watched as she, with an extended sprint, sprung onto the wall and with a fearless jump, disappeared into the night. Her voice came into his mind to stay, but his instinct screamed at him to follow. Sliding the door open, fastening the jacket nonchalantly, he ran after her, following her trail as he too jumped onto the wall and with a vapour of ice, dispersed into oblivion.

                                Her heavy breath escalading from her quivering lips along with her rigid fingers indicated the dawn of the first frost. The tattering rhythm of heeled shoes against pavement resounded in the empty corridors of the street. A vision…a calling, she turned down the east…and there hovered a grotesque looking black bulb, its shadow merging into the wall, suitably stealth and forbidden. The seed of the beast tore out of its confining cocoon. Spawning from the shrill cries of the awakening, a woman…or so it looked, is revealed. She fanned herself leisurely, unfazed by the twisted talons of her fan, and glanced around with exuberant curiosity. Her flesh tainted steel; accompanied by black attires, she unravelled the fan in her hand to its full blossom as spikes erected as petals and glistened. 

Aware of her presence, the beast slowly cocked her head, almost arrogantly, towards the only beacon of defiance. Without a word the beast bolted into a run towards her, yielding the fan behind as her choice of weaponry. Super Sailor Mars veered out of the way long before the woman had caught anything, or so she thought, from the corner of her eye, a strand of hair had been sheared. With a gasp she found part of her fuku ripped…had the movement of the woman been too fast? That she had been hit without knowing it? The woman stopped and turned around, with a silent chant, released the fan with an extended chain attached to her wrist. "Mars…flame…" A magnificent scene as a bow constructed of inferno melded into her hand upon word, an arrow strewn into its nestled hold, she drew the string as the fan neared in its spiralling madness, "Sniper!" Super Sailor Mars released the arrow of fire that in turn ignited into life and spiralled, finally colliding with the fan and sending it off course until the woman retrieved it with a steady tug of the chain and readied a second assault. The whir of the fan came from behind as she gasped and whipped around to find one…too late to attack…too stunned to block. 

A silhouette shot from the side, amazingly agile, his arm looped around her waist, and together they bolted out of the way of the oncoming spike to halt a metre away. From behind and from the front, the spikes of the fan veered towards them, his teeth gritted at such a challenge and with a cry and an extended hand, ignited a brilliant source of indigo prowess. Shards of electricity bolted from his palm and within a minor second's time, scattered across in angry arrays, a filmy translucent dome exploded into place – crushing everything in its unquestionable force. The perpetual flow of his attack fastened the shrapnel of the fan and quickly began to devour it along with its master. Her futile attempts to break free were evident when she tried to snap the chains off but could find no use for both hands were bound by chains. The ground shattered beneath their feet as Super Sailor Mars watched on helplessly as she is bounded in the same force field as her…needless to say, aid.

 "Attack…" He muttered under his breath, "Now!" A brilliant flame erupted from within the force field and looked as if it would put the two of them to demise before three arrows of fire shot out of the milky dome and with the accompaniment of the electric sparks coiling around the arrows like serpents, shot through the woman who had been held still and seared through her chest and lower abdomen, resulting in a painful scream as the chains shattered from the impact and the beast, defeated. The shape of the woman began to blur until it became nothing more than a dark shadow cast onto the ground. With a formidable release of silver energy, her body marbleized and began its deterioration. Finally, with the sharp approaching breath of winter, her body crumbled into granules of silver and dispersed in nature's majesty. 

The milky force around them immediately flickered away as he cupped his side and toppled over, his wound had reopened. Super Sailor Mars knelt next to him, her hand came onto his shoulder, "Jadeite…a-are you alright?" He cringed and bit his lip, he cocked his head satirically, but his facade is altogether unconvincing especially when he began to stutter, "D-do I **look** a-alright?" Super Sailor Mars looked about frantically, how could she carry him home? As if he had read her mind, his arm came around her waist, pressing her up against his body as if for the first time, felt herself levitate from the ground. It felt as if there were a rounded force around them, lifting them up like a light balloon with cushioned air, and everything seemed to slow down as the softest of a blue light flickered around them, binding them together, thinned into a line and vanished into thin air, leaving the scene with only crushed walls and shattered pavement. A moment later, they emerged a foot above ground in the yard whereas his last amount of energy is spent and he immediately fell onto the ground and might've fallen in worse shape if it had not been her hands that stilled his fall.

                                The city filled with, brief but relevant evidence of something known as "extraterrestrial life form", repetitively played the evidence over and over again – at least once every two hours on the news board cast up to the talk shows that played personnel who _claims_ to have encountered these extraterrestrial life forms. People gathered in front of television shops, large electronic stores, anywhere that had access to television, people gathered. There, the clip that struck the fear of many while doubt as well… 

"And in a moment we will show the clip taken by a store clerk camera that had been facing the window overlooking the hill at the 10th street of Minato-Ku. It's shocking evidence, according to Doctor Keno. I quote, Doctor Keno, 'only the outside realm of the extraterrestrial, whom have access to our world as if of key, could explain the fundamental vision we encounter through unexplainable times. Often one encounter is enough to make us believe, which these extraterrestrial life forms would like for us to acknowledge, their presence and existence among us. Furthermore, these encounters are frequently nocturnal in a sense that perhaps during the dimness of light that these creatures draw enough courage to exert themselves into the eyes of a selective few.' And yet another from Professor Masahiko from UT: 'Extraterrestrial life, ludicrous in its sense but of metaphysical worldly encounters, yes. Could only explain the explicit scene of something likely of a murder to be regenerated into a silhouette such as…such as this clip. With all of my years of psychological studies, I have encountered many a case through neural reading of something known as a _haunting_, targeted to those very weak in the mind or with an eccentric formatting that develop interest. In conclusion, the clip is not of…not of some unidentified phenomenon but of a hidden secret that is trying to break through…beyond human explanations.' These voice clips have not been altered in any format and is respective to its disclaimer of Doctor Keno from Science Union Extra tech and Professor Masahiko from University of Tokyo." The reporter said, "And now to the clip, what is about to be broadcasted has not been altered but is taken from a manual carbon copy of the actual film…viewer's discretion is advised…children under the age of ten should be accompanied with a guardian. Now, let you decide, extraterrestrial or spiritual?" 

The screen blinked black as static began to develop. The occupants standing outside of the door fidgeted for yet the clip had been broadcasted many times through the hours, many has still seen it. Fidgeting uncomfortably from the long wait…then there…the connection of the camera as the streetlight pole blocked out one eighth of the screen but with evident shadowing of light. The perspective is taken through a glass that had a brief reflection of the outside lighting, but evidently, it is night. The time flashed at the bottom left hand corner, 01:38:17 AM. Beyond the spreading of the street where a white vehicle drove past, nothing new…then the dark silhouette of a hilltop that stretched across the street of the ice cream shop that would overlook the scenery of Minato-Ku at night. A tall tree…swayed with a tiny gust and then it emerged. A shadow the shape of…a man…or is it a woman? 

An arm extended against the tree, looking as if he or she is staggering and upon turning to reveal a large shadowy pillar striking through where the arm region would rest. A figure looming a foot away carried out the shrill cry of a young girl, "Don't go…!" The standing figure, long flowing tress swaying in the wind, took a step forward – a reluctant one and then a beautiful ignition of fantastic sparks, a breath of wind to disperse and scatter across the night sky the remnants of the silhouette while the girl who is left behind cried and mourned the sad departure of a shadow. Then blackness after that, many suspected that was the end…and then the camera altered direction and there in a fast flash, almost a blink of an eye, the vision of a silvery silhouette…holding an umbrella…levitating, for his feet did not touch the ground, and roamed several feet higher than the metal fencing at the road, gliding towards the camera…and then static with the ending whisper… "Betrayal…" 

The time flashed at the corner 1:38:17 AM. As if the scene that seemed to last for a few minutes…had no…time change whatsoever. The people gasped as blackness loomed over the static and then with a fast blink, 1:38:18 AM approached and there on the hilltop, no tree, no silhouette…nothing but a hill overlooking the city. Then briefly a face flashed up against the camera, a teal skinned creature…sharp canines, large…very large eyes the shape of a diamond, hissing of the static, disappeared…then the scene flashed back to the reporter. 

"With authorities, this is a genuine security camera capture, warn to…stay off the street at the night time to avoid…fear, panic and possibly danger. Though this is a video that cannot be overlooked, it is also not a legal document indicating a crime, thus the police squad will not take this into hand…by doing so, are they endangering the pedestrians? Are our forces only capable of extending only to our everyday _mortal_ needs? Spiritual or Extraterrestrial, either or, it is among us…with the vilest of all showcase, seem to draw closer to our lives…Mayashibaru Megumi reporting from KSTV…goodnight." 


	5. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter Four: K...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I – Stigmatized 

Chapter Four: Knowledge of The Stars

By: Juki

                                                The blazing sun, indicating the vibrant autumn afternoon, danced across the busy street. Though the story had been frightening, the day brought new courage and strength. There, a man sat in front of the ice cream parlour, dirty…a beggar? Within the busy streets he did not extend his hand for change but only sat beneath the frosty glass draped with bright striped curtains…and then a child approached with his mother, exiting the parlour while licking his ice cream cone as they passed. The man lunged out and with his strong but weakened hands, shook the cone along with the boy in an attempt to snatch it. The woman, the mother, caused a scene, screamed and with her purse, hit him away. "Shame on you!" She cried out loud, stopping many others with her raucous cry, "Stealing ice cream from a little boy? Get a job!" She took her son by the arm, "Let's go get you cleaned up, he probably contracted some disease or something." 

Makoto looked on…grocery bags in hand and turned to the man who covered his face and shivered by the corner. He looked up with tears streaked eyes at the people pointing. Narrowing her eyes, she walked into the ice cream parlour and momentarily exited, sat next to him and handed him an ice cream cone. He snatched it earnestly and began to eat while she studied him, a man in his mid twenties. "What's your name?" She asked but he did not reply but only ravished the chocolate ice cream in less than ten bites and finished. People starred and pointed, Makoto looked at them but ignored their judgement. "Are you hungry?" She asked him, "Do you want more ice cream?" He looked to her, studied her and then whispered quietly, "S-sundae…" Makoto nodded, "Why don't we go inside together? It's too cold to eat ice cream sitting here." She picked up her grocery bags in one hand and then with the other grabbed him by the arm and lifted him up. "Come on…" She said gently and walked him into the parlour. She left him in a seat with her grocery bags while she went up to the front and ordered a sundae. 

His desperate eyes locked onto the glass bowl as she placed it down in front of him and with a spoon he dug in. She watched him eat, seeing him famished…the battered soul, she had never seen him before. He never looked up, but savoured every bursts of sweetness from the multiple flavours of ice cream and as he ate, he wept silently while the coldness got to him and he paused for a moment before finishing the rest. He sat idle, staring at the empty bowl, Makoto felt sorry for him…and asked him again. "What's your name?" He played with the spoon and said, "Naru." Makoto arched her brow at the feminine name. "Your name is Naru?" He thrashed his fingers into his long russet hair and covered his face as he leaned forward and breathed out words in quiet whispers, Makoto, unable to pick it up, placed her hand near his arm to have him draw back with a startled expression. 

"S-sorry…" Makoto drew her hand back down on her lap to feel something wet…she looked down to discover a bright consanguine stain on her hand, looking back to his shoulder, she soon found his wound. "Y-you're hurt!" He shrunk into the seat as she tried to talk him into getting out of the store but he refused. "We need to get you some medical attention…" She tugged at his arm lightly, the violet top torn at the left side. "I'll buy you more ice cream later…if you come with me now." Makoto said, "To the hospital, come on…" She managed to pull him off the seat but he still would not budge. Knowing she couldn't be too harsh physically, she tried to coo him into walking. "N-no hospital…" He shook his head, "Naru…Naru…" He repeated. She shook her head, "Okay, no hospital…I'll take Naru to my house, my house…" She grabbed the grocery bags and then with her hand hooked around his, led him out of the ice cream parlour with him sluggishly following behind.

                                He sat still as she cut the confines of his shirt open and there revealed to her, a relatively tanned upper body, well built…she wondered. With water she dabbed at his wound, studying him to find him mesmerized by the window, neither flinching nor wavering. "You sure can tolerate pain…" She remarked and looked at the wound perched up completely on both sides of his left shoulder, luckily it had missed the heart… "Naru…" He mouthed out quietly while Makoto bandaged him up with as much gauze as she thought necessary. "You can stay here, Naru." Makoto said, "I live alone…it's okay." She said while standing up and headed to her closet to get a towel, which she could drape over him. Then she unloaded her groceries. He constantly repeated his name while staring up blankly at the sky, and then would briskly start reciting something quietly; next he would clasp his hands on the table edge as if aroused emotionally. This went on for hours, him just sitting there…a little stunned perhaps? She wasn't sure but all she knew was she felt deep sympathy for this man, so young…and had already lost his mind…

After tending to the food, preparing them for dinner, she took him by the hand and spoke to him kindly while leading him towards the washroom and from there she sat him on a chair she had moved there. He sat with his back to the basin and from there she lowered his head down towards the warm water-filled basin. "Let's wash your hair." Makoto suggested, "Get you all cleaned up." She smiled down at him, yet he could only look up at her with wide eyes, with icy azures. His hair…despite its dirtiness, felt like silk while she draped water over his bangs, dampening the hair, where with a handsome amount of shampoo, she worked into a lather. His eyes fell in and out of focus from the woman washing his hair to the lights hanging over her head that resembled stars and finally mouthed out, "The stars know everything…" Makoto, used to his constant rambling, failed to notice and only conditioned his hair afterwards, dismissing it unconsciously. 

While draining the basin with the man standing beside her with a towel draped over his head, she lowered him down gently and washed his face with a hot cloth, cleaned his hands. She started for his feet but discovered strange looking boots and thus to save herself the trouble, excused his feet for now. After shearing his shirt and with her suspicion aroused, she decided to lend him a set of clothes – if she were able to find some. He sat still, obedient, as she dried him up and then took him into the living room where she sat him on the sofa and then studied him again. He looked sophisticated; she would never have imagined someone like him would fall into such a lowly fate. His clear complexion, olive coloured skin, long wavy auburn tress that extended a bit past his firm and broad shoulders betrayed that seemingly oblivious place that is his mind. Despite his mindlessness, his expression is altogether angelic, at least to her. 

His most attractive attributes were the solace that she found in his eyes, despite the constant lost of focus that didn't allow her to follow, they were the clearest of all blues…the lightest and the most delightful, to the extent of a brewing temptation luring her to drown in them. He often stared off with a forlorn expression, aimlessly capturing the world around with naivety while habitually rubbing his forehead. She would never know what lived in his mind…only the stars knew…for at one point this man knew too much and from his knowledge…came betrayal. A distant memory is the cause of his lost salvation…

                                He had never learned humanity, though he wanted knowledge, he never realized true wisdom came with mortal emotions and time. The sears of mockery still felt fresh and continue to scar him. The martyrdom of his past came afoot the future he so preyed upon to possess. Deep within the mesmerizing charm, behind the affirmed confidence…simply sat a young boy wanting to impress, to be intelligent, to know _everything_. He sought far and wide, all that he knew, books, tales, and heroes…and there came a distant promise, a promise to let him know all…through two, through blood and through the stars. He had thought kindly of this woman who had enlightened him somewhat, and with this fair trade came the knowledge of everything that he longed for and as it sat in his hand, he was overwhelmed. The dignified sign, resting on his wrist…the flow into his blood, he **is** knowledge. He never imagined there was one thing he did not know…that though he understood philosophies, anything a mind can conceive of, he did not understand _love_. At first he utilized it as a tool, he played with hearts, he used her, Naru. Despite all this she still loved him, why? Through all of his wrongs, she still loved him, why? Unable to solve this puzzle…wanting to know…this emotion that could blind, could deceive, could control, this love, it drove him to insanity.

It was a night that had left an everlasting impression upon him. For the first time he felt his spirits being lifted, he felt joy…again. He had neglected his inner child, his dreams…and as this girl, young girl below his years by seven, introduced him to the likings of man, something sweet called _Sundaes_; he quietly awakened that inner child. Had he tasted something like this he would've repented earlier. There, seated in front of her he feared…himself, and her fate. Discovering this knowledge of love came the awesome price, which he tried to deny, but understood its inevitability. Seated among the starlit sky, indigo strewn with pearls in the heavens, he dared ask her… "Why do you love me?" She could not answer but only blushed feverishly, she could not express but could only describe what she felt, and with her description…in midst of it, came the perfect disruption of his archrival, his nemesis bearing the mask of a companion and brother in the same purpose. 

To save her life he stood in front of the oncoming twisted branches, sleek and silent with its fatal poisons. The puncture had not killed him…the poison did. And then he understood… "N-Naru…" He perched a meek smile, fading, yet there. "I understand…" He winced as she cried for him, shedding tears, she would not accept his destiny and fate. Her flesh was set on fire while she fought destiny with her futile mortal hands. For that clandestine moment he realized he is in love and yielding its beautiful fruit. His eyes diverted from the tension of her gaze to her hands and logic with its clear state of mind returned, a state of mind that cannot allow love. "NO!" He barked at her to stop, "Stop it, Naru!" He protested. "Nephrite…I can't let you die…I can't!" She cried, her tears his elixir of life. He closed his eyes, the inevitable, gall seeping into his mouth. 

With much wisdom he opened his eyes with a childish thought he knew was not wise. "Don't forget me…" He reached out with his large hand and pressed it up against her warm face…the sweetest he had ever seen, and with his rigid fingertips, he caught her tears. Her hands came around his, the scorched flesh that he wished he could mend. The pain faded in contrast to the horrific thought of never seeing her again and the guilt, which he is unable to forgive himself for… His sins came tumbling down, the iron curtain to his uncertain and abrupt demise. He could not forgive himself...for contaminating her life with the likes of him, for using her fragile heart as the slate for his love story...for leaving without a proper goodbye. Then with a whimpering sigh, he closed his eyes and savoured the immortal picture of her face. He felt forgiveness and redemption...she redeemed him with her love and he vowed with the wilting of his soul that he would repay his debts to her...to the world. "Don't go…DON'T GO!" The resounding anguish permeated from the fragrance of his forbidden past...

                "Naru…Naru!" Makoto shook him gently and forced him to look at her as he snapped out of his reverie. She handed him a warm bowl of soup. He looked at her while she ate and watched television, his eyes strayed from hers…towards the television screen where an astronomy show went on, and there among the scope of the stars…he sat the bowl down and said boldly, "The stars know everything…" Makoto looked towards him, hearing from him the first time, an eligible sentence. She turned to his vision towards the window, "The triads are aligned." He said solemnly, "The moon half orbit." He remarked, "There's danger aloof…"

"...What?"


	6. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter Five: C...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I – Stigmatized 

Chapter Five: Challenges

By: Juki

                                                Spiked fan scattered across the air, chained…her fast hand snapped at the chain, locking it as she lowered her stance to stabilize her balance and began to tug. The demonic woman, ivory in colour, screeched while flaying forward from the immense strength of the solitude Sailor. Hiding behind her, a man trembling cowardly, shielded himself by kneeling on the ground soon became a burden. "Sparkling…wide…pressure!" A jolt of electricity shot through the chain and in a flash; sent the woman tumbling backwards, electrocuted. The metal chain sizzled and smoked while she released the brittle wire and turned. "It's okay…" She assured him, kneeling down, obviously underestimating her opponent. 

A talon swept across silently, his eyes widened and as of reflex he pushed her out of the way as the jagged claw fastened around his previously wounded shoulder and with a sudden retrieve, drew the man off of his knees and forward. Reliving his past, stunned, he fell limply onto the ground when the talon broke free from its precious hold and withdrew. The ivory woman stood up with half of her body partially scorched, angered, she lunged forward. "Jupiter Oak Evolution!" A vivid spray of razor edged foliage shot from her trained hands and in a matter of moments vulgarly annihilated the ivory creature. Smoke emitted heavily from the ivory statue cloaked in foul grey with a bright stone etched deep into its talon. As the brittle diamond released its crystalline ping, it burst forth from its invalid domain and along with it the life of the demon. 

The remainder of the ivory creature settled onto the ground, no traces of its presence but only a short mountain of sparkling sand and a wound. "Naru!" Super Sailor Jupiter knelt by him as he stared off into the heavens; drowned in its infinity and said, "Promise to never forget me…" His vision blurred by the forbidden tears, and for a moment there she is, round verdant eyes piercing his soul, a russet sea of waves…haunting him. She lifted him, with the raw strength dedicated to her solely, hauled him over her back and with unimaginable speed sprinted off from the scene, "Hold on, Naru…" She said through gritted teeth, "We'll make it," She encouraged him, heading the opposite way of her home…the resounding reflex of a name – _Ami_.

                                The sound of pebbles accurately slung onto the window, the ticking, stirred her from her night studying. Opening the window she discovered Super Sailor Jupiter, which alerted her. She whispered a "wait" and quickly exited through the front door, unnoticed. A coat of red painted upon her back, Ami went to examine it when the tall warrior shook her head, "The blood isn't mine…it's his…" She led the young girl towards a shrub where a man laid unconscious. In a matter of moments, Makoto emerged from the mask of a warrior and with the tenderness of a delicate of creature, followed the woman into her home. Through the emeralds and white lace…through it all, she is no more than a woman. With the proper bandaging, clothes of tainted scarlet soon filled the tiled ground until a moderate amount of gauze coiled around his shoulder locked it in place. 

"What happened?" Ami asked as she puts away the medical utensils while the other cleaned up after her. "He…he led me to the youma." Makoto whispered quietly, "He saw it through the stars." Ami bit her lip as she glanced over at the man. "Do you know who he is?" Ami asked Makoto. "Naru…that's what he kept calling himself." She replied, trying to hide the bloodied clothes behind the amounts of rejected paperwork in the disposal bin. Ami shook her head, "Did he reveal anything about himself?" Makoto paused at the expression, "I don't think he's capable of doing that, Ami…I found him on the streets…battered and wounded. I-…I took him in…" Makoto diverted her eyes as if ashamed at her decision, "He didn't have any place to go."

Her eyes locked onto the man, indecisive…but she held her tongue. "It's a wise decision, Makoto." Ami said, "If you can, try and take him back to your house now…before he is discovered." Ami wrapped the bag lining the disposal bin up and helped them through the small hallway that led to the back door. There, she opened it exiting first to discard the plastic bag and then held the door opened for the others to exit. "Clean his wounds once a day…he should…heal fast." Ami called after them and watched as the two disappeared into the shadowy nights intricately woven with secrets. She couldn't understand why she couldn't tell Makoto the truth…that this man is no Naru but Nephrite…from the forgotten past of the Generals. Why didn't she have the heart to uncover the truth even if it had been tugged so safely away by time? Perhaps it was the touching story behind his demise that only a handful of people knew. Her being one of them. "Naru…" Ami repeated into the night, "Has long moved on, Nephrite…"

                                Mystified breaths carrying the essence of life slowly seeped through the gaps of his teeth while he cradled himself. With his head pressed up against the softly fragranced shoulder, he studied her heartbeat, rhythmically mesmerizing him. The penetrating memory of her verdant eyes…the sweet reminiscent image, through the turmoil of physical pain, still strained to bleed into his mind. "Naru…" He whispered inwardly, almost mindlessly. Her uncomfortable shoes, embedded painful blisters onto the side of her feet. She underdressed him for the rigid weather as night slowly faded to welcome the approaching rebirth of time. The sky teemed with periwinkle as the sun climbed over the bridge of dawn to draw the curtains to unleash the day. Her movements were limited from the tanned skirt that reached her shins so as to impede upon her speed in carrying him home. Still a ways from home, she stopped and gently rested him down onto the ground while she rolled off her green chemise. She draped the fuzzy green sweater over him and resumed in carrying him home, bearing the numbing gropes of coldness while battling the sluggish weight upon her shoulders.

                Out of breath she fell onto the ground but with him safely sprawled on the sofa…knew she could release herself. Laying on the warm rug, her chest heaving, rising up and down, she had never exerted herself this excessively before, not like this. Glancing over at him, her fatigue catching up to her, it slowed her thoughts even if the blood coursing through her veins sprinted for miles. She could only cast her eyes daringly at the magnificence of his alluring tranquility… She silently marvelled at his glory with the first stroke of the sun's fingertips accentuating the unforgettable depths of his face. He fumbled in his oblivious sleep…and if it had killed her tonight to save him, she would've died gladly. She always had a soft spot for the handsome type… and she is not vain…but hopeful. With dreamy eyes, she silenced everything, even her own thundering heartbeat, and fell fast asleep on the ground adjacent to him.

                                Boisterous sounds of chattering, despite the loudness, she continued to be engrossed by the sonnet of the Mistress. With one of her ear cupped so she could hear her own thoughts, she did not hear the announcement over the speakers until some boy poked her until she looked up. He shouted over all of the noise, "They want you in the office, Ami!" She looked up from the bleachers, finding herself in the gymnasium surrounded by cheering for their home volleyball game. She packed her books quickly, then ushered out of the busy place to the empty halls where she then found herself in the office. There, the phone sat perched up and waiting, picking it up she listened closely. "Ami, please come to the hospital as soon as you can…that volunteer's position you acquired might be replaced if you do not attend today." Her mother's sophisticated, almost monotone voice…came across. Often she wondered if this woman is her mother…surely she respected her so, admired her integrity as a doctor, adored her stamina in the extended race of patience…everything she wanted to be, everything she admired was borne onto her mother. 

Surely this woman is someone she looked up to. Yet it seemed she could never impress her, her studies, the woman didn't seem to be as touched as she would have liked but only gave the occasional encouragement that meant nothing, how often had she heard, "good job, Ami"? Too many times. The increased bandwidth for her financial accounts meant nothing. She didn't want money, all she wanted was attention and love. "I will come as soon as I can." Ami replied, shattering the awkward silence, which had settled comfortably around them, "Where should I meet you?" It was a disappointing question, she rarely saw her mother…the single parent that raised her. Her father is in some deep expedition some place, some place lost in his own world. She never understood them, they didn't love each other, they just…remotely stayed together for her. Perhaps they still haven't realized that she is no longer that naïve little girl who believed that their parents fought only because it was normal. It wasn't. Nonetheless her mother's tone shattered that thought, "I won't be meeting you, but I've already paved out all your documents, all you need to do is be punctual and fulfil your duties for the acquired certain of time." With that the phone clicked, no goodbye, no warmed sent love. Nothing. Hanging up the phone, never had she felt so cold, she drew her book bag and exited the school, 4:00PM. 

                Rushed with the familiar scent of astringent, too many times had she slept on these benches waiting to see her mother. The receptionist knew her by name, doctors knew her by name, nurses knew her by name and even some patients, what does it matter? They weren't her mother. No one could replace it. No one. Hanging her jacket, unable to change due to the lack of time though she found no shame in wearing a school uniform, she left her book bag with her jacket and entered the reference room. Bombarded with talking and instructions, obviously late, she caught up soon enough and was quickly sent to her designated wing, which brought comfort. She sat with the children, doing what she loved and did best…reading. A man is wheeled in…his eyes bandaged as he is set by the far corner of the room while the children roared in laughter as she read with emotion. "I will not eat it with a fox, I will not eat it in a box!" Ami flipped the page as the children soon ran around her, losing interest in the book until only a few stayed until the story was finished and then joined the others in chasing a balloon. 

One thing she knew…she couldn't grow too attached with them…it was typical, maybe today she'll see them running and laughing, the next…fighting to breathe in a stuffy room…ready to meet death at their doors. That's how it goes…cancer is a horrible disease. Her attention diverted to the man in the wheelchair by himself until a young boy went up and started asking him questions. "What happened to your eyes?" He asked, curious, trying to peer through the bandages. "Do you like cats?" The man veered his head from the boy's direction, "I'm blind." He stated flatly, "I hate cats." He replied coldly, the boy…liking the reaction of this man, still having some spark left in him, poked him. "Why are you here?" The man sighed, despaired, "Because…I am incompetent." The boy blinked, "What's that mean?" The man shook his head, perched his forehead in his hand, "It means I'm useless…okay!?"

                                She led the boy away, who pouted, but left and joined the others once again. "My name is Mizuno Ami." She introduced herself, he seemed apathetic to her placid starter and turned his head away from her. So used to being overlooked, she sat herself down across from him without taking into offence and simply studied him. Adorning a hospital uniform, the unattractive white upon white, the only eccentricity left in him is his Midas hair, most probably beautiful once, now cropped and dwindled limply by his ears. And his bangs trimmed carelessly away hung over his forehead like a curtain of tiny curls. He looked remotely comical, she had to admit…and gave a quiet giggle, which caught his attention. "What are you laughing at?" He asked her. "Your bangs…" She leaned forward with her hand and tried to flatten it out, but her attempt became futilely as the curls sprung back up like grass. He attempted to move his head away but could not escape, as she shoved his bangs over his head. He seemed dissatisfied and moved his hand up and pushed it back down. "Leave it." He warned.

                "Ami, Ami!" A small girl tugged at her sleeve, "Remember, you promised me you'd read one of your adult books to me." The young girl…deprived of any hair but with sweet hazel eyes and the most alluring of all smiles, had softened her heart and sighed while picking her up. "Alright…" Sitting the girl onto her lap, she fished through some of the books available on the side. "Here's something interesting." She said, "Silver Rhapsody." The girl clapped her hands while Ami turned to the first page, reading slowly as the girl listened, leaning back with her eyes lazily squinted, she loomed over a new word…she had not encountered before. "Sidas." She pronounced, in the way of _Si – Das_. 

The man corrected her, "It's pronounced Sidas." _Ce –Da_. "It's Latin." Ami shot him a look, none that he could detect as she continued on and read, encountering yet another word, she tensed. Clearing her throat, she tried –" Idehtne ."  She pronounced _E – det – neh_. The man shook his head, "_E-de**h**t-n._" The girl looked to the man and then back at Ami, "Which way is it?" The girl asked. Ami sighed, "Idehtne." She changed her pronunciation and with a glance over, seeing the smug expression on the man's face…finished reading the chapter before the nurses called all the children for dinner, and let the girl go. She clapped the book closed as the man remarked cockily, "You should learn to read before reading to the children." With that, he is wheeled out of the entertainment room. The remark seared a path through her mild facade…as a challenge to her could never be overlooked.


	7. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter Six: Bo...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I – Stigmatized 

Chapter Six: Borrowed Vision

By: Juki

                                                On the account, upon returning the following same day, the same girl, same book. There he sat off on the side, listening. As expected, she stumbled onto another Latin word, not uprooted but rooted. Glancing at the man with a knowing smile on his face, despite his disabilities, he looked negatively optimistic. "Fainse." _Fain – eh – se._ He shook his head, perched his chin on his palm slowly, partially veiling his lips that had curled into a twisted smile, as if attempting to conceal it and stopping her on the process altogether. "Then what is it?" Ami asked impatiently, unlike her usual self. He turned his head towards her voice as if for the first time, paid attention. "Oh? I thought you were reading to the child to impress, why would it concern me that you pronounce words incorrectly?" She bit her lip, where did she go wrong _this_ time? Had she not embed the right accents? The memory of the Latin pronunciation literary studies was still fresh on her mind from the previous night of pious studying, what could it be? Or maybe it was because she had exhaled at the wrong time thus making the word sound abnormal? She didn't know, and who had given this man the authority to question her own abilities? How can she be certain that he knew Latin?

                He read her mind clean, "You broke the word up incorrectly. If the word had not been a verb, it might have been pronounced as such." He cocked his head to the side, leaning in with his ear, "Verbs are often broken from the first vowel down. So it would be _Fa – in – se._" She twitched her lip at this odd mannered man. "How could it be a verb?" Her eyes scanned over the words cushioning the italic Latin from both sides, "Then wouldn't that mean there're three consecutive verbs? That doesn't make sense." He bit his lip, "Reread the sentence to me." Ami sighed reluctantly; she feared that he would prove her wrong…she hated to be wrong. "The divinity of the Mistress is evidently portrayed _Fainse_ displaying what is just." He contemplated, "Do you know what Fainse means, Ami?" She turned to the back, trying to find it in the index before he interrupted, "It means wisdom." He told her, Ami broke down with a nostalgic smile, and she had pointed an error. "You said it was a verb…wisdom is a pronoun." 

He smiled, "Is it?" He asked her in return. Without thinking, for it is obvious that it is, she answered with utmost certainty – "Yes!" He shook his head, "You've forgotten…Latin is defined differently. There is an extended conspiracy on that word you had just swiftly brushed past. Wisdom is considered a verb, for it is to be applied with wisdom and which often is applying to intellect to cautious to _carefully_. So tell me, does 'portrayed carefully displaying what is just' make sense in a readable manner?" She turned her eyes back onto the book, growing silent. Perhaps she should've worked harder…and referred to more references. She moved on and continued reading, she could stand criticism, but not the tone that he dished it out in. He interrupted her quickly. "Latin is a language of history, age and conspiracy, most 'pronouns' you read from this state on would most commonly be broken in the method you had previously utilized." He leaned back comfortably on his wheelchair and crossed his leg over the other, immediately signalling that he is capable of walking as of state. "It so happens that the author only embedded controversial Latin in her writing, which can be an interesting aspect if viewed in a novel. However, if it were to be considered as an actual piece of non-fiction or literature of Latin, it would be a laughing joke. Luckily she realized this and had placed it under fiction." Ami paused, glanced down at the novel to the author…indeed it is a woman. She took in his opinion respectively but refused to take it any further.

                                The ushering of the nurse, it brought relief but also sparked the fuel to her excitement. She wanted it to end, the reading of that wretched book but…her curiosity, as of his intellect based on what she passionately embraced – books, made her want to venture more with him. He seemed distant, afraid to be turned down. At least this way she could have someone to 'discuss' with, she'd rather keep it like this than be completely turned down from his just ideals and knowledge. Her shifts, this time, has not been completed as she tucked the book in her bag after asking…when she will go home and prepare herself for next time. She'd be a fool to let him correct her in such an embarrassing way again. Standing up, she followed the rest to the dinning hall, also known as the patient's cafeteria. There he sat by himself, taking everything in liquid form, while the others went off with heavy-duty food. She sat across from him on the folded table. He didn't take heed but quickly with the vented breeze, carrying the scent of vanilla to him, he smirked. "Back for more help, Ami?"

                Carrying mixed feelings, this man stirred her up with his unbearable arrogance, so she remained quiet. In a way, she wanted him to acknowledge her presence, but she seconded that with fear of confrontation. He had one hand on the soup bowl while the other held the spoon. His movements were swift as he remarked, "old skills, just when you think you don't need them, they get useful again." She watched him eat while she reached into her bag silently and took out the book. She is curious, but she didn't feel comfortable asking him. Once again, as if reading her mind he said, "If you have anything to ask, ask. Don't be a coward." She swallowed, she could not find enough boldness to ignore her pride, but she asked nonetheless, "How do you know so much about…about Latin?" He paused with the spoon halfway lifted to his mouth that sat comically ajar, closing his trap; he dropped the spoon back in the bowl with a splatter and for a moment, looked disrupted from his composed cockiness. "Because…I just do."

That nonchalant reply meant personal affairs, deciding that she is in no position to probe she decided to move on. "What's your name?" She asked him when he began to eat again. He took in a spoonful of the soup and after swallowing it said, "Call me what you think, what is it now? Arrogant cocky bastard?" He chuckled deeply, his voice soft, she would never imagine him to be one to use such rough language. In a way, it was refreshing but altogether, like all the other things he said, stirred things up within. She mused, "If I switch arrogant and cocky around, then I guess I could use an abbreviation of Cab, couldn't I?" It was meant to be a jest, he shrugged, "It'll work." Had she offended him? It was meant to be a joke but he seemed to have considered it. But her mind, something she hadn't thought she was capable of, thought maliciously, 'Fine then, let him be called what he is.' A tray is set next to her by a nurse who is an old friend who simply smiled and walked away. Ami breathed out a quiet thank you and began to eat while staring at the man who, despite his lost of vision, is capable of many things. He could utilise utensils as if he could see, he had by far the most graceful movements she had seen for one to be blind and...compared to her renowned friend for clumsiness – Usagi. In addition, his taste buds are most probably enhanced as well as his hearing, touch and smell, which impressed her. She would never know though, that all of this flexibility…had been for an earlier cost.

                                Perhaps it was all the times he had heard others remark…and describe to him what they see that he developed the yearning to see. It felt empty that when they describe…in colour, all he knew was black. What is red? Blue? Yellow? He had never seen them and would never know. What does a flower look like? He could derive from the soft scent, delicate petals that perhaps it resembled something like a soft light colour, but then again it could be just as bizarre as having it painted black. He would never know, just like the word _pink_, it meant nothing to him. He had never wanted anything so badly; all he wanted was sight and vision, nothing more. No one could grant him that, he had wisdom; he had knowledge, everything that made him capable in life. Had he been stupid but seeing, at least he could know the world. At one point, all he wanted to have were full vision for one day, see everything and paint it in the cavities and crevices of his mind. And if he were to be blind again the next day, at least he could pull the memories out of his mind and remember what red is, and blue. 

When he first encountered this woman…she had great promises, as wise as he thought he was, he was only a lusty man. Stripped away, all he wanted was vision but somehow vision related with many other great things, heroic things. With the gift of sight he was overwhelmed, and eventually grew to see the dullness of the world and could not believe he had given up his soul for such a thing. Though there were many things worth seeing, worth reading, there were too many that were a nuisance. Ironically, what he had wished before, to have vision for one day, for that whole time in that abyss of darkness felt like a day, soon ended and now left him with nothing. A blind man with a memory in his mind, just as he had wished before. His soul was restored, he pondered if it were at all worth trading in the first place. He felt somewhat foolish, this dream, but knew that it is with turmoil that a man is made and with trials they grow wiser. Without vision, at least he wouldn't have to know or see the ugliness of evil again, define light or darkness, colours that sometimes are too vulgar and people's faces and altogether their vanity. What it all comes down to is the _mind_. 

                He had been quiet, she did not understand, she did not have much information regarding to him. He was stilled, perhaps by a muse? She ate silently until he turned his head from the side and stirred at the cold soup, which was warmed when the passing nurse ladled more into his bowl. He wheeled his chair in closer, as close as he could get and when all else failed he stood up, nudged the chair aside, felt for the table and upon feeling it, and having a navigation printed into his head, sat down and began to eat. "May I ask you something?" She asked him. He sighed irritably, "Must I repeat myself? If you have something on your mind, best not to keep it a secret, it comes out eventually anyway." He said. She bit her lip, "What happened to you?" He seemed uncomfortable with her question and she began to regret asking. "It never belonged to me, I just had to return it." It sounded lyrical coming from his lips, she perched her chin on her palm while staring off at him, he intrigued her…so unpredictable and most of all…enigmatic. Regardless of his constant snide remarks, she could learn to respect him as a person…_could_.

                                She stood behind his chair as he found his way back and sat down, before sitting down, Ami matched his height with her prediction, he is…tall, she thought he should be at least four inches shorter…but she supposed her calculations had been impaired by his sitting. She wheeled his chair slowly while walking through the quiet halls, away from the children, away from their noise. "Do you intend to make yourself my tyro?" She blinked at his bluntness, "Why do you ask?" She answered with a question. He twitched his lip, thinned it to a line, "You haven't left my side, I would fully expect you to be taking your leave if you do not want anything from me." Is that what he thought? That she's simply helping him because she wanted something? "You can be kind to a person without expecting something in return." She said. He sneered, "I would like to meet one." 

Ami stopped, she asked herself, _is_ she being kind to him so he could help her? Part of yes, but also she respected him as a man. "I know someone…" She immediately said, "I myself is not like her…but…I know someone who is kind regardless." He didn't seem convinced. "She is in the hospital too." Ami said softly, her tone changing, saddened. "She's in a coma, she fell into it a few nights ago." He didn't say a word; Ami started wheeling the chair again "she's unselfish." He remained quiet throughout the duration of the trip back, and upon entering where she parked the wheelchair next to his night table, he insisted on standing up without her help and climbed onto the bed. "I'll believe you when I meet her." He finally said regarding to the question she had registered, at least he knew her intentions were…relatively positive. "I'll take you to her when she wakes up." Ami whispered, "Can you…" She stopped herself. "Can I what?" He breathed out irritably. She fidgeted uncomfortably, she had never asked for help in her life, "Help me…?" His lips thinned into a satisfied grin, "There's a price for everything…"


	8. Volume I: Stigmatized :: chapter Seven: ...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I – Stigmatized 

Chapter Seven: Facing Fears

By: Juki

                                                Her eyes fell to a soft close as she sat in front of him on the bed. His fingertips gentle…soft…slid across her face as he felt with his hands and from it derived a picture. Sauntering over her gossamer lips, the cute nose, eyebrows, her forehead then to her hair where he felt past her shoulders to find it relatively short. He drew his hands back, "Now read." He said, and she quickly scurried off and found the book where she returned shortly after and began to read. He sat back listening half-heartedly until a Latin word would come up, there she would stumble and attempt to pronounce it, a few times she would get it right, most times wrong. As hours flew by and night fell darkly she tucked the book away, having gone through five chapters with him in about three hours. While packing her books he tucked himself in and then the door peered open and there stood Doctor Mizuno…Ami acknowledged the woman with a temperate smile and watched as her mother spoke professionally to him. Nurses soon entered with a tray full of items and in a matter of moment the bandages wrapped around his eyes were discarded. Ami stood at the back and peered through the four people and almost dropped her books at the sight in front of her. The wise man, through the short hours that she had grown to like, turned out to be someone of the past, _Zoisite_. She searched her heart…she found no hate, no dislike…had he changed? The voices of her mother drowned out her thoughts as she told of the progress. "If we are fortunate enough to perform the laser surgery tomorrow, your vision _might_ be restored. Until then, please get your necessary hours of rest…this is the critical point of your healing if you don't get your ten hours of rest, your eyes might not respond to the accommodated lasers."

                                "It wouldn't matter much if I saw…or not." He responded with a strewn full of deceit and lies, he wanted to see…despite all his pride, and not wanting to show hope for something that seemed so impossible, he lied. The softness of his tone concealing all emotions the doctor only shook her head, "I suppose it's good that you're not placing too much hope on this operation." She tucked her hands into the snug pockets in her white trench. "The chances are against you…but there's still a relatively high percentage that this surgery will restore your vision." The nurses reimbursed him with new bandages and soon left the room, leaving only the doctor, Ami and himself. "If you need anything in the night, the buzzer is at its usual place." Doctor Mizuno stated matter-of-factly and with that exited without giving neither of the occupants with another glance. Ami shuffled uncomfortably…and without a word exited. She caught up with her mother and with a tone of indifference asked, "What is the patient's name?" The woman simply looked on ahead, stopping to sign a few papers on her way, "Why don't you ask him yourself." She stated and then turned down the corner when her name is called over the sound system. Ami stood in between the intersection, an empty wave of neglect flushing over her. She closed her eyes, 'Am I really a coward?' She pondered.

                The subtle scent of vanilla still lingered in his room whilst he lay awake. The haunting tingling on his fingertips of the softness of her cheeks, trying to compose an image of her…what would she look like? Boredom does many things to people, he concluded. His fingers locked around the trim of the blanket, the sound of the air vents above his head…the rush of warmth casting above his head. It was meant to comfort him but it aroused his senses more than relaxed them. The hope of seeing…it brought him a goal that maybe he wouldn't have to rely on someone for the rest of his life but also the threat of seeing that he would end himself off…send himself to demise and being _alone_, it frightened him.

                                She stopped as the door slid open leading to the circular drive through of the hospital for the ambulance and then the large terrain of parking and trees. The door remained open from her weight and soon, she turned and stepped back. _Being_ timid is her greatest flaw? She stood along the lines as people exited and entered disregarding her. The flight of stairs leading to her answer simply sat in front of her, the only step she had to take was to ask the question and confront him. It sounded easier than the motive. There is no motive; she just wanted to prove that she isn't a coward. Her grip on her school bag tightened, bolting the knuckles a feverish splurge of white and red, then in a matter of seconds, found herself running up the flight of stairs. Halting before his door, composing herself…doubt arose again. 'What should I ask?' It had not crossed her mind…this blindness that he caused her, what is this? She had never done anything out of the splurge of the moment, she always thought deeply, then why does she find herself standing in front of his door, winded…confused and unprepared? Her fingers trembled as she twisted the knob, the noble click of her destiny from the door…entered.

                He turned his head towards the soft noise across the door and had noticed a presence standing outside for quite a while. Upon entering, scattering the light from the hallway into the darkened room she flicked the lights on. It really didn't matter; all he saw was black anyway. Closing the door behind, leaning against it she looked at him and knew he had already acknowledged her presence long before she had stepped in. She inhaled deeply, trying to clear the cloud from her mind that had settled far too long to be cast away. He sat up, his head tilted towards her, "What do you want?"

Her cheeks grew flush, this is his problem…he is always too blunt. Too blunt…but he wasn't afraid of asking…of questioning. "Tell me…" She breathed out while turning towards him, finally working up the courage to look at him, to see her past foe. 

                                _CLANG!_ The window facing her crumbled as an iron claw extended from it and with its agile sway, clasped around her neck in the most awe stricken manner. Being dragged slowly to the window, she attempted to grab hold of something before falling flat onto her back from the force. His hand came to her and she grabbed it as a shard of black, a crystal, shattered the chain in a moments gleam and released her from its tyrannous hold. She gasped for air as if she had been drowning, finding her feet he probed around her and to her neck, "Are you dead?" he asked her. "N-no…" She looked towards the window, fear but knew duty calls yet she could NOT leave him…alone, no she couldn't. "Mercury Crystal Power…Make up!" His hand withdrew from her immediately as a tingly coolness swept across, a vapour of ribbon that sauntered. His lip thinned as he withdrew from her, untrusting. The sound of glass cracking bought both of their attentions as Zoisite turned his head up while Super Sailor Mercury stepped in front of him. "Show yourself, you coward!"

                A black silhouette veered into the light, an emerald shaded woman bowed pleasantly. The look in her hollow obsidian eyes, without life, without a soul…the flow of her ravenous verdant tress spiralled unnaturally in the most hardest manner. Within the motive the demonic woman, striking fear, stepped forward and with a brisk movement, shot once again the iron claw towards the previously stunned warrior. She dove out of its direction to have it claw at the door behind and with a yank, shredded it to splinters. "Shabon…blast!" A thick dense fog melded into the milieu as Super Sailor Mercury lurked through it towards the bed where he is not present. There slicing through the thick sheets of dank air the claw once again and this time, possessed a solid hold on her shoulder, tearing the fabric of her fuku along with the external layer of her epidermis. Her soft cry, too loud, the stillness…this stealthy creature. He remained on the ground as the sound of struggling is heard. The sawing of the chain across a whirring hand…he extended his hand. Within the bare palm a flare of brilliant white light and within it formed the purest of a sphere. Indecisive his head tilted to and fro… 'Why should I care?' He asked himself, 'that if I hit her or not?' He couldn't answer and with instinct, sent the churning condensed energy towards the far left wall and in reply heard the shrill cry of the enemy. The chain shattered as the mist is lifted. "Double Shabon Spray…Freezing!" A blast of icicles shot from her outreached arms and in a matter of moment solidified the far left wall along with the demonic creature into a complete icicle. There, a whirl of a black shard sauntered and with a deafening crash, shattered the frozen demon in its state, into broken pieces.

                                A sharp light escaped among the pile of debris and levitated above its figurine before dulling in its colour, this precious stone, and dispersing into the wind as ample white glitter. The iron claw a few feet from her melted into the ground and left no trace but the frozen left wall, broken door and disturbed patient. Her warm hands came around him and soon with gentle whispers led him from the broken glass and into the hall where in a moment's breath…disappeared, this warrior. He could not have believed it if he had not heard it, and probably wouldn't believe his eyes. Nonetheless, he did not feel guilt…nor distaste. He had shown valuable skills and as the nurses busied him and walking him from the damaged scene he looked over his shoulder, an intuition…and there she stood as Ami…and mouthed out quietly, "Are you Zoisite?"

                                Locked breaths, his chest pounded mercilessly against his ribs…screaming for him, clumsy hands fumble, fumble for the temporary cure. The opened blackness dawning as air failed to enter his heaving lips, clawing at the ground as it met him, fumbling for it in his coat pocket…out of reach. A distant voice, "Sir? A-are you okay?" She turned him over from his front, the holy sight of platinum tress scattered across the pavement like a fallen saint upon a sinful world. She searched his pocket where he had attempted to seek, seek. There, an inhaler, turning it around she perched it in his lips and with a good push, cleared the contracted passages of his trachea that extended further, his lungs. His trembling hands locked around hers as he gave another forceful push against the medicated oxygen and greedily inhaled. Then with an exert of a cough the inhaler clattered onto the pavement next to him, his hand resting on his sore chest while he saw everything in double vision. He looked remarkably familiar, shoulder length platinum tress…the coldest of all Prussian, could not quite put her finger on it, with her help, aided him to his feet. "Can you walk?" She asked him and stepped away to have him fall back onto the ground but luckily she had caught him. He probed along the pavement, "I-Inhaler…" He gasped out and when his fingertips graced the side, too excited, knocked it further away. Minako stepped over him and placed the small breathing device into his hand and as he utilized it, she rubbed his back, hoping to calm him. 

                She looked around her, not a soul in sight and she should expect not… Her uniform scattered on the damp walkway, she picked up her items into her backpack along with the loose volleyball in which she packed in as well. Slinging the bag over her shoulders she knelt beside the man, "Where do you live?" She asked him, he pointed to some buildings across the street. She threw his arm over her shoulder and with a heavy grunt, pulled him to his feet where he could not sustain good balance and kept wobbling. Crossing the empty street, him sluggishly relying on her to help him, he continued to use the inhaler and she began to wonder if he was supposed to use it that much. "Which one!?" Minako asked, they all looked alike, these suburban townhouses, all coloured in Victorian beige and lined with oak. He looked about, lost for a moment before pointing to the one to the left, the one that read 702 on the doorway. She led him and when encountered the short flight of stairs to the door, forced to haul most of his weight as he leaned on her from behind and literally tripped _up_ the stairs. She dug through his coat pockets for the keys and when she could not find them, resulted in sticking her hand in his pant pocket with a feverish blush across her face. He didn't seem to mind…or couldn't even remember what his own name is. Hearing the familiar jingle she took it out and then with him leaning up against the doorway, worked around him and opened the door. She supported most of his weight as he entered and then fell onto the rug when she failed to hold him up any longer. Hitting his head with a loud thud, Minako cringed and quickly closed the door and flicked the lights on.

                Rolling him over to find a bruise on his forehead, she looked around. "Don't you have any medicine?" She pulled him off from the main way and he muttered something. Leaning down, her ear up against his lips, that hot breath he spilt, if under any other circumstance, might've been erotic. "Cabinet…Ibuprofen." He said with gritted teeth and rolled onto his side while gripping his chest and slowly beginning to cough dryly. She ran around to where his extended hand pointed at, to the washroom where she opened the mirror cabinet to be flustered by all sorts of medications. She picked at the bottles frantically, reading the labels, "I…what?" She called to him. He cried out with his remainder strength, "Ibuprofen! Green…b-bottle." Minako searched for a green bottle and there sat a little serum tank and then sitting on the marble basin top, a needle. She looked in the green bottle for pills but only found liquid, twisting the top to find it capped. There, only an injection puncture, she ran to him. "What do I do?" She shook him, "N-needle…" he wheezed, cringing then without a moment's notice…blacked out completely.  


	9. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter Eight: ...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I – Stigmatized 

Chapter Eight: Devoted Hearts

By: Juki

                                                Soothing waters, silvery pools, lapping infinitely across the midnight clear. The refreshing coolness against the humid spell of the summery night despite the absence of the sun. Treetops with hands that thrusts up into the heavens, no bounds as if grasping for the stars. Floating along the tantalizing waves of water, marvelling at the stars alone…the only other presence, his brother. "The stars…" He remarked, "Are like tiny white glitter across the sky…with lots of different shades of blue that melted into one another…and the moon…" He breathed in deeply, "Like a big round white cake." He looked over to the one floating near his head, those feet a year beneath his. A pair of legs that led up to a young boy no older than seven…soft golden curls riveting in the spellbound lake, his eyes a hologram of blackness but showed more light than sorrow. He drifted closer and with the softest of all voices asked, "How many stars are there?" He diverted his eyes from him towards the sky, "There…there are too many, I can't count them all." He kicked his feet past the little boy, and slowly fell vertically erect and began to swim up to his brother. "We've better get home." He said, "Ma might worry." His hands came gently up against his brother's side, which squirmed and cackled from the ticklish squeeze and began to swim with the guidance of his older brother. "Maybe if one day I could see…" The young one said, "I'll count all of the stars in the sky and then tell you." He laughed lightly, "Promise?" Almost at shore, within walking level, the young boy paused. "Where's the bracelet?" His small hand clasped around his own wrists, searching for it. "Do you have it?" He asked the older boy and probed along his arms, finding no small chain he gasped. "I think it might've…fallen off." He turned and was about to return when a soft hand stopped him. "Stay here…" The last thing he would let his brother do is venture off in a lake alone…without vision.

                                The tingling caress of the water against his cheek, the rocky bottom with glittery sands and odd coloured fishes. Plunging deeper into the solids, trying to catch a glint of silver in midst of the scattered moonlight that looked like diagonal pillars across. The water above like the heavens without the moon. There…a few metres ahead, the bracelet sitting, the glint he had caught it. Swimming towards the glow, there a cavity within a bed of rocks and within sat the delicate chain of silver…single braided…a gift between the two…from their deceased father. His hand, threatened not to fit but did as he fished through and with a light brush against the chain, nudged it to the side. With his fingers trying to catch a good hold but unable to see it through the cracks, suddenly felt a sharp ting from his foot. There…a jelly fish…and with a frightened release of breath…tried to free his hand from the cavity while fighting to keep his breath. The fear that struck him…with all of his strength he fought to free his hand while the essence of life slipped away.

                Across the shore a loud cry, "Kaito!" The boy standing on shore cried, it had been far too long since he had heard the surface lap of the water… With the wind carrying eastbound…and a whole bed of forest lying ahead of him, what more could he do than shout for his brother? Falling on his knees, despite his disability and how he loathed it, dove into the water, screaming…screaming for his brother while swimming deeper and deeper to his fate. The peaceful waters now a tyrannous enemy, he dove under with a large breath and touched the bottom, no signs. Surfacing he swam another metre and repeated the action in hopes where somewhere on the line, he would hit close to home.

                                His grip loosened from the bound bracelet, which if he had released…would have been able to free his hand. Half of his body paralysed the muffled cry of his name, "_Kaito_." Sounded further away than before. His eyes fell to a close yet he would not release the bracelet in his hand and with a startled spark…the cavity of the rock shattered and from then slowly surfaced…but not soon enough. The last voice he heard, "Goodbye Kaito…" Was from his own mind, the agony of drowning and lungs full of water…the still of his heart and alas surfacing, falling straight into his brother's arms and with the solemn grip, delivered his last heartbeat. He touched frantically the body that drifted towards him, "Kaito…!" He cried frantically, probing his face to his nose, the damp tears mixed with water, no breathing, he cried. How he wished he were not blind, and now from the panic losing all sense of direction…which way to the shore?

                The thought now, the wish…the only thing…the anguish, at its peak. Clawing at the water, never letting go even if it meant his own demise, would he leave his brother adrift forsaken. The resounding splash…he shot his head around…and there a soft whisper in his ear, "If I promise you vision…" She began, "Will you give me your devotion?" He shot around, no one around but the drifting body of his deceased beloved and the carrying breeze. "Anything." He called out, shut his eyes, "Anything…" A painful twinge as if something had punctured his eyes, he winced and covered them…and then upon opening saw the blurriest of all vision…the shore more than a hundred metres off…in the centre of the flowing body of black water… Clearer the more he blinked and with his arm looped around loosely around his brother's head, clawed towards what seemed to be the shore with a woman standing across waiting for their arrival.

Heaving he drew his brother on shore, shook him while the woman loomed over them coldly, her hazy amber gaze…a beacon in the night. In her hand a tall staff, her auburn tress…spiralling down to the ground. "Please…" He crawled to her foot, tugged at the hem of her dress with his wet shaking hands, "Save him…" She cocked her head, "Why?" She asked him in return, "Why should I save him?" He wiped his tears away with his hand but only matted more water across his innocent face. "I love him." He tugged at her hem until she looked down at him. "What will I gain?" He sniffled, "O-our devotion…" Too young he did not know what that meant…he released her dress when she failed to react and crawled back to his brother, cradling his head on his lap while brushing the short platinum tress from his face distorted with pain and fear. He looked to the hard fist and there…only for him did those fingers open like a flower, to reveal the silver bracelet that in trade for its find lost his brother's life. "Kaito…" He breathed out in a snagged cry and with the bracelet, bound it around his wrist. No one deserved it but him.

                                "Then it is done." With the word, the simplest phrase…a hazy dense humid air ignited around them in the milkiest of amber…embedding deep into the boy's open wound by his wrist that had bled a river. His eyes opened strangely, the soft blue purified with the coldest azure and with the parting of his lips inhaled the amber haze…filling his lungs with air and his blood…power beyond his imagination. Her soft porcelain like hand descended upon his heart, "I shall take _this_." Her hand purged through his heart as his cry of agony shot through the forest like no other. No equal. There…a peak of golden light ignited from the open heart and from it…a diamond like crystal with the most fascinating of light and mystery…unveiled itself. She gazed at it with her levitated hand, "Your devotion." She whispered, "Is in my hand." Her fingers, twisted, locked around the beauty and along…crushed it into sand and with the breath out of her mouth, scattered it across oblivion.

                The boy sat up immobile, empty of emotions across his face as his younger brother nudged him, "Kaito…Kaito!" The silver bracelet the only emblem of his past, a distant memory…scattered heart, "Kunzite." The woman called him by name, the new entity, he stood up and without hesitation walked towards her extended hand. The woman turned towards the young boy, "Give me your devotion." The boy clasped his hands over his heart, he had seen what it could do…yet she refused to take his decline. With her extended hand that never reached him, a ghostly shadow cast from her palm with an acute jab, entered his heart through his hands. A second cry of agony…a price for everything, there emitted from his heart a crystal like no other, of bathing silver and from it she twisted in her unworthy hands, destroyed it and drift it in the wind then renamed, "Zoisite."

                                His eyes snapped open as the blurred vision of a woman kneeling over him filled his eyes. Her sharp Prussian eyes a beacon in midst of the dimmed cloudy sight…and there the fragrant scent of peaches and lavender entered his deep inhale and haunted him forever. His hand extended slowly, to grasp the truth? The silver chain glistening on his wrist, he had never abandoned, fingertips traced against her face, the flustered beauty, a Goddess. She stared down into his faultless splendour, the poignant gaze…void and crying for something to fill it. Her hand covered his gingered hands, "You're awake…" She breathed out, her feverish blush the only essence warming through his flesh to his heart. This kindness. This moment, he wanted to last forever but as reality dawned, he slowly diverted them away from the angel. "Thank you for saving me." He shattered what would've been beautiful, he is not capable of it.

                She composed herself and helped him to a sitting position, a glass of water brought to his lips he turned coldly away, _water_. She relieved him of what made him uncomfortable, this stranger, beautiful stranger. "Will you be alright?" She asked him. He turned to her, "Will I?" He asked her in return. She touched his face, she could not help, this attraction that were best known as a forbidden sin. The mortal medicines running through his veins, the only substance keeping him alive that without the woman, he would not live accordingly. She stood up, turned to the bag sitting off in a distance, his hand linked to hers before she drifted too far apart. "Stay." He whispered quietly, loathing solitude, loathing water. She blushed, how had she become so easy? "Why?" He looked past her, contemplating and with all of the sincerity he could muster said, "I need you." That simple phrase was enough, she sat herself down on the ground beneath his feet, how from a turn of fate she had become his slave.

                All things that are beautiful, he tilted her head upwards while he veered downwards as if descending from heaven. Lips locked, the burning fire, he closed his eyes, could not control, could not hold what is beautiful but would as long as he could. She submitted, though her mind cried for her to stop and be rational, she could not, her heart followed him…from the first sight of his azures…she had fallen. Crested with his breath within her, the melodious harmony, her eyes slowly fell from its doubtful gaze to a close, and with wild flames of passion…melted into him. Regret, she knew would be here, but what more could she want than a moment of pure happiness? Even with the devil. What more could she ask for…than have someone truly love her for one second than never have? What more could she ask for than this? Nothing, no more…her heart is content…and has…through the locked lips, given to him to hold. 


	10. Volume I: Stigmatized :: Chapter Nine: D...

Epoch Augmented

Volume I – Stigmatized 

Chapter Nine: Distraction

By: Juki

                                                It felt like a dream, that night, though most of it felt cloudy and uncertain she knew it had to be real. The burning loitering of his God-like lips…the very touch of him made her churn. If it hadn't been real, she would dare not love another but this man of her dreams. The assailant volleyball spiralled from the opponent's attack line, the spike, too mesmerized, it fell flat next to her feet with the loudest of all sharp sounds and shattered her unity altogether as for the second time this had occurred. "Minako!" The team called to her, more worried than angry, they could afford to lose an expedition game but not a precious player. She snapped out of her reverie that felt wonderful to the cruelty of the world and what faced her. The team rolled across her feet as she picked it up and with courteous manners, rolled the ball under the net for the other team. There it goes, that brilliant serve and as it dove close she knew it's take it or leave and with the firmed connection of her wrists, deflected the ball straight up into the air as her team mates recovered and knew Minako is back. There it goes, another spike, her infamous…as fast as she could sprint…dove heard first and with a colliding flip of her body and her extended wrist, saved the ball from the net bounce, second turn…up into the air as the back line shot up and with a powerful jump, spiked the volleyball into a bullet descending down, no chance.

                                The buzzing sound of the end of the game appeared too soon, across the net under it hands met, "Good game…" Murmured in between two teams and with the loud victory cry of Shibakouen High came across the gym, the excitement is gone. "We _have_ to celebrate!" One of the attackers said as the sound of water against tiles came from the shower stall. "Seventeen expedition games won in a row…I think we might have a shot in national!" Another voice, "What about that new club that showcases live bands? I heard the Tama band is playing." The sound of giggling, "Isn't it with that…bassist Kaito? He is so sexy! Let's go!" Their excitement higher than the steam foaming at the top, "Minako, are you in?"

                The sound of water stopping as a young woman stepped out of the stall, "I don't know…it's late…and…" One of the others, "So? Just call home." Minako bit her lip as the other girl quickly covered her mouth. She had forgotten…Minako's parents had divorced only a short month ago, her legal guardian, her father, working in Europe; she has…no one at home to care. "I mean…if you want I can give you a ride back to your house afterwards." The girl recovered, she hope that it didn't offend. "Sure I guess." Minako shrugged, she supposed it'd be better than eating canned food at home, walking past the rest of the stalls she entered the change room.

                                Six girls entered the new club known as Ni Aiwa…a giant place where in the centre a high stage stood up with an empty drum kit, several stands with electric guitars sitting untouched and microphones. Shown to the side for the best seats were reserved they ordered without concern…going all out, after all what is a victory party when one holds back? There, the host of the club stood up, "And now let's give a round of applause to our band tonight…Tama!" Applause thundered across the club as the mid dance floor is cleared from tables soon enough and with the dimming of the lights entered three silhouettes…tall…men. There standing at the front of them, a man holding no instrument, the other sitting behind the drum kit and the last picking one of the guitars and putting it on, adjusting the volume…then came the first strum of the guitar that sounded like a loud whistling blast with the negative vibe of the microphone, squeaked. Minako covered her ears, this "Tama" band…didn't sound so great. The squeak soon recovered as the highest pitch of note is quickly rifted with fast fingers and there the light flashed on as the guitar solo deafened the doubt of Minako and ignited the…passion the previous night. There standing on the stage…the man she had encountered…saved and had fallen for…_Kaito_?

                The screaming of young women, she simply stood mesmerized…he would hardly ever look up from his fingers on his guitar, perhaps once or twice but that would be all and when he did girls wound swoon. After their first entry song people started to step onto the dance floor…and there a woman joined the stage, a beautiful woman with short dyed red hair…picked up the bass, she screamed of charisma and stood next to Kaito and started plucking at the obsidian bass that matched his faded red and white electric. Most of the people on her table left to dance, too stunned to do so she only sat in the seat, glued…and would sometimes take a sip out of her glass of peach lemonade. There, among the many people he looked up, those piercing azures…and immediately fell on her and with a longing gaze that lasted only a second but felt like forever, diverted slowly back to his rifts and continued to play.

                                The night seemed to fly and near the finale the stage emptied of the band members except for him. He seemed timid but the confidence he wreaked of…he was _not_ timid, but perhaps really reserved. He grabbed a stool from the audience, with a charming smile to a woman who was more than happy to lend her seat, he set it in front of the main microphone, picked up the green acoustic guitar by the side, plugged it into the amp and sat down on the high chair. "This song…I wrote last night…" He glanced over at the rounded table by the corner, "For someone without a name." Putting the strap over his head and shoulder, with the pluck in his hand began to play a rift of D chord. Minako pressed her hand over her heart…who is it for again? His charismatic voice…if she had known…

                Her food sat untouched and cold during the solo, after he finished he stepped off the stage as a featured band replaced them, playing something fast and loud. Minako looked for him in the crowd and there only saw his back…she could never forget his backside, and in his arms the bassist. She sat herself back down at the closeness between the two and with the flocking of girls…she nodded her head bitterly, so if that's what it meant. Paying her share of the bill she gathered her things and upon exiting with her teammates, there he stood by the door with his guitar and amp. She composed herself and brushed past him along with the others, her golden tress blended with the others, she made no difference and she supposed she never did. Nameless.

                                The bassist standing next to him, leaning closely as she whispered into his ear, "Did you tell him?" The compelling woman, angular eyes…short crimson tress, slim built, wild. Despite all this, a woman underneath. "He'll meet you in the van." With that she smiled and gave him a sisterly rustle of the hair, "See you later." With that carried her bass and ran outside to an old dented black van where the man, recognized as the drummer, sat waiting for her. Pushing his bangs over his head, standing by himself, the vocalist nowhere to be seen until returning with armloads of girls. "Kaito…" He slurred, evidently drunk. "Meet Megumi, Kat, Saja and Mayi." He grinned as the girls looked to him and soon crowded. He brushed them off coldly and walked out into the night and light shower, "What's his problem?" One of the girls shot out viciously, "Is he gay or something?" He ignored the remark, hauling this acoustic onto his back while carrying his electric and amp in his hands, he walked home, his ride didn't seem to show.

                Along the street, Minako walked alone, her hands tucked inside her pockets, perplexed. Behind him a man with armloads of things, then she stopped when two men fenced her path. Trying to walk past them, they stopped her. "Where're you going, beautiful? You look lonely." He remarked and with his filthy hand, touched her face. She slapped it away without hesitation. "Get lost!" Trying to pry her way through. "Oh she's feisty!" The other laughed and with a hand, pulled on her jacket collar, trying to pull it off of her. She kicked him but failed to do much harm as the other took advantage and tried to pull her into the alley. His fist, fast, accurate, with a single punch knocked the man a foot away while the other assailant released the girl and ran towards the offender. He walked out of the punch and picked up the amp by his foot, carelessly he ducked from a back punch and with his foot, sent it sufficiently between his legs and with the rest of his guitars, walked off. "Follow me." He said as he walked past her. She didn't move. "Why should I?" She asked him, though he had…saved her somewhat, she could not forgive him. He did not stop for her but only called out, "If you get raped, it's not my fault."

She looked to the two, one was…too in pain to move while the other slowly moved up. She shrieked and with her bag, smacked him on the head and walked around him. She did not walk next to him but behind him, trailing close as he carried his things and her hers. After a while, the silence got to her and she could no longer stay quiet. Walking up next to him she studied his expression, bland…void of any particular emotion, he only looked all the more alluring. "Who…was that girl that was with you…" She asked him, unable to voice it out any other way. His head never turned but his eyes glanced over, "The bassist?" Minako nodded, "Is she…your girlfriend?" He looked on ahead and with a straight answer, fast, quick, "No." Minako didn't buy it, "Then why was she hanging all over you?" He stopped, "She's not my girlfriend, that is my final answer." He turned to her, "You don't have to believe me."

                She stopped with her questions, "I never knew you played the guitar." She fidgeted, he didn't reply but kept quiet. "Where are we going?" She asked, not recognizing the neighbourhood. "Home." She realized that…he wasn't very talkative, quieting herself, not wanting to humiliate, simply walked beside him until turning down a street where those Victorian townhouses stood. "Excuse me." A woman's voice behind them. Minako stopped and turned around to find a scarlet demonic woman…she jumped, startled. The scarlet woman approached them and with a quick shift, sprayed a trio of daggers towards Minako who dodged them but had only by a narrow inch. Kaito paused and looked over his shoulder to find a scarlet looking warrior…and Minako on the ground trying to roll out of the way of the daggers. He took off the acoustic and placed it with the pile of instruments on the side while grabbed Minako by the wrist and hauled her up. The woman laughed and with it, lunged towards the two where with an extended hand a vapour of white swept across in thin arrays of lines that knitted into a sheet of silver that turned diagonally, sweeping across the front as her body is fenced. Minako looked to him, the glint in his eyes, the familiarity…she could not forget, _Kunzite_.

                His hand suddenly fell from its hold, the force field fading as he gripped his chest, "R-run…" he managed to say to her before falling off balance and to the ground, knowing his fate. Minako stood up in front of him, this man has changed…she told herself, he's good, he's good. In her pocket, a Midas wand, "Venus Crystal Power…Make up!" A swirl of warm gold and tan swept across as he looked up with impaired vision…but good enough to see…the woman in front of him transform into Sailor Venus. "Venus…love chain…encircle!" A fast coil of a chains napped from her hand and with it bound the woman's daggers from attacking. "Love and Beauty…SHOCK!" With the enchanting kiss of her hand, the sweeping hearts of destruction…bombarded the scarlet warrior. "Crescent beam…smash!" And with the combination attack, shot a wide beam of gold hit square to the warrior's chest, searing a cavity as the scarlet woman screeched her last and fell immobile on the pavement. A brilliant white diamond exited from the cavity and within a moment…

                Kunzite stared at the brilliant light emitted, mesmerized…the warmth…he slowly closed his eyes as the diamond shaped light slowly dimmed and…crumbled into the wind like frosty glitter…disappearing. She knelt by him, the home just a few metres away. No one around…the two had disappeared leaving her in a tight fix. She brought him over her back, and with her free hand she scooped from the two guitars, the acoustic, and ran across the street as Super Sailor Venus and there left him at the outside of the door where she jumped across the street stealthily and with her ungloved hands, falling out of the transformation, as Minako, the amp and electric. Upon returning, the same old drill…she looked to him and with a distant whisper called him back to life, "Kunzite…"

The End of Volume I


	11. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Ten: Tough Lo...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Ten: Tough Love

By: Juki 

                                                Placid sound of peace, not silence, but peace. No place he would rather be but in this large room, his own man, no others. Favourable luxuries and there without her presence, his world. Manoeuvring the chopsticks in his hand, he learned, he ate quietly while watching the scenery outside the porch, the setting sun that blazing red and the oncoming darkness…that felt too surreal to be familiar. A thought came across his mind, that she had not come and eat…regardless that she had not attempted to hide her dislike and at times, distrust, had not eaten…yet at all. His curiosity, like a cat, got the best of him as he brushed the last bit of rice into his mouth and with the carelessness of his sleeve, wiped his mouth and stood up. Through the weeks, it had been two, he had not done much but hide and try to recover, _try_. There are some things that even he did not have control over, like the way his body heals in this untainted time.

                                Sliding the door and with the steadiness of old skills, entered the hall without a sound, empty. The hickory scent of wood burning, the warmth emitting from the large room across, drew his attention. The door slid ajar and with kind eyes, peered into the vastness of the ancient sanctuary and with bewildered interest, watched. Once again, she could not stand, knelt in front of the open flames that clawed mercilessly in anger. She asked not of the future, not of the past, not of the enemy…but of the heart. Her hands pressed closely to her forehead, bowed in pious meditation, whispered her haunting question into the air. "What will the future hold…if he is to be in my life?"

                The fire lashed out, too suddenly and caught a small strand of her hair, singing it upon impact and with the mighty roar, revealed the answer. Her mind fell to a blank state, so empty of thoughts only the colour black remained. There the humidity of the tension, the wavering of the hot air, the blistering flames…how thirsty. _Quench it_. Nothing in her vision but darkness and as she ventured deeper into this answer, the more lost she seemed to feel. Perhaps the fire held no answer? It is not destined? And there it is, the light flicker of an amber, subtle…weak. Upon a wicker and black wax, sat on the floor, she recognized. The sanctuary. The soft light only lit up about three inches in diameter on the ground and from it she spotted the familiar red pleated dress that soon led up to the question, "What holds in the future?" No flames that docked the ample wood that sat damp and unlit. What could it mean? No visions as the silent weeping emitted, "Show me the future!" She cried, this woman that as if she herself is looking in the mirror. Older…wiser…deprived.

                The small flame on the candle wick flickered once again, threatening to go out, this small spark until a filmy sphere of light captured this flame in its grasp and with all its might…kept the flame intact and with gentle hands, lifted it from the hold of the wicker and simply held the fire in its palms, this filmy sphere. She stared at wonderment to this twisted sight of comfort that also brought threat, that would she not, with him in his life, see? The fire slowly levitated and with a sway passed her whereas she followed and turned around. There, standing in civilian clothing, a faceless man with extended hands, his hands…as if holding his own heart, lenient to the sphere's landing, held it in his hands. Fastening his fingers snugly around the small flame he whispered, "What is the price for love? Vision. What is vision without heart? Nothing. What is the future without the past? History." With the closing phrase the gentle fingers grew cold, and with the twisted nails of evidently a changed gender of a woman, attempted to crush the small flame. Despite the attempt the white sphere kept it alive, "Damned heartlessness." She hissed, "Those without hearts…could only live with a given love, that even I myself can not deliver and crush. Yet, with this palisade of the past, I am Queen. I am victorious, I **am** Time." Her nail of the index finger punctured the sphere but is immediately removed as the sphere recovered, the flame growing stronger. "Nourish my child, nourish his pitiful life, though he can not love a woman, he can be a man whom a woman love, and if so be it, he shall give his life to save her heart, this fire of vision, this blockage to my success." She released this tiny sphere where Rei extended her hands to touch it, this warmth that made her smile. Watched as it drifted into the wind, into the darkness, lighting wherever it would go…and then vanished. "_What is to be broken, but a heart_?"

                                Her eyes slowly came to an open as the reality is brought back to her, the fading insight. Her head rose up, "I will lose my vision?" She sounded calmer than she would ever let herself be known. For love? For heart? This vision had not settled in and as she stared at the persistent flicker of the flame, grew impatient and diverted her gaze. "With him, I will lose my vision? Those who have no heart can not live without love?" She shook her head, it sounded absurd, and this sentence that just spilled out of her mouth all too suddenly. It made no sense to her, for those who have no hearts cannot love! She sat back, breaking out of the studious pose and with a fading sigh drew into her sleeves and from it pulled out a charm. Tossing it into the fire, the folded triangular paper and upon it the name Tsukino Usagi. She laughed bitterly and laid down onto the hardwood floor, staring at the hardwood ceiling of dark birch. "Without a heart…how could you live?"

                His solemn gaze never shattered, the looming question, 'Who is _he_?' His hand came over his chest, the sudden jolt he froze. The shuffling caught her attention, "Who's there?" She sat up quickly and whipped around. He withdrew from the parted screen and with a soft exhale of his wintry breath, vanished into a filmy whiteness that left no trace but the subtle, very subtle scent of musk. She scanned the hall, "Yuuichirou?" She called across the empty corridor, hearing no footsteps or any of that, she turned back to the fire. There, in her surprise, had wilted. All that is left of the once blazing flame are a few strands of smokes that snaked up awkwardly with the pungent scent. Nothing more. As if breaking out of that trance had brought back human standards she began to feel the tugs of hunger…and exited the sanctuary just across to the door where upon entering, found a man keeled over, gripping his side.

Despite his pain he tried to conceal, the way he sat betrayed him. She touched his shoulder, "What's wrong?" She asked him but found no reply, therefore knelt and tried to peer under his arms. "Nothing." He barked out and waved his arm at her, pushing her back while he turned his back on her. Rei blinked, "Fine!" She said, taking the tray she left the room, leaving him. She did not have to put up with his attitude, even if he had saved her life…once.

                                Flustered she dropped the tray down onto the tabletop less than gentle, the loud clatter of the china and wood. Sitting down she fumed while eating the cold food, picking up a bit of chicken while she gnawed at the meat and huffed. Her kindness did not seem to effect him the least bit and from the days that she had seen him he just seemed to grow colder and colder. Winter is approaching, without the warmth of a certain someone, it felt all the worse. Nothing tasted good cold, she let down the bowl and chopsticks, pushed the tray away and simply with her hand, picked at the food one by one and ate it. The pained expression, she had gotten a glimpse before he pushed her away, perhaps he wanted to be bold and… "It's not my problem!" She assured herself, shutting out the voice clawing in her mind, beckoning for her to go…go see if he's alright. Threading her fingers gingerly into her hair, brushing it back she sat there with her head perched in her hands…and then with an abrupt jump shot up and ran down the corridor.

                He examined the wound, why wasn't it healing? The bandage soaked through with blood, had it opened up while he moved? He hissed and rolled the flimsy shirt over his head and cast it to the side, sitting up he felt around for the bobby pin that held the gauze into place to find it at the back where he could barely touch it with his fingertips. The door slid open, he took no heed but tried to work at the metal pin until she expertly unhooked it. "Unwrap it yourself." She commanded sternly, "I'll go get some water to clean your cut." He started unravelling the dirty gauze while she disappeared into the bathhouse and…after several minutes returned with a wooden basin filled halfway with steaming water. She sat down the basin by his leg, his firm back exposed…with the contracting of his abdominal…from the jolting pain.

She moved his arm out of the way firmly and looked at the wound that spread twelve centimetres horizontally just below his chest, about two inches. Part of it had reopened while the other only a scab. She looked at him, he held that expression again…a heartless one. It seemed to only appear when she is around, did she repulse him that much? Without a single flinch, he sat still as she tended to him. He'll be damned if he lets another woman toy with his heart or get near it. Her hot hands, the hot water, she stopped midway. "I think we should go to the bathhouse…it's been two days…and I don't have enough water here with me." 

                                He grunted and stood up abruptly, regretted it soon enough when more of his wound opened. "You're so careless!" Rei stated in a less than friendly tone. "I care for your wound and you end up making it worse by moving around." He limped, he'd rather limped than let her help him, she didn't want to persist but walked behind him. "Be that way…" She muttered and trailed his tail, "Turn left." She instructed and he stopped and turned left to meet a set of screen doors he had not seen before. "This is my personal bathhouse…" She muttered, "So Yuuichirou won't find you and start assuming…"

                He entered without her as she stood ignored outside the door. 'What's _with_ him today?' She pondered and walked in behind, closing the door. He undressed without much thought, Rei covered her eyes and turned away as he chuckled. "Juvenile." He remarked and stepped into the drawn waters that lacked heat…but ignored the coldness that immediately sent him a shiver. She peeked through her hand, found him in the water, walked to the open furnace and threw in a few logs and lit the fire. The water started heating up, only slowly as Rei knelt in front of the sultry furnace and fanned at the fire with a wicker fan and once or twice would poke at the logs around and maybe add a few. Her face soon filled with grey spots of smoke, she wiped her forehead with her sleeve while keeping the fire up. "Hot enough?" She asked him. "No." He would reply.

She added another log and coughed when the acidy smoke rushed out from the small funnel and into her face, burning her eyes. She fanned it away and began to work at the logs again, making sure they get exposed to the fire that had blazed remarkably fast from the moment he had sat in cold water to the steaming water that heated him up now. He studied her from the water, his wound temporarily out of mind…she is an enigma…he yearned to solve the mystery but did not want to get burned…what a task… 


	12. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Eleven: Virgi...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Eleven: Virgin Star 

By: Juki

                                                Tubes of empty ice cream cartons sat around the table as the sound of keys and jingling emitted from the door. Upon entering she encountered countless empty cartons strewn across the floor that led a trail up towards the sofa where a man sat with a large spoon and a bucket of ice cream sitting on his lap. His obsession is undeniably expensive as she nudged the cartons from the doorway and entered. "Naru…" She sighed when the same old reaction retorted…no reaction. He sat staring at the space station channel that showed nothing but pictures of stars and people talking about stars. He is like a little boy…a precious child that at times could be a pain but at times angelic…somehow this one chooses to be a pain most of the time.

                                She picked up the empty cartons that some dripped of melted sticky ice cream, she gasped and threw them all on the table before getting on her hands and knees…scrubbing the chocolate out of the light carpet. There are only two movements this man makes, scooping ice cream with the spoon…and then opening his mouth and putting the spoon in. All Makoto could see from the ground is his elbow that continuously shot up and down from the bucket that sat on his lap. "If I ever have kids…" She remarked, "I'm going to spoil them…" She relaxed when the stain is scrubbed off and began collecting the garbage that built up. Putting them into a large garbage bag she checked up on him, in his pyjamas and staring at the television. He looked up at her and with a kind smile that melted her heart faster than the heat to the ice cream, said, "When Virgo aligns…" He said and then looked away. Makoto blinked, was he finished talking? She scratched her head but left him be, he seemed content with himself, disturbing him would only make him sad. Something she can't bear.

                When night fell completely, he had finally finished the bucket of ice cream, the Neapolitan kind with blended vanilla, strawberry and chocolate. She wiped his face with a warm wet cloth and then pulled him gently to his feet and led him to the table. "Dinner time." He gave her the empty bucket and she sighed and put it in the sink, he sat and poked at his soup and as she handed him a spoon, taking it, scooping it up like ice cream, ate. She flicked the channel to something more amusing than…bright balls of light, even if they were pretty to look at, it gets boring after…eight or so hours of …blank pictures of it. She perched her chin up on her palm while she channel surfed, landing on a sitcom she set the remote down and watched it while eating her dinner. 

She looked blankly at the alignment map and scratched her head when the man with a scrap piece of paper and a pencil, began to draw and mind his own business. Makoto stared some more at the alignment map until having the need to go to the washroom. Upon returning, her map is gone and to find it under the man's hands she yelped and tried to pry it from him, hoping he wouldn't draw on it too hard so she could erase the marks later. To her surprise…there sat the complete systematic order of the astronomical sector X2. Along with extras she knew no one would believe she knew. "N-Naru…how do you know all this?" She stared at the names clearly printed, the lines that connect astrological signs that weren't necessary and then a special star that sat in Virgo…that he had circled. "What's this?" Makoto asked and pointed to the star that he circled, he glanced up and replied blankly, "Nephrite, aligning soon with Virgo Star."

                                Makoto recopied the paper in her own writing and took away the extra details just so it won't be too suspicious. He sat and scribbled on the paper until Makoto checked on what he was doing. He showed a crude drawing of a stick figure, a woman, very tall…no face and really long hair and in her twiggy hand is something that looked like a bright star, very shiny with the squiggly lines indicating it, or is it smelly? "Who's that?" She asked him while looking at the woman with big wings and long dress roughly shaded in by pencil. He snatched the paper back and drew in the face, two eyes, a nose, and a mouth and on her forehead a sign. "Aria." He said, "Aria." He repeated and handed her the paper, "Woman."

                Makoto laughed and took the paper, "Aria…she looks…pretty." Makoto blinked, the twiggy woman kind of…frightened her, at least the way it is illustrated. The woman is very slender, too tall…on her head a veil that traversed down the long tress that carpeted the setting that she noticed now, to be a plateau inside a forest, an opening. A large pond and there stood beside her a little boy with wavy hair and in his hand a book. The woman looked void of any expression, which she supposed that was how he drew…but the more she looked at it the more uncomfortable it made her feel. "Yea it's nice…" Makoto breathed out and gave it back to him, not wanting it anywhere near her…for it just…stirred something up. He took it back, "Nephrite." He pointed outside the balcony door where she followed his finger, "Nephrite meets Virgo."

"Look at all those pretty stars!" Makoto remarked, "Anyway." She turned from him, "It's time you get ready to sleep, we all know how much you love to wake up at the crack of dawn and eat ice cream." She muttered the rest and plucked him off of the chair, he didn't budge after that and remained standing close to the balcony door and pressed his face up against the glass. His gaze caught her attention and she soon followed it to a certain star that shimmered the softest hint of red, moving across the night as if a comet. "Are you sure that's a star?" Makoto asked out loud, "Stars don't move that fast." He didn't reply but is mesmerized by the movement and within the lost moment of the penetrating gaze…the softest sway of the wind through the window emitted. His bangs slowly pushed back and set on the mid of his forehead…a sign. "Come on now." Makoto tugged at him, drawing his attention away, "It's late, I need to finish my homework so let's just put you to bed." He shook his head slightly and silently followed her, looking over his shoulder at the window before entering the bedroom.

                                The sound of led over paper emitted and stopped, started up again and then halted. At last she finished and closing her notebook, stretched and yawned. Glancing at the clock, 2AM, how glad is she that the next day is a professional school day. Packing away her homework, getting it over with, she tucked in the chair and turned off the lights from the dinning room kitchen and turning the rest of the light off in the living room, walked off the dim hall towards the bathroom. Rushing water, the crisp splattering, emitted from a slightly ajar bathroom door with the densest of steam escaping from it, the undisturbed sleep of a man. Upon exiting, a towel encircling her heated body, flicked the lights off with the scent of wild lilies scattering across the small corridor, entered her bedroom where a soft smile played across her lips. Though this is not the way she'd imagine it to be, to share a bed with a man, she'd rather have it this way…to have someone with the purest of thoughts, almost like a child, a heart of innocence, uncontaminated. The cozy room of a warm beige, the small vanity by the far wall with a large curtained window overlooking the city upon a high apartment and there a glass door closet. In the centre with the head of the bed pressed up against a wall, a double bed, on the right side, Nephrite.

                Walking towards a small chair where her nightgown sat, draping the soft fabric and along down it descends, pulling the towel off. At last in her pyjamas she draped the damp towel on the chair and sat in front of the vanity. Untying her hair, the luscious russet that descended down like auburn waves, coiling softly over her shoulder as she ran a thin teethed comb through it. Brushing it over her left shoulder, leaning forward she pumped a bit of lotion on her hand and then dabbed a bit of it on her face and then massaged it in. Repeating so for her arms and then her legs, leaning over the side of the short stool, oblivious to the pair of placid ceruleans opened in the shadows. A stranger, a woman…a beautiful woman…sat in front of him, adorning a rose coloured nightgown that ended just above her knees with the tiniest of straps on her broad smooth shoulders. _Naru_? She seldom looked up and finally completed her task, with a small blue stick in her hand, ran it over her lips the transparent coat protection for her lips and stood up. Yawning she walked across the bedroom, neatly kept, sitting on the left side, her back to him she leaned over on the night table and pulled at a few selection of books. Her mind deciding on a thick green one titled "A Dance in Heather", obviously a romance, sat up against the bed frame with the light shining down on the small text, read.

                                He glanced over lazily at the text, heard her muffled giggle of the sweetest laughter, a lot like music to his ears, and watched her read. Her eyes lowered, veiled by dark lashes, long, curvaceous. The softest hint of verdant beneath them that reminded him too much of Naru. Yet he knew this could not be her, she…is too different. The sign on his forehead seared, memories, knowledge, everything, the stars. Nephrite has aligned with Virgo, Nephrite has returned. She flipped the page, yawned but covered her mouth with the back of her hand and then tucked in the pressed leaf as her bookmark and closed the book. Resting it on the night table she glanced over at him, his eyes closed, she leaned forward and brushed his bangs away. Leaning forward she pressed her soft lips against his cheek and with a light whisper, "Good night." Flicked the lights off and lowered into the bed.

                Deep sleeper, on her side he slowly leaned in, sitting up he peered over her shoulder…a sleeping beauty indeed. His fingers brushed along her shoulder to the blanket where he brought it up higher and whispered in return, "Good night…" No name mentioned, who is she? A remote memory, that she had saved his life…and housed him and nursed him. That is enough said, this kindness. Lowering back down, no need to be alarmed, he turned on his side and watched as she stirred and then rolled onto her right side, facing him. Her delicate curls sprawling over her shoulder, the white pillow, a halo of auburn in the dim setting of the moonlit heavens, knew that next to him is no ordinary woman but the new guardian of Virgo, the star. Magnetized, he could not draw away but kept watch over the guardian, guarded her gates…and vowed to never let her slip out of his grasp. His hand loomed over from his side, the distance like a mile, rested on her cheek, the warm smooth silk, caressed it gently, brushing a few stray strands behind her ear before withdrawing. She is no Naru… He lowered his eyes, she isn't Naru. Yet, he knew in his heart fate, it was fate, Naru was never meant to be his. With the tender sigh of his breath, releasing all that he held dear, knowing that embracing it would only make him fall, decided to aim for something that is there, next to him. His Virgo star, truly, Nephrite has met the Virgo Star.


	13. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Twelve: Conse...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Twelve: Consequences

By: Juki

                                    Agonizing pain that no one would ever comprehend, his tension never at ease, agitated. The burning distortion on his back, his feverish brow concealed by heavy damp gauze, perspiring… No amount of ice could ease the torture and the pounding on his sinuses and upper back, no amount of medicine could put him to sleep. His sharp lashes out towards the nurses, verbal ones, made him unpopular among them and uneasy with discomfort, began to use profanity. The sound of the door did not ease him but brought him to a quieter cursing routine, that perhaps someone around cared enough to ease his pain. She entered, after thorough thinking…knew that he is only a man, just like the other. Setting her backpack onto the chair she approached him quietly and finally standing over him dared ask, "Do you feel better today?"

                                His bitter laugh introduced to her his bitterness, and then came the inevitable grind down from his merciless tongue. Except today. "No." He simply answered, as if defeated, he simply said no. She tilted her head to the side, his reply shocked her more than any strewn together insult he could ever say. "Is there anything I can do?" She volunteered and stepped up next to his bed. "Ice…" he motioned somewhere near the side where a tin bucket sat with miasma coated its surface with a lighter tint. She took a napkin and put in an ice cube where she handed it to him. He ran the surface of the ice across his face that had reddened from his fever, irritated still but too tired to do much, melted the ice cube in a minute. Leaving him temporarily relieved from the hot humidity he then said. "Roll me to my front…p-please…" Ami nodded and with great care rolled him onto his front. He seemed choked up about something, she could tell, his silence disturbed her. "Anything else?"

                He nodded but seemed reluctant as if he knew she would refuse. She smiled kindly, not that he could see, "Just ask." He buried his head into the pillow and with a muffled voice asked, "Could you massage my back…" She made out some parts of it whilst standing there trying to figure out the rest, at last solving it she mindlessly agreed. She untied the strings on the back of his hospital gown to reveal a very heated back…she could simply feel the vapour of his heat riveting up. He was…quite well built, considering he spends most of his time reading and commanding nurses to push him around in a wheelchair. There at his lower back…near his hip but at the back side…an inked print. She tilted her head to read it, it is in a manuscript she does not understand, it looked…like a word…then again not.

The soft breeze running against his back simply comforted him; it felt enough…for a while. Then as she ran over some ice over his back, he bit down on the pillow, muffled his sound of gratitude and closed his bandaged eyes. She dabbed his back with a towel, the water that had run down and slowly and meekly ran her hands up his back, hoping to smooth some tension away. She worked at his shoulders, rolling the muscles over then over the upper back where she pressed down and then moved inwards with her palms. He started to breathe easier, as if he had been at discomfort from disability or having been deprived of proper breathing. His comfort…made her feel a complete satisfaction that no perfect test could ever give her. He seemed so hard to please…and yet she had pleased him. If only he were more so like her mother…that he would just tell her what he wanted her to do…and show that she is proud.

                                "Ami…" He breathed out, she acknowledged it and looked up. "Yes?" He moved his hand, "You can stop now." He instructed and then with his extended arm fumbled around the table until he pulled out something ragged and old. The leather patching of the book, she soon realized, eaten away and frayed pages, yet the golden print in the front did not fade and he held it up. She took it and read from the top. "Deis et nole." Latin? She turned to the first page and there…a pressed sprig of rosemary and paper that aged in colour to a fading gold. "I can never read this." She remarked with an exhale and leaned up against the side. "You will." He said, assured, confident, how could he have such faith in her? "Once I teach you." She laughed lightly at this, at the thought, of course. He pushed himself up slightly, looking a lot better he sneered, "I swear I'm not going through with another treatment." He rubbed his temple, "It hurts more than it helps." He sat up and leaned by the pillow. "You can take it home." He said, "It was my favourite book…when I was…young." He said and waved his hand dismissively. 

                She nodded and tucked the book away, turning the book around, a glint that looked remarkably familiar, then it matched the ink tattoo on his lower back, she paused. "What does…that tattoo…mean?" she asked while tucking the book carefully inside her bag and then stood up, staring at the wall, waiting for his reply. He seemed hesitant to answer but then with a bitter chuckle finally replied, "Aria." She arched a brow, "Is that a name?" She asked and turned to him, studying his expression that promoted more hate than anything else. "No." He stated flatly, "Aria means heart." Ami nodded, "Is it in Latin?" She asked him. "No." He said quickly, "And there's nothing special about the tattoo…it's just there because…it was a price I had to pay…for someone else." He moved away, as if she could see his tattoo, which he felt ashamed and she could detect it from his tone. "Aria…" She whispered, "but there was more than that…sign on your back." He seemed discomforted, "I'd prefer not to talk about it, Ami. I thought you would be smart enough to catch on my discomfort." He said nonchalantly and kicked the sheets up to where he could reach and covered his lower back once and for all.

She apologized, "When can you teach me to read that book?" She asked him. He thought for a moment, "In a few days…when I can actually think." She thought for a moment, "But the laser treatment is in a few days." She noted. He made a face; "I'm not going through with it anymore." He winced slightly, "It's…" He stopped. "Painful, I know it is." Ami said and placed her hand over his, "But…this last treatment is essential, if all goes well…your vision will be restored." He pulled his hand away but slowly, "No…" He turned his head away from her, "It's not the pain…it's the searing memory of a price that which this reminds me of that makes me determined to _not_ go through with the rest." She did not understand, "But…" She stopped herself; there is nothing she could do if he is determined. "I thought you wanted to see what I look like…" she jested, he smiled. "Not particularly…no." Ami arched a brow, "I could be …very beautiful and you might miss out on it." She charmed, a lot like the old Minako she used to know. He shook his head, "Or very ugly, then what a waste of time, money and …tolerance."

                                The night spent arguing, he yawned. "Well, it's late." She remarked, "Please don't let something in the past get in the way of the future…" She commented on his previous phrase of a memory and a price. "Whatever it is, it isn't worth the only chance for you to see." She drew the blankets up and tucked it in. He remained silent throughout her speech and when she opened the door he called to her, "Wait." She paused and turned her head, "Do you want to hear a story?" He asked her. Taken aback by this forward invitation she took a while to answer but she retorted with a yes. She pulled a chair up next to his bed as he inhaled deeply. "It started…a very long time ago…"

                A dainty town close by an enchanting forest, the robust movements of the people, that it seemed irregular in a sense of the unity involved. It was best described as a tragedy that meant more happiness than anything else. He once believed in beauty…when he did not see. He was born with a disability, that at first he had the vaguest of all vision…that eventually deteriorated when he aged and finally when he reached two years old, lost complete capability of sight. He had a brother, or more like an idol to him. He had never seen his father, who shortly after impregnating his mother, had disappeared. His brother, two years above, though is much too young to be a father to him, it felt close enough. The love between them could not be put into words…they shared everything, whatever they had they shared, food, sweets, toys. Except one thing that could not be shared. Despite his adoration to it, this French braided silver chain, the emblem of their father, which when he grew older is told that his father did not leave…but died, in a battle known as the crosswise exuberant of the east. The only remnants of the heroic man was this braided bracelet that to signify the meaning, his mother had given…to the oldest son, to Kaito. He could not see it and as he felt the cool braids in his hand, fell in love, but there is only one…that they both equally loved. Priceless, irreplaceable…the oldest son did not keep it but gave it to his brother. The chain a slight too big but it fitted nonetheless, perhaps in a while threatened to come loose but stayed. His prized possession, he could not live without.

He relied solely on his brother, his brother was his eyes and at times his mind. A daring fantasy he had, to be able to swim in the cools of the night and in one humid summer night…came the reality. Something that seemed so innocent, he could not imagine to have gone any worse. Because of the bracelet that had been lost in the swim that his brother had gone back by himself to look for it. Blindly he, without much thought, dove in, searching. When he found his brother, he was…well beneath living and in his desperation, without his eyes and his mind, he knew nowhere to go. There in a distance a voice called him to shore and with a daring wish, which was granted before his thoughtful approval…came the price of two. His brother's ability to live…and his vision…both had the same price…that now he realized he could never afford. Their hopes and dreams…both scattered in the wind for these gifts that now, meant nothing, but as a reminder of who they used to be, the bracelet now is in the hand of his brother, the martyr.

                Ami fell silent into the tale, that this twisted truth could mean and in the lines, hide some of his hidden past. His hand came up to his heart, covered it firmly and with a distant smile said, "From then…I knew I owe him everything." He signified to his brother, the one who he had foolishly in his place, accepted an invitation, a childish one. To extend his life without his consent, but who asked for his permission when it was taken? The searing pain of his head felt like a mosquito bite compared to the heart-lodging jab of the twisted witch's hand in his heart, tearing it out, his aria, and crushing it into the wind. The burning iron of the emblem forcefully inked into his lower back, the reminder of his promise, his devotion…had he known it meant his heart, he would've rather died. _Aria Desaisi_…heart discarded…


	14. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Thirteen: App...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Thirteen: Apprenticeship

By: Juki

                                                Frosty vapour, his coughs congested and broken as his back heaved. His eyes tearing from the suppression that rushed through his head, the feeling of…drowning emitting once again. Her warm hand against his back, trying to calm his upset lungs but seemed to fail, the medication worked but left him in a flustered manner…with endless fleet of coughing. Sympathy met no ends, she tried this vapour rub, it seemed to work but then again not. His coughing sounded less painful but nonetheless there, then after a few minutes more, finally came to a full frontal stop. She sat next to him, in silence, confusion is nothing new to her but bothersome as always, left her uncanny. He collapsed onto his front, his head on the armrest of the tan sofa, simply laying there, catching his breath, greedily snatching in air as they come.

                                Her hands set folded on her lap, in all of this, taking in all she could, it was too good to be true. A man who showed affection, it seemed that she is not meant to fall in love. Ironically she is also the Goddess of Love…there are some things she'd rather let it stay unsaid. She pondered if he knew, would it matter? She glanced at him, his broken discord, how could a man like this once cause so much agony? 'Please change…' She prayed, and as she leaned over to check if he is still breathing he looked up, composed, cold. "Thank you." He said, it sounded monotonous, but he is grateful, she could read it in his eyes. He rubbed his chest and sat up clearing his throat, "Stay?" He asked while standing up, walking to the door where his guitars sat in a pile with his amp wrongly set up. She contemplated, it really didn't matter where she stayed, but if she remained here…at least she wouldn't be completely alone. Though it felt like so, at least there's an actual person here. "I guess." She answered after a pause and looked over to find him carrying his guitars into the opening of the living room and at last gave her a perspective…and a new interest to look at his home.

                A stylish set furnished in dark mahoganies, chocolates and tan to the softest of white chocolate that is the luscious carpet underneath her feet. The chocolate coloured coffee table, the tan caramel of the sofa, everything seemed to match. Urban, down to earth, she liked it. He nudged the amp to the side with his foot while he unzipped the hold of the guitar case and drew out the black and red acoustic. He sat on the ground and with the pick tucked underneath the strings he plucked it out and strummed down and tuned it accordingly by ear. She leaned back on the sofa, staring at the high ceiling with the lights that resembled spotlights for a stage, closing in over the fireplace on the side. The soothing harmony of the chords, she closed her eyes…and kissed her troubles away. Selfish maybe, but if she didn't sought out for herself, who will?

                                He never did look up much, or talked in that matter. His eyes set on his left hand that switched from chord to chord, as if it were somewhat entertaining to him. "Tired?" He finally asked, shifting from A minor to D minor, the subtle sense of depression embedded in the harmony. She glanced over, "Not particularly." He paused, "You can look around if you want." She thinned her lips, "Will you give me a tour?" He chuckled then shook his head no. She grunted and yawned, "Then no point…" He shrugged, so nonchalant, how she'd like to smack some fun into him. Awkwardly she stood up and looked around the living room that sat relatively dim, only the light from the kitchen over the open counter lit up the place. Over the mantle, empty picture frames, something that tugged at her heart…that he is so alone. Keeping the secret, until he knows who she is, she isn't going to tell him.

                Everything is well kept, not a speck of dust, she'd suspect that he couldn't tolerate that with his breathing problems, flicking on the lights over the mantle, then off then on and adjusted the brightness. Gave a homey feeling towards the room, this touch of gold shining down. His chords had turned to rifts, as if he is angry…he took out everything on the guitar that in close up she noted, is quite battered. His strings once hard now softened from his prolonged plucking and with the fast rhythmic screams of the notes she walked around him and peered around, roaming freely. She supposed he is the type that really cared but didn't show it or…at least she'd like to believe that. Roaming through the downstairs to find the kitchen spacious, the dinning area marvellous and connected to the kitchen counter with the high stools, very contemporary and then an entertainment room and a reading room.

Ending her downstairs tour she leaned against the wall that led beneath the staircase that roamed upwards, listening to him, his engross…she wondered if he would care if she went upstairs. Even if he didn't, she'd rather he accompanied her. Seeing his electric guitar lying around she decided to join him, taking it out of its case she started poking at the strings. His playing stopped at her meagre and laughable attempt. He sat up and looked over his shoulder, seeing her holding the electric upside down and with her right on the frets, he laughed. "What?" She asked him. He turned around fully, facing her with the light behind him, his face a shadow. She moved over onto the sofa where he turned once more and with one hand, his mighty strength, turned the guitar around and then sat it back on her lap.

                                He pressed his index, fourth and middle finger between the second and third fret on the last three strings coming down. Minako tried to copy but couldn't hold the strings down enough to make a decent sound. "That's a D." He said, and moved her fingers to it and with his hand pushed it down, "Strom down." He instructed. She strummed, this time it sounded better, at least she could hear the last note. He moved her hand up to the fourth and fifth string at the top, the hard strings that hurt her fingertips, pressed it, "E minor." All on the second fret. She strummed down, it sounded good, she smiled. He moved her hand to the seventh fret where he planted her index finger down on the third string and with the third and the fourth skipped a fret to the ninth and planted it on the third and fourth string. "E5." He said, Minako could barely hold onto the note as she strummed. It sounded weird. "Here." He showed it to her and strummed, the crisp sound, she envied him. "Those three chords, you can probably construct a whole song with." He shrugged.

                The following hour came with her struggling to keep up with him, he never seemed to show much boredom despite her constant failure. He had a lot of patience, she interpreted. When she could play the basic chords, not well but knew what and where they are, D, E, G, C and A, she started strumming them randomly. In a way, he sounded better playing it. Go figure, he probably played the instrument for years. They traded guitars, Minako held the battered acoustic while Kaito set up his amp and electric, in a matter of moments he stood up. "D." He moved his hand comfortably around without looking, Minako looked at her fingers, "D." She repeated. He rifted while Minako strummed, "E." He instructed and moved his hand up on the second and first fret. She took a while but got it nonetheless. He rifted once again, never did he start going off with his rifts, he just played it all on the same chord. "G." He moved his hand to the second and third fret, held down the last and upper two strings, strummed. She knew the G, she liked it because it is the easiest. For her anyway.

The following C and A she had a few problems with, she couldn't figure out how to squish her fingers into the strings that bundled together or spread them out to hold down four strings. Then he played all of the chords really quickly and it sounded like a song. He laughed, "You'll get it some day." He said and with that unplugged the electric, flicked the amp off with his foot and set it down. "I'll show you to your room." He said, she looked up, he's too unpredictable or is he just bored?

                                The flight of stairs led to something similar to the downstairs, the upper floor itself opened in an odd box like shape in all around places, there were a few empty rooms, one room that held a lot of shelves and books and instruments including a drum kit which drew her interest and then he showed her to a nice room closest to the stairs and close to the bathroom. She entered, a connected room she soon discovered, to the masters, a red bed, literally decked in the colour, would make tomatoes proud. The theme colour of the room is red and black, Rei would definitely love this room. He leaned by the door frame, "It's the…most feminine room in the…" He coughed, "House." She giggled, "Where's your room?" He walked to the side, opened the door to show a room decorated in grey and navy. "Here." He said and walked in. The room were barren of any posters but had another empty picture frame hanging over his bed frame, a desk filled with papers, a walk in closet and then a beanbag chair with an ottoman that matched by the far wall. If it weren't the colours, she'd call it cozy. Curious again, she ran out of both rooms into that room filled with books and instruments.

                He followed her as she sat behind the drum kit and started beating away, he stayed composed despite the loud racket she caused and then walked around to a tall shelf filled with trophies and memoirs. She stopped the beating and set the sticks back on the snare and stood up, poked the piano keys and then started playing chopsticks. He seemed to be mesmerized with a certain bronzed plate, she didn't pay much heed but looked over the piano top to find music books, a pendulum and a small trophy plate that read, "Honours 10." He stood over her, she could tell for his shadow cast over concealed part of her keys. He sat next to her, opened up a book and waited for her to try. She blinked at the little black dots on lines, stared blankly at them until he leaned forward and with his long fingers pressed the keys and started playing. She huffed, okay he's talented, she knows… "Since you play so many instruments, why don't you sing?" She asked him.

He laughed, "I can't sing." He shrugged and closed the book when he lost interest, so temperamental. He closed the piano and watched as Minako looked through his books, "I wanted to be a singer once…" She sighed out. He looked up, "What stopped you?" She paused and looked on ahead, "Something that's meant to be, I guess." She shrugged, "Well," He didn't seem to take that as a very good answer, "Sing something now." She looked at him awkwardly, "Now!?" He lifted the piano lid again, "Name any song, contemporary…" He placed his hands on the piano keys and waited. Minako thought, what song did she know very well? "Wind…beneath my wings." She blurted. He thought for a moment before planting his hands into the keys, playing soft chords he waited for her to come in, playing the intro more than once. She tensed, she couldn't, she stopped him with her hands. "I can't." She said half laughing, "Not now anyway, I'm not ready." He looked at her, then took his hands off the piano, if that is what she wanted, he isn't going to try and change her mind.

                                "Anyways." Minako laughed, trying to conceal her embarrassment and of course the short strand of hope that had been lit when he encouraged her to sing. She knew it's impossible, that's not her destiny, not part of her fate. She tucked her hands into his pocket, the moment of silence so awkward, he let the top down on the piano and stood up, tucking the bench in. "Perhaps we should get ready for bed." He suggested, the clock striking 2AM. She nodded in agreement and followed him as he flicked off the lights and with a lingering moment, glanced over her shoulder at the piano…then looked away, for good.


	15. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Fourteen: Cas...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Fourteen: Casualty

By: Juki

                                                Lapping water, she dabbed her face clean with the provided towel and with a borrowed toothbrush, which she would keep him clueless about, studied herself in the mirror. It had been a while that she worked up the courage to look in the mirror, to see her own reflection, to see the reason of her parents' divorce. Living a lie, she supposed it would come sooner or later, turning the tap off, the sound of water draining, the gurgle, the struggle. Caught up in it she turned her eyes away, away from the beautiful woman staring back at her with equal hope, a constant reminder of her destiny, why did she have to do what is right? The lost ceruleans, lost everything, how could she believe in love…when something her parents, the perfect demonstration, had shattered to pieces in front of her eyes? Her fingers clenched into a fist as she looked down, 'Best not to think about it.' She told herself and with that composed herself and stood up, examining the borrowed oversized shirt, the unusual black, which she strayed from to conceal her darkness.

                                Upon opening the bathroom door, he stood outside waiting, leaning against the doorframe without much expression, as always. She wondered if he is capable of…smiling…or laughing genuinely or showing any hints of sadness. Anything will do. She couldn't read him, he…is too reserved, it frightened her…the more she wanted to know, the more he hid from her. Is it intentional? He looked at his toothbrush, "Hmmm…" He gave a knowing grunt and closed the door after her, leaving her outside in the empty hall…with an ironic smile…that though he frightened her, he intrigued her all the more. "More to tame!" She rolled up her sleeves comically and for a moment, found release in her humour. He exited a moment after, in his street clothes but evidently had washed his face for tips of his platinum dress are damp. He walked passed her into his room without a word, she wondered if it offended him that she used his toothbrush…and face towel…and wore his shirt. She followed him into his room where upon entering found him undressing. She blushed and stepped out of the door…but peered in, could not leave the old school curiosity.

                His tanned back flexed in the dim light of his lamp that sat next to his bed, folding the black shirt on the sheet, with a composed voice called, "Stop hiding behind the door." She covered her mouth and quickly snuck into her room, how could he know? He shook his head but did not stop himself from undressing as he pulled his dress pants off and draped it over his bed, grabbing the pair of grey sweats, pulled them on and threw on a sweater. Picking up his clothes he walked out of his room to the bathroom where after that, is seen without them. He left the door open that was supposed to separate the two rooms, sat on the beanbag chair that faced the door, pulled out a book and started reading while Minako tried to hide in the bedroom. Thankfully she blended in with the red and black…and looked like a giant pillow on the bed… It was strange how this isn't her first night at his house…the first time she had slept on the sofa…it felt strange but nonetheless it had happened, nothing to change about it.

                                She glanced through the blankets, so poised, how could he be so tranquil? He stayed completely immobile, almost getting her bored from his lack of movement, expressions and words. She wondered if he had any friends, all these empty picture frames…saddened her that he had so many of them without a single picture, not even of himself. He turned the page, a new movement there, let's celebrate! He stopped and looked up suddenly, his piercing gaze breaking through the blankets and straight to her, she quickly covered her head, caught…blushing. His eyes did not lift, she could feel them burning through the blankets that altogether felt too light and suddenly translucent. So intimidating, at last it lifted, she felt it, and peered through to see them off onto the book again. "Nerd!" She whispered at him, hope that he wouldn't hear that but for some reason he did and looked up again, she hid…for good and did not come out of hiding until she heard him get into bed.

                Breathing heavily, the binding limited air she could get in a blanket, looked through the door to find the lights off, she wondered if she should close the door…but he had left it open for a purpose right? Or no? Fixated on that dilemma, she only flicked the lights off and sat in the darkness…cold… "Where's the heat!?" She asked out loud and shivered, curling up into a ball and slowly drifted into a light sleep. Snapping awake, the coldness too unbearable, she touched her face, felt around it to actually feel it there, bundling herself up in the blankets she stood up and ran into his room to find heat. She was deprived! The light from the streetlamps outside the window shown across for he had a window near his bed, the horizontal patterns scattering across his bed. He slept topless…his left hand tucked under his pillow while his right sat comically over his chest, as if saluting. With a light movement, his right hand slipped off to the side…and there sat…a tattoo. Minako cocked her head, leaning in she squinted and saw that it's some sort of writing that looked exotic but altogether foreign.

Waving her hand in front of his eyes, to see if he actually sleeps. He seemed sort of high maintenance …not in a sense of personality but he seemed so cautious and with his history… He did not stir. She touched his hair, he did not move. Her eyes fell onto something silvery, moving her hand towards it, a sudden movement, his right hand fled across and clasped around her wrist. "What are you doing?" He asked with his eyes closed, as if sleeping but had he been awake? "There's no heat in my room!" Minako complained. He released her wrist, "Meh." He simply breathed out and rolled over. She smacked him on the arm, "I'm cold!" She repeated, her voice getting shrill. "Bah." He made another noise, moved over…she blinked. "What?" He did not reply afterwards but hogged all of his blankets onto the left side, leaving the right side unoccupied. "I'm not sleeping there!"

"Meh." He said and then moved over again, taking up the bed. She poked him, but he did not move or made any noise. Trying for the bracelet again, he moved his hand away and rolled onto his side, back turned towards her. She stood over him for a while, knowing he probably wouldn't get up any time soon, sat on the right side of the bed, all warmed… Nudged at him, he moved over, she took up where he had last laid down, for it is warmer, and closed her eyes, her back to his. "Better not be a pervert…" She muttered. "No one wants to touch you." He snapped wisely and then covered his head with a pillow.

                                The redness over her eyes, the warmth, she groaned and slowly peeled open her eyes to find it broad daylight. Next to him, he slept, facing her…the softest of all features. She quietly rolled over, facing him…his soft breathing…at last he looked relieved and relaxed. She longed to touch his face, the perfection, but knew it would only wake him up. She didn't have the heart…not now anyway. His long dark lashes shielding mystical orbs that no one would believe, his tress for once out of its stiffness and fell naturally over his face, a loose strand over his cheek, ruffled, a little messy…adorable. The sheets drawn up under his chin with his arm over it, and his hand underneath the pillow in front of his face. He liked that, tucking his hand under his head through the pillow. She glanced around the room and felt like home and for a moment pretended that he is her husband and she, his wife…then reality came when her eyes fell onto the clock, 8:50 AM.

                She sat up abruptly, "School!" She screamed and went berserk, looking around for her clothes and when at last scrambled out of the bathroom with his toothbrush in her mouth, she nudged at him and when he didn't wake, with the mug of cold water in her hand for her rinsing, poured it over his face. He sat up wild awake, water dripping from his face. He looked…not so composed, at least now she knew that he…is capable of being angry. His eyes fell on her coldly as she slunk away, toothbrush and foam in her mouth…and then ran as fast as she could into the bathroom. She didn't hear anything from outside the bathroom, peering out, head first, no signs of him…stepping out completely, he stepped out of nowhere and with a hand, grabbed her by the collar and dragged her into the bathroom, uniform and all. Calmly he pushed her into the shower stall, too stunned and afraid to do much she stood cornered in the small little stall as he took the showerhead, the portable type, turned the water on, felt it with his hand and then inevitably sprayed her with it.

Her scream came across, he made sure every inch of her is soaked, head to toe, uniform and all. Then turning the tap off, a smug look he dropped the showerhead and let it dangle and calmly said through gritted teeth, "It's Saturday." Then exited. She screamed, irritated, angry…embarrassed, all these things, stamping her feet she stepped out of the shower stall and looked at herself in the mirror, looking like a wet dog, hair matted to her face and all. Slammed the bathroom door shut and began to recompose herself.

                                Upon exiting could not find him, wearing that black flannel shirt he had lend her last night, looking through his room, then hers then the music room, concluding that perhaps he is downstairs, she walked downwards. A chilly breeze, she stopped near the foot of the staircase to find the woman…that bassist, embracing him. She stayed quiet and slowly walked up the stairs but couldn't help but eavesdrop. "Kaito…won't believe last night." She said and smacked him on the behind, "We stayed up all night jamming and then passed out on the floor…" He laughed, "And why are you here so early? Shouldn't you be out somewhere wasted?" She punched him playfully on the arm. "Nah, just here to tell you thanks…and don't forget practice is in three hours…but I don't know if Taiki can make it. I heard he's got into some trouble with the police when he ran around naked in the city fountain." Kaito shook his head, "What an idiot." The bassist laughed, "Anyway, who's the girl?" She peered around him, "Never knew you liked that type." He didn't look back, "Don't mind her, she's just here for now."

                Minako went quietly upstairs after his statement, a little offended that she isn't significant enough…and started to wonder if he knew her name. He never did call her by it. Sitting in her cold room, shivering beneath the blankets, she heard the door close and quickly hid under the sheets, pretending to be asleep as he walked back upstairs. He paid no heed to her but got went back to sleep, she stayed in the bed, expecting him…he never came. After about an hour she heard him yawn and then walk around, getting dressed and then finally entered her bedroom. "Get up." He demanded…monotonously while standing next to her head. She covered her ears, closed her eyes and curled up. He rolled his eyes and with a quick movement, snatched the blanket clean off, leaving her cold and trembling. He took the blanket with him, folding it at the foot of the bed, she used one of her hand, pulled down the shirt to cover her legs more and then covered her ear again.

"I'm not your parent, I don't care if you starve or catch pneumonia. All I'm here to say is breakfast is downstairs, once I finish I clear plates, I'm not waiting." He stalked out of the room and down the stairs while she kicked her foot down on the bed and grunted. She reluctantly ran out of bed, walking down the stairs, the scent of waffles. He stood around and ate with a mug of coffee in his hand while the bassist sat on a stool, reading the newspaper. She felt awkward, the woman looked up, acknowledged her, then continued her reading. She rubbed her arm uncomfortably, she hadn't expect someone would be over…but then again this isn't her home…she has no control over who gets to visit and who doesn't. The overwhelming feeling of negligence she took a waffle from the plate and without a word disappeared upstairs again. The woman remarked after Minako had exited, "She's a nice girl, don't make her cry." Casually flipped the page and continued to read.


	16. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Fifteen: Hast...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Fifteen: Haste

By: Juki

                                                _Girl_. Nameless. Pieces of it came back as she stormed out of the townhouse after he had left with the woman. After all that she did for him…and that kiss, how could he pretend nothing happened? Wiping away her tears with her sleeve as she stood outside his home, lost in all the commotion and the fact that no one cares, stepped down from his porch. "I never want to see you again!" She turned to the house and with that ran down the street with her duffel bag, dodging traffic blindly while heading home, a sanctuary from the twisted and the careless. "Hey, hey!" A smooth voice, she bowed her head and apologized as she looked up to find that…that man from the previous night, the vocalist. "No problem." He smiled and examined her thoughtfully, "Is everything okay?" She stepped back, "Y-yes…" She composed herself, tightened her grip on her knapsack and prepared to step off when he stopped her.

                                "You look like you could…use some company." He looked oh so sincere…and the thought that someone wanted to know… She blinked, how did she end up here? This café? The cup of warm chocolate in her hands, he sat across, "My name is Taiki by the way…" He extended his hand, she shook it, "Minako…" He smiled, "That's a sweet name." He said, drew his hand back, "So why all the tears?" He sipped the coffee; the unusual blend of indigo and obsidian that were his hair…he is attractive, there is no doubt. His eyes an alluring hazel that veered towards the golden side, his complexion clear, arched nose, soft lips, cute. He rubbed the back of his head shyly, "Why are you staring?"

                Minako snapped out of it, "S-sorry…" she fixed her hands tighter around the cup, "Nothing…it's just…some guy problem." He sighed, "Too many guys? I understand, someone as attractive as you would only have a few fan clubs running around." She laughed, "N-no…" He smiled, "Well, at least I made you smile." She blushed, "I-it's…this…guy, you see…at first I thought he liked me…that way when he told me he wanted me and told me to stay. He kissed me and now he pretends as if nothing happened…and it seems he might like someone else." Taiki rubbed his chin, "Hmmm…" He sipped his coffee, "Well…I don't know, it might sound as if he was only using you…did you and him…sleep together?" Minako flushed red, "S-sort of…" He thinned his lips and frowned, "Well, point him out, I'll kick his ass next time I see him." He offered. Minako shook her head, "No…it's okay…I'll just stay far away from him."

"No, you shouldn't have to avoid him, he's the one that made a mistake…a grave one." He tilted her chin up, "There is no need to be shameful okay, Minako? Hold your head up, let the world see the beautiful girl that you are…and if you want, we can work some revenge and make him regret the day he made you cry." She sniffed, "Maybe…" She looked reluctant, he drew his hand away, "Look…I have to go right now for a practice, here's my number, call me when you make up your mind, ciao, Mina." He winked, flipped a strand of her hair around as he walked passed her, paid the bill and walked out, throwing his jacket on as he strolled casually down the street. 

                                Her hand trembled as she waited, the ring tone…finally, a click. "Taiki speaking." He said, she cleared her throat, "Taiki this is Minako…from yesterday." He paused for a moment, "Oh so you made up your mind?" Minako fixed her finger around the telephone cord, "Yes." She finally concluded, "Cool. What do you have in mind?" She veered her eyes down, "Could you do me a teensy little favour?" Without much thinking he replied, "Shoot." She inhaled sharply, "Pretend to be my boyfriend." He laughed, "No problem, it'd be a pleasure…so…who's the guy?" Minako bit her lip, "It doesn't matter…but he'll be at your show tonight…" She glanced down at the bulletin on her table. "…Okay…meet me half an hour in front of the club and I'll get things set up." With that he hung up. Minako blinked awkwardly but hung up afterwards…had she been too impulsive? She barely knew this man…but then again she barely knew Kaito.

                Standing outside the club, in a distance he came, a backpack on his shoulder…a bright smile. "Sorry I'm late, the bus had to stop." He took her by the arm, "So…let's go in, I'll get you the passes." He pinned the tag on her shirt, the sleeveless tank; she meant it when she wanted him to regret it. Adorning a snug fitting pair of jeans…a mid drift tank top…her hair put in a new order, wavy curls. Taiki smiled, "You make me proud…" He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. "Wish it wasn't just pretend." He whispered into her ear before stepping back and smiling. "But I've got to get set up with the rest of the band, you've got the pass so you can stay back stage for a while…I'll see you after the show." She waved to him, blushing…he isn't so bad…she could just settle with him any time. Nothing to lose.

                                The quietness of the club when all is emptied out, Kaito wound up the cords for the amp as the sound of heeled shoes came from behind. "Minako!" Taiki called out and ran up to her, "Glad you stayed." He wrapped his arm around her, "Come here, I'll introduce." He turned her to the drummer who sat drinking a bottle of beer, he waved and smiled, "This is Juno, the drummer…Juno this is Minako…" Juno nodded his head, "You're a cute one, if he turns, tell me and I'll kick his ass." He winked and sipped his beer while Taiki led him to the bassist who looked at her for a second, wanting to say something but stayed quiet. "Meet Yumiko…the bassist…she's with the drummer, so don't try and pry into that." He laughed. Yumiko only looked at her, "Good warning, Tai." She said and with that walked off with a look of annoyance across her face.

"That one over there." Taiki pointed to the back of Kaito, "The guitarist, Kaito, he's weird…not the nicest guy in the world…so just stay away from him too and stay with me." He smiled and with a friendly tug pulled her in closer and with a daring move, planted his lips on hers. Kaito looked up from being called, glanced over his shoulder briefly and with a cool expression, accepted it and looked away. Yumiko draped her arm over Taiki, "Hey." She yanked him away, "A word." Minako stood uncomfortably alone while Juno disappeared, leaving Kaito alone with her. "He's not your type." Kaito finally said, Minako narrowed her eyes, "How would you know?" He shrugged, "You don't have to believe me." He picked up his guitar and left without looking back once.

                                "Whatever." Taiki ignored Yumiko as he grabbed Minako by the arm, yanked the VIP pass off and threw on the floor, "Let's go." Yumiko picked up the tag and watched as they disappeared, making a loud remark, "Guess you can't judge a book by its cover." He threw his arm over her shoulder snugly, "Want to go somewhere private?" Minako shook her head, "I think I'm just going to go home…thanks for helping me out." He did not release her, "Yea, but as much gratitude as it shows in a thank you, I'd rather have something else." He eyed her sinisterly, "You know…" She threw his arm off, "What are you talking about?" He laughed, "Don't act like you're oblivious to it…now come on, seriously…I can imagine us together."

                She had never imagined…his persistence, sitting in his jeep…how did she ever let him talk her into this? Driving off further than she'd know, stopping over a remotely unoccupied area he turned off the ignition and with a small press of the button, locked the door. His hand came over to her face, touching it softly, "You're beautiful." He remarked, leaning in, drawing her…she moved back. "I thought you wanted to talk about making him jealous." He rolled his eyes, "Well…I'd think _this_ would get him jealous…" He leaned forward, his hand on her lap. "Just a practice run…so we'll get more comfortable with the act." He breathed out. His hand came up her side, under her shirt, she squirmed, "Stop it, I don't want any part of this anymore." His busy hands, breath, she shuddered in revulsion and pushed him off. "Damn it!" He cursed when he hit his head on the window, angry, he lashed out at her with the back of his hand. "You listen to me." He yanked her by the hair, "You're stupid enough to come up here with me, might as well go through with it." With her hand, she smacked away his face first of all that veered to close, pulling her hair away she worked at the lock. His hand came up over the collar of her jacket, stretching the material and popping the first button, she screeched and finally unlocking the door, exited. Running as fast as she could in those heeled shoes, the blind road ahead so far and harsh…disappeared…a bad memory, regret…despair.

                                The angry sound of music, high complicated rifts, a scowl on his face, the only expression he would let shown. The clatter of the rain against the window…pouring…if he cared enough to let himself cry, he would. He hadn't…felt that way before…for a girl that he cared enough for her well being. Did he always have to pin everything in black and white? Did he not show it when he told her…he needed her? That kiss meant something, though he would not show it or let himself acknowledge it, it haunted him. Everything that she is, he would love to embrace as his own…but the constant reminder, the burning of the tattoo over his heart, he could _never_ forget what he has given. He is incapable of loving even if he cared for…he can't love her…the closest thing is friendship. His eyes closed, the repulsion he had towards Taiki…he hated that type…hypocritical, sleazy and persistent. The more he thought of it, the angrier he became.

                She stood outside his door, soaked, dishevelled…dirty. She owed him an apology but knew that she also needed to straighten some things out…she knew he could never forgive her…his type… Her trembling hand came towards the buzzer…then hesitated. Then again…forcing herself, she pressed the buzzer. Carried in the wind, the angry sound of his rage through music…and for the first time understood why he didn't tell her…he already told her through his music…he doesn't like to repeat himself, she concluded. The door slowly swung open and to his sight…he could hold no grudge. Her hair matted to her face, her clothing…her jacket torn…covered in mud…the moment of silence… She ran in and embraced him, expected him to stand idle but felt his arms around her as she cried into him and with jagged breaths cried sorry…sorry…


	17. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Sixteen: Unsp...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Sixteen: Unspeakable Truth

By: Juki

                                                Paled expression, it pained her all the more she saw him, sitting there immobile with a sickening gruesomeness that saddened her more so than frightened. Through the process of the laser treatment he had grown solemn and with his energy he would save just to keep awake these days to teach her how to read. "You know you don't have to…" She would constantly remind him as he lay half awake in bed, his eyes heavily bandaged but could tell by the bulge that they are swollen. Despite all this he would try to persuade her with his witty remarks that sounded altogether too pathetic to convince even a child. His weak laughs that would shift into a strained cough…she snapped the book shut, even if he thinks he could endure this, she couldn't. "I think I've read enough for today." She said, he did not stop her but attempted to move. "I told you…" He sounded like a rattled man straining to breathe, "This laser hurts more than it helps." Her hands fastened around the battered book, he had only recovered for a day from the treatment…his body could not take much more yet fortunately that was the last. 

                                Her feathery touch soothed him even if he would not tell, brushing the damp bangs over his head, dabbing his heated face with a cool cloth. He is forever grateful and would only relent to her, this innocent child deprived of the turmoil of humanity. He forced a meek smile, "You better not be ugly…" He teased, "This surgery's for you." He breathed out a laugh and with her aid lowered onto the bed. "Well, don't get your hopes up." Ami said sternly, "I'm not that great looking." She gave his chest a rub and then pulled the sheets up where he immediately batted them away. "Too hot." He whispered and simply let them stay by his waist. "How old are you?" He asked her, hadn't he asked before, she thought he knew. "Seventeen." She replied, fluffing his pillow. He thinned his lips, "You whippersnapper…" He jested with an elderly mimic.

                She laughed, "Get some sleep, Gramps." She ruffled his hair, something he had allowed her to do, and then said, "Want to hear another story, youngling?" Ami drew the chair up, the metal scraping across the vinyl tiles answered his question as he cleared his throat. "When I was seventeen…" His voice sounded distant as if it had been a long time ago yet his physical attributes completely betrayed that. He looked no older than his mid twenties. He paused, "No, never mind, not that story." He cleared his throat. "Why don't you tell me how you learned how to speak Latin?" Ami asked. He twitched his lips, "I grew up speaking Latin…" He laughed…knowing it sounded absurd but Ami believed it…knowing his duel identity. "How about…your brother, Kaito…what's he like?"

                                She had struck a sensitive area, he bit his lip and for a moment, Ami felt incredible guilt for asking so…but is rewarded when he began. "He…changed a lot through the years." He began, "Used to be…naïve and very easy going but as time passed and that through his eyes he saw the twisted world…he grew distant…reserved…he is the only one of us who accepted his fate." His fingers folded, tensed, nervous? "He…loves music." He sounded broken, as if hiding some things, and she understood that he had every reason to. "When ever he gets angry or frustrated he likes to hide, stay alone and think while playing some instrument…despite his talents in music he can't sing." He gave a laugh, a short one for that is the only duration of time he could sustain, "I might sound indecent as a brother, for not being able to…describe him well…but he's distant, even at times to me. If I want to paraphrase it into some sort of human category, our relation would resemble somewhat of a lover…not less so a brotherhood. We kept secrets from each other, but we are close…we…_I_… lost our ability to share." He looked ashamed, tilted his head down. "But anyway, I haven't seen him for…years…I don't know where he is, he might be dead."

                He sounded…altogether faultless in his act to sound nonchalant but she could read clear his words…the long pauses that he is reminiscing and withering from the guilt that he carried upon his shoulders. She supposed he never did forgive himself for deciding his brother's alternative fate for him…highly understandable but still he couldn't forgive himself. His tension subsided when she diverted the subject, "Did you have any female relationships?" Was that question any better than the last? Who knows. He seemed to be much more relaxed at that, "Maybe." He smiled smugly, "Maybe not." She arched a brow, "Well, give me a definite answer." She poked at his side, he batted it away irritably, "Yes." He rubbed his side and grunted. She nodded her head and sat there staring at him. "When did the doctor say you could take off your bandages?"

He leaned back, "In a few days, I don't know." He shrugged nonchalantly, "Why? So you could go and make yourself presentable?" She shook her head but realized he could not see that, "No, I was just wondering, that's all." She perched her chin on her hand…and wondered if he knew…or cared that she is Sailor Mercury or remembered at that, he had not mentioned it. "So what is your name?" Ami asked him, probing along the lines of that, hoping it would come out clean, this answer. "Sade." He answered, she arched her brow. "Sade?" He nodded his head, "I thought…it was…Zoisite." He tensed and did not answer, "Sade." He persisted a moment after his pause that seemed to last forever. "Zoisite is dead."

                                The dense cloud of awkwardness draping over them…did not waver as she adjusted her seat, a beacon scream in the solemn quietness. "It's okay." He brushed it aside, "At least you had the courage to ask." He fixated his gaze onto his hands if he could see, but did not look the least bit perturbed. "You're Sailor Mercury." In his mind he could pull out that image…of a slim girl…has yet to mature into a woman, he could not dismiss the childish picture in his mind. Obviously she would've changed, how much? He would never know or cared much to. "Since we're along that subject matter…how is…Sailor Moon…Usagi?" Ami sighed, "She's in a coma." She stated matter-of-factly, "From an unexpected attack by an old foe." He took it in, "That's unfortunate." It sounded uncanny that before this man would've rejoiced at Sailor Moon's death…now shares in her pitiful wither.

                 "Do you know…or have any idea…on how…?" Ami looked at him almost sceptically but he could only shake his head, "I'm as clueless as the next man…but consider this, if I'm back…the others should be." He drummed his fingers on his abdomen while he stated this, a large hint for her to grasp. "Ask the man who knows the stars." He shrugged, "Or ask your friend who can read fires." His tone altered slightly, as if in spite but then again not. Perhaps it is still strange to him that these names he used to spit out venomously has now altered into something…something else. Less than ordinary of course. Ami paused, why had it not cross her mind? That she could go and ask Rei…but it seemed that they had all grown distant…Usagi is the glue to the ultimate end, is it that without Usagi, they drift apart?

"Well, I better go." She finally said, this session had strayed too far from its destination, she made a mental note to never probe in the past again, not with him anyway. He seemed altogether disappointed at her remembrance of his past but knew that it is better than having it shroud the future. He acknowledged it and laid his head down as she exited quietly with a barely audible good night and shut the door. He drummed his fingers on his abdomen again, contemplating. He had some sort of…suggestions to which how all these things from the past are returning…and as much as he'd like to tear away his history, he couldn't and knew it's inevitably true…the past is returned. In his mind a name that had long been forgotten, that to remember is just as painful as forgetting. The name rings clear, _Aria_.

                                Mesmerized by his tantalizing gaze, the warmth of his touch, she believed him with all her heart. _Nephrite_. His temperate smile, the cool breeze of the turning wind from autumn to winter, inevitable. Leaning against the balcony, the blanket drawn up close, he released his tension into the air in mist form and whispered, "Mako." He drew her attention up to the sky, his finger pointing to the east, "It's aligning." He breathed out, glanced over at her as she watched. "What is?" So oblivious, it did not bother him one bit at that as he guided her head to face the east, "The Triads and Capricorn." He stated, "It could mean good news…or bad." He chuckled. "Then what determines the good and the bad?" Makoto asked, resting her head up against his shoulder as he answered, "Fate…destiny…hands." He closed his eyes, "Or simply by a decision."

                She nodded her head, longing to just drown in his eyes yet captivated, intrigued by all his knowledge, asked. "What do you think is holding in the future?" He seemed reluctant, "The past…" He veered his eyes down from the heavens, "The past is destined to emerge…someone ancient will return…that is all I am allowed to know." Makoto looked to him, "And this you drew from the stars?" He shook his head, "This…I know from a memory…" He detached himself from her and leaned over the balcony, overlooking the ground that seemed so far down. Her hand came to his back, stroking gently as she followed his gaze. "You're thinking of her…aren't you?" Makoto asked…she knew it would only be a lie if she were to say he didn't miss Naru. He nodded briefly, she drew her hand away and with a forceful smile, diverted her eyes up to the sky. "Sometimes it's best to be oblivious…than to know everything." A glint in her eye, the forbidden tears. "I promise you, Nephrite…I will do everything in my power to unite you with Naru…" He smiled and left it at that.

                                The reality check of a knock, she turned around, left him alone on the balcony and headed towards the door. Upon opening found someone unexpected but altogether pleasant to see. Ami smiled, entered after she is invited. "Sorry it's so late, Mako." Ami said, sliding her shoes off and let Makoto close the door behind them. "I…I have a few questions I'd like to ask…" Makoto nodded, "He's in the balcony…I'll go get you something warm to drink." Makoto turned to the stove without getting a reply from Ami who took it as a chance to speak to him alone and walked into the balcony. He seemed to be captivated by the stars, and she could understand…the vastness itself is impossible to grasp. Somewhere along the lines, she knew he would know what she is here for.

                Without looking back he sighed, "My knowledge of the future is limited." His grip on the metal fence increased, "The price of knowing the future is isolation…a good example would be Pluto…" He stated calmly, "I myself is in this fate, this future…is binding us all together. Though I am uncertain, I know of this, there is one final battle…and victory is not assured for the future is altered when the future came to the past…the eclipse of the moon, the black moon." Ami tensed, "The Black Moon Family…they are behind this?" She asked him. He shrugged, "They play a role, just like you and I." He turned around, faced her…an unreadable expression on his face that seemed to be a mix of frustration and disappointment. "Not even the spiritual flames of Mars could read this future…there are too many forks, too many possibilities." He locked eyes with her, "And I can see you've already begun…the future is unwinding fast…too fast."

"Do you know who we are going to face?" She asked him, approached him modestly and stood in front of him as he laughed. "Yes and no, Ami." He leaned back on the fence, "Zoisite knows…" He furrowed his brows, "He sent you to me but I am as clueless as he…" Ami shook her head, "If he sent me here, he's got his own reasons." Nephrite shook his head bitterly, "What he dare not spill, I dare not say. This force that is being reckoned with…temperamental…it holds no Master yet someone is attempting to Master it. A parable, what is ancient that does not age but change when future comes to history?" He left it at that, he could say no more…for that is all he dared to allow to be slipped out from his tongue. "Ancient but does not age…?" Complication…a force…frustration all over again.


	18. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Seventeen: Aw...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Seventeen: Awakened

By: Juki

                                                Steam evoked her senses, spiralling up mercilessly from the bubbling milk that scalded the bottom of the stainless steel pot. Her wooden spoon still in the evaporating substance until snapping out of it to stir, salvaging the little bit of milk into several mugs waiting, the sweetened hot elixir. She stood over the counter until the sound of the balcony door sliding is heard, turning around she placed the mugs onto the table and there the perplexed expression bombarded her. Something is wrong? Ami sat down, thanked half-heartedly as she buried her face in the hot steam, soothing…relaxing. Nephrite stood up, picked up his glass and warmed his hands while remaining silent and still. These times she hoped that someone like Usagi would be around to break the thick layer of ice around them…that seemed to freeze the senses, all of it. "So…how's Usagi doing?" Makoto asked Ami, whom she knew worked at the hospital as a volunteer.

                                She looked up, a little taken aback by the question, "Fairing…relatively well for someone in a coma…" What other way could she have put it? There is no 'lighter' method to breaking the news than the direct truth, she figured. "Maybe we should go visit her?" Makoto suggested, looking between the two. "Not tomorrow." Ami said quickly, "How about this Friday night?" She looked up, Makoto shrugged; "I suppose it'd be alright, I've no plans this Friday." Nephrite acknowledged it and sipped the steamed milk. The long pause of silence, that it isn't simply because they knew what each other felt…but because they didn't. Makoto opened her mouth to speak, finding nothing productive she closed it and then her eyes afterwards. Who would've thought so many close feelings could leave her so empty. She could stand it no longer, "Ami, what are your plans?"

                Ami looked up, puzzled…confused…she held no answer. "I…" She stared down at the grain on the table, the feeling of not knowing the answer, how she loathed that feeling… "Don't know." She looked up, something brewing beneath her ceruleans, are they tears? "What's happening?" Makoto looked from Ami to Nephrite, "Is there really a new enemy?" How could they feel such solemnity when nothing is affirmed? Then the reminder of the encounter with the demonic woman…that ivory creature…she set the cup down. "We need to get the others…" This is a starter, at least. Ami nodded, "Maybe in a few days…the devastation…" Ami gripped at her chest, "Of…Usagi's accident is still sinking in, I believe."

"I've…a muse." Makoto started, "Do you think that Esmeraulde appearing…at that fair…isn't an accident…but something to put Usagi out of the picture to shatter our unity and power?" Nephrite pulled the chair away and sat, "I think you've got a good point, Mako." He smiled to her kindly, "But…" He stopped himself, "Usagi…will wake up, right?" He altered what he was going to say…he wouldn't and cannot mention the Aria…not now… Ami rubbed the smooth glass, "The chances are high…but…the time is uncertain." Makoto sighed, "I wish I could take her place…in that bed…take all the pain away." She whispered to herself, and seemingly no one had heard or paid any heed.

                                The rain poured outside the window, nothing compared to the tears and anguish shared in the spacious home without her loveliness…kindness…smile. Deprived, they are…to the last member, the feline sitting by the window…staring up at the hidden moon, shrouded by the clouds. No one ever thought of looking outside…through the dripping sheet of rain gathered on the panes, the impaired film…to the man standing in front of the house, holding an umbrella…in the rain…waiting, wait. The silhouette, faceless, and in a matter of moments, a blink of an eye, he dispersed…no trace not even a footprint. Perhaps it was an illusion…a wondrous illusion or a faulty lifeless dream, whichever, the decease exists.

                The howling of the wind that seeped through the windows matched the constant weeping…no appetite the luscious meal set in front of them. A place mat unoccupied but not empty as a foolish mother sets up an extra placement for someone who is not there. The sleepless nights, restlessness for the telephone call from the hospital, nothing. Only the tinkering of the glass china and the utensils, nothing more maybe only the breathing. The hesitation…who would know? "Sensei Haruna…asked about Usagi today." The voice of an innocent child. The sentence immediately triggered tears that were only hidden by a thin veil, sauntered down her face as she buried her face in her aging hands. Her quivering shoulders, left a lump in his throat, the young boy wished he had never mentioned it for his mother's tears soon renewed his own.

His sleeve swiped across his face constantly, "Don't cry, Okaasan…" He didn't dare touch her, this quivering wreck sitting diagonal from him, so frail… He stifled his whimper, he must be brave…without the father he will be the man of the house. How he wished that his father had taken all this lighter…instead of burying his sorrows instead of in his hands, to alcohol. He sat…lost in the den, opened cognac, the hot spicy taste laced with bitterness; it met nowhere near his devastation. The sound of weeping, the tears closing in, drowning. Suffocation. His knuckles whitened, his grip on the bottle tightened and to deafen the hatred sound of emotions, took a generous sip…this rhapsody of amber.

                                White meshed with black, no difference, black and white. His tending licks against the built up clot by her cheek, the tangled fur that he flattened and dried along with the tears, the felines. His tail wrapped around hers, entangled, what more could he do? The drumming of the angry rain, home? What home? Without their Princess, things will shatter, no unity…they stray. His warm soft cheek brushed up tightly against hers, whiskers against whiskers, eyes bear down to a close…opposition attraction.

                                The phone rang, heedless, darkness, no occupant and with the click of the answering machine, the familiar voice, "You have reached Aino Minako, sorry, can't pick up right now, leave your name, message and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you." The long beep and the clicking of the tracks of the tape, "Minako, this is Mako…are you busy this Friday night? Ami and I are wondering if you'd like to visit Usagi with us at the hospital…and for some other business to tend to, we'll meet you tomorrow after school at Hikawa Shrine, okay? Remember!" The line disconnected and soon another phone call, tapped once again to the answering machine, "Minako, this is Rei, I don't know if you've visited Usagi lately but the doctors just called and she's showing some signs of waking up…I'll call Mako and Ami, see you in the hospital in thirty minutes...hopefully…"

                "Makoto speaking." Makoto leaned nonchalantly against the wall…the familiar tone, "Oh hi Rei…what? Okay, Ami's here, we'll be there in thirty minutes…alright…okay…see you there." Makoto hung up the phone and looked towards the two who had detected her excitement, "Usagi might be waking up soon." Makoto rushed into the hall to the bedroom while Nephrite leaned up against the wall, "Should I come along?" He asked out loud, Ami paused, "I-I think it's best…that you stay here, maybe you can visit her another time with Mako…but not tonight…" He nodded, he understood. "Alright, give Usagi my wishes for her to get better soon." The temperate smile, Ami returned it and slid on the shoes, waited for Makoto before Nephrite suddenly pushed himself off the wall. "On the contrary…" He slid on a pair of shoes, pulled on a sweater, "I think it's best I accompany you…" A glint in his eyes, she did not decline.

                                By the time they reached the door, which stood ajar, her family members already crowded around her. Her eyes half opened, a little confused, in a lot of pain and hungry, she could only identify people when they are close enough for her to see and touch them. Her head heavily bandaged in gauze, her once beautiful Midas tress…gone, they had to shave them off when performing the operation on her head. Flustered, Minako raced up the stairs last, having only returned home from practice, her hair dishevelled, wet from the rain…nonetheless excited and anxious. They stood at the foot of the bed, shrouding the light as Usagi squinted, leaning forward to wince and lean back, never doing that again. "Minna…" She beamed half-heartedly and then reached out for them to come closer.

                The doctor entered, "Ah, so you've all gotten the call." He smiled, "She's a feisty one…fought really hard to wake up." He remarked and started scribbling on the clipboard on his hand, flipping a few pages, "She's still weak…need to stay for at least three more weeks for recovery and surveillance…you can have some time with her, but don't keep her up too long." He said, waved and stepped out momentarily after. Usagi looked among them, their blurred faces, she could only recognize them by hairstyle and when she stumbled across a tall man with black hair, she got excited. "Mamo-Chan?" Kenji shook his head, "No, it's your Otousan…Kenji…" He added his name and looked around, "I don't think Mamoru got the message, Usagi."

"I called him already." Rei stated, "He didn't pick up, maybe he's not home…I'm sure once he gets the message he'll come visit you." Minako simply stared, "I'm so glad you're awake!" Makoto remarked and touched her on the leg, gave it a warm squeeze she beamed. She knew Usagi wouldn't fail them…she'd always pull through. One of the many things Usagi is so accountable for, she always shows up at the nick of time.

"Alright." A nurse entered, "I know you've missed her a lot, but she needs to get her rest…so visit her tomorrow…" She ushered them out, Ikuko cried tears of joy while being ushered out, "I'll bring you your favourite meals tomorrow!" She called from the outside and quickly talked of going to the market at ten in the evening and asking Kenji to drive her there.

                                They stood outside in the parking lot, the rain had stopped and the clouds slowly rolling aside for the half moon. Nephrite stood in the shadows as the four girls stood on the side. "Let's meet tomorrow at the Temple…after school…" Makoto suggested, "I need to confess something…" Rei seemed uncomfortable, "I don't know if the temple's the best place…I have a…guest and he's constantly in my business so…how about…the park?" Ami shook her head quickly; "I think it's best we talk about it now." Minako, fixated, "We can't just stand out here…" She shivered, "Can't we find some place to go? A café?" Through the talking they did not see…and as a silhouette stopped in the shadows by them, Rei nudged them to be quiet and looked up towards the man. Holding an umbrella, in civilian clothing, in his hand he held something…

                Rei froze; he looked too familiar, déjà vu… About to speak the man put away the umbrella, "Girls, you're blocking up the parkway for the ambulance trucks." A medical assistant, an old man in his fifties, "Please step to the side…" Makoto laughed nervously and ushered them off to the sidewalk while the man ran back to the truck and started it again with the loud sirens and bright flashing lights. "How about we talk about it now, at my place?" Minako suggested, being the one that lives closest to the hospital. They agreed and headed towards them as Nephrite's physique faded into the darkness…vanished.

                                As they turned into a narrow street, talking, ahead a person standing, blocking their way as the streetlights suddenly flickered on to display an old foe…in different clad. Her verdant tress streaked with obsidian, thinned and hooked back, a hollow gaze in her eyes, adorning an onyx number that looked like a large cloak, sprawling sleeves. She bowed mechanically and the four stopped a distant away…alarmed. Rei tucked her hand into her pocket, ran her fingers against the cold red pen, lifeless that saved lives. The woman stood back erect, something about her…as if something is missing. She took a step forward, the others a step back. "Where is she?" The woman asked them, as if they knew who _she_ is. Most likely…Usagi.

                "I don't know what you're talking about!" Makoto spat out hastily. The woman cocked her head, "I do not understand." Monotonously, she said. "Where is Sailor Moon?" Minako locked her jaw, "Esmeraulde…" Ready to pounce, Ami pulled her back. "Wait…" She whispered. The woman reached into her pocket, Rei pulled out her transformation pen…getting prepared. From her pocket, a crest of brilliant scarlet as she rested it in her hand, this fragile stone. "I've a gift for her from the most high." She took a step forward, "It is only partially fragmented, if it is restored to him he shall still keep." Ami stepped forward, "What is that?" Esmeraulde smiled ironically, warmly, "Aria." She breathed out, "Aria of someone named _Chiba Mamoru_."


	19. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Eighteen: Dam...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Eighteen: Damnability

By: Juki

                                                Crimson exploded impulsively as ribbons and flame encircled around her bare physique and upon finale released a fiery warrior, the champion of clairvoyance known as Super Sailor Mars. Esmeraulde nodded knowingly, "Do not be alarmed, Sailor Mars." She brought the shimmering scarlet up to align with her face, peering into the alluring light capturing stone that split light like a diamond. "This is not the Palisade Aria, no residue." She tossed it in the light and watched as it only deflected light. "What I am looking for is a half broken heart." She whispered, "This casualty." She caught the stone back in her hand, "Is as useless as the next." Sailor Mars gritted her teeth, "Give it back to its rightful owner!" She hollered, stepping forward, drawing the attention to herself as behind her the three young women fell into brilliant lights of cerulean, gold and verdant.

                                She arched her fine brow, this rejected beauty, without her shrill laughter, she is quite tantalizing. The intimidation of her calmness and nonchalance…overwhelming. "It is not if I return it or not," She played around with it carelessly, causing Sailor Mars to step forward all the more, "It is if he wants it back." She fastened her fingers around it, "You see…this can not be taken unless it wants to be." With a twitch of her hand, the stone vanished. She tucked her hand away; "He is on my side now." She whispered charismatically. "You're wrong! He would never give up his heart!" Sailor Mercury shouted, trying to convince herself more so than the other. "Wouldn't he?" She asked in return. "My task is accomplished." Esmeraulde drew the crimson stone out once more, "For Sailor Moon." She lifted it up above her head and with a cruel smile released it as her body exploded into shards of glass and shattered in the wind as the crimson jewel fell inevitably downwards.

                With all her might she dashed forward with extended hands, slid her hands beneath its veering path as she fell flat onto her front from the slide and in a moment, caught the warm gem into her hands, scrapped elbows but all worthwhile. "Sailor Jupiter!" Sailor Mars ran behind her, with the warrior's help, stood up and examined the stone, this shimmering star. "We need to find Mamoru." Sailor Mercury stated, "And we need to make sure this is safely protected." She gestured to the fiery stone, molten passion encased in a star. "Where can we keep it?" Sailor Venus asked as she looked at it with stilled eyes. "With me." Nephrite offered, igniting into sight in a flash of auburn breeze, Sailor Jupiter handed it to him as Sailor Mars intervened. "What are you doing?" She asked her sceptically. "Of all the people that should take care of it, it should be Usagi." Sailor Jupiter sighed, "Does Usagi look like she's capable of taking care of this?" Sailor Jupiter asked in return. Mars silenced and stepped aside as the stone is handed to Nephrite.

He looked at it with a gentle smile, "It is not damaged." He said and closed his hands around it, he closed his eyes and with a release of his soft breath, opened his hands to reveal a red butterfly that sauntered into the night. "Where is it going?" Sailor Jupiter asked as she followed the butterfly a few steps. He looked up at it as it ascended into the heavens, "To be kept safely, it cannot be let alone to die…" The butterfly dispersed into scarlet glitter and scattered in the wind as he looked down, "Esmeraulde…" He acknowledged is the name of the woman; "Is right." He moved his hands back down into his pocket coolly, "Don't waste your time trying to find him…he _is_ going to be on their side from this day on." With that he turned around and walked off.

                                Sailor Mars ran after him, "Stop!" He halted. "What do you mean he's on their side?" She cried out, "He can't!" Nephrite shrugged, "He is marked, Sailor Mars." Nephrite lifted his sweater over his head to reveal a shirt underneath where he flipped over at the back to reveal an emblem, similar to that of Zoisite and Kunzite. Sailor Mars stilled, "B-but you're different, he can change…just like you!" He rolled his shirt back down, back to her. "Did I?" he looked up, mused and gave off a distant laugh. "It has begun…" He shook his head and sighed, "Guard your hearts, ladies…one of you might be next…just keep this in mind, there is nothing worth more than an Aria…**nothing**."

                Makoto ran after Nephrite, looked over to them and signalled to call her as she walked beside him, trying to find out more, as Sailor Mars stood stigmatized in the cold. She could still feel the warmth on her face, from that 'Aria', they called, a heart. The others caught up soon, with comforting words…and the bended truth…how will they tell Usagi? Does she need to know now? Words rushed up towards her, dazed, confused, she covered her ears and ran off leaving Sailor Mercury and Sailor Venus standing…exchanging glances. "Sailor Venus…" Sailor Mercury looked to her, that smile again, why is everyone smiling? "It's best that we keep our guards up…on people around us, around…Usagi…especially her family and her _friends_." Sailor Venus nodded, "Keep in touch…" With that, the blue warrior stepped off into the night, something about that ironic smile, a hidden secret? The Palisade Aria…what is that?

                                Routinely, sat slouching over on the ground, drumming the ground with chopsticks directed from his mind, the loud sound of the sliding door, he acknowledged it but did not stir. Her hand came quickly, over his shoulder; tore at his shirt with a fierceness as he looked up startled at her abruptness and immediately batted her away. "What are you doing?" He looked down at the unsnapped shirt, revealing his bare chest. "Where is it?" She asked him, tugging the shirt over his shoulder, looking at his back, on his arms, irritated he pushed her away. "Don't touch me!" He hollered and stood up, trying to piece his shirt back together to find it less than emendable. She collapsed onto the ground, something about her look of defeat that softened him in whole. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, less than irritated tone.

                She rubbed her eyes, "Stop that." He whispered softly, directing her dirty hands away from her beautiful eyes that he would hate for her to distort with those nasty fingers of anguish. He crouched down in front of her, stared at her until she looked away. "They got him…" She whimpered, drawing her knees up, trying to cease the tears from clouding over her eyes but failed to do so, one of those inevitable things. He touched her face softly, such a strong woman…he inhaled deeply, "Got who?" He asked, caressing the rosy cheeks, she had been running. Tucked a few strands of obsidian behind her ear, "Who's he?" She seemed hesitant and had every reason to be…but she relented, "Mamoru…U-Usagi's boyfriend." She quickly said afterwards to correct any assumptions.

"What were you looking for?" He asked, sitting down in front of her as she looked through his shirt, no emblem. "Are you marked?" She asked him, he looked at her awkwardly, "Why?" He asked her in return. "Don't answer a question with a question!" He laughed, "What's it to you that if I'm marked or not." He stated, threaded his hand through his hair, pushing it back suavely while looking at her in an angle. "What gave you the faintest idea that I am 'marked'?" She studied him. "Nephrite…is marked." She brought up, the man tensed slightly, "So?" She leaned forward, "Jedeite…are you?" He diverted his eyes from her prying searching ones, "It doesn't matter." Why must he be constantly reminded? She shook her head, "It does, it does matter, Jedeite!" She reached over, "Please…" he moved back bitterly, "No, it doesn't." He stood up, away from her.

                                Her eyes followed him as he sat down on the bed placement on the ground, rolling the wrecked shirt over his shoulders, those damnable moments where he looked the most lethal and sensual. He looked at the shirt, threw it next to his pillow and scrambled about uncomfortably without a shirt. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, "I'm sorry…about your shirt." She said quietly, he shrugged it off and tried to draw his attention to the pillow, trying to puff it up, at least do _something_ to make him look nonchalant. He rubbed at his shoulder, glanced over to find a few scratch marks, the exterior sting did not match the muscles that ached when he tried to shake her off his back. 

                She stood behind him, her hands batted his away and massaged him, trying to mend what she had broken. "I shouldn't have…done that." She reasoned, her soft hands working over the tensed muscles that did not seem to relax but tense all the more she came closer. "I'm fine." He shrugged her off, he always did that when she tried to be kind. Too tired to do anything about it, that she'd usually scold him and tell him how generous she is, but not tonight. She sighed, her fading fire worried him but he would never show it…not with her here. She worked at her own tensed shoulders while walking to her bed…at least one thing she would sleep well…she always slept well after crying. 

He glanced over, noticed as she sat on her bed, back faced to him again, rubbing her shoulder and neck, trying to work out the cricks. He grunted and diverted his eyes away quickly before he falls victim again, many excuses came up to his head, too young, old foe, too loud, too stubborn…ironically, that is what he liked in a woman. All the more damnable.

                                She sighed, frustrated, obviously her own hands didn't work, giving up she laid down on her back and buried her head in the pillow, something he noticed she liked to do when she wanted to hide. He shuffled across lightly, with a brisk movement mounted over her, not sitting on her, she'd scream if he did. His knees rested up against her hips, leaning forward he pressed his hands down on her shoulders and with a moderately tight squeeze, drew out a moan from her. He arched his brow in amusement while she laid underneath him, helpless? She wanted to be there, or else she would've squirmed her way out of it. He paused for a moment, drawing all of her hair over on one side as she slowly moved up, he moved back, ready to leave. She drew her hair into a hair tie and glanced over her shoulder slightly just barely seeing him.

                He looked back, and was relatively shocked when she untied the waistband of her kimono, lowered it on the side and slipping the thick white over shirt down her smooth shoulders. "Close your eyes." She commanded. He rolled them and backed away, sitting at the foot of the bed and covering his eyes with his arm draped over his head. She blushed, scrambled about with the rest until she sat in her under dress, which often she would wear to sleep. She laid down on her front again, pulling the blankets over to cover waist down she got comfortable with a happy smile and said, "You can open them now." He threw his arm away and with a snide remark in mind, said. "What makes you think I want to massage you now?" She opened an eye, looked at him with it, smugly, too smugly. "You will."

He wanted to stop himself just to humiliate and wipe that cocky grin off those lips he would love to devour, but…he didn't and crawled over her, sat on her bottom as punishment, if he is going to massage her, he might as well make himself comfortable. She complained about his weight and closed that one eye and laid there with her head on the pillow. "Don't you do a mediocre job either." Her muffled voice, he sneered. His hands came over her back and marvelled silently at the softness that his hand might slip off from the smoothness as well. He leaned forward slightly, poising himself up firmly and began his escapade, relaxing her shoulders and moving his hands freely over the thin material of her under dress. All too sensual, what a temptation…he'll be damned.


	20. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Nineteen: A M...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Nineteen: A Moment of Happiness

By: Juki

                                                The thin rose coloured straps of her under dress slowly slid from her shoulder as she released another soft moan that he couldn't help but pick up. She seemed too lost in the relaxation to realize he no longer sat on her…or rather that the blanket no longer rested snugly on her waist but down at her feet. He stopped his movement, simply sat next to her and examined her for the first time, through the eyes of a man. His fingertips caressed gently over her back, the silky material of her dress, she noticed and opened an eye. "Tired?" she asked him. He shrugged and she sighed and sat up, stretching she motioned for him to lay down. He did so, "It's only fair." She remarked. She sat on his lower back, the heat emitting from her body…like a vapour, swept him away. She poked at him uncomfortably at first until she cast away the formality and simply rubbed him down.

                                His hands that rested limply on the side, his left…slowly moved inwards and rested against her leg and with a daring move, slid up her leg, through the fabric of her dress as she snapped at him and smacked at his hand. He laughed and moved his hand away to only have the other move up over minutes later. She smacked him on the back, "Pervert!" She cried and about to smack him again until with a fluent movement, rolled onto his back, finding herself straddling him she attempted to move up until he stopped her. He had a kind smile on his face, some boisterous glint in his eye like a little child at a candy shop, something about that, she could not deny. "You want to see?" She arched her brow, "See what?" She asked back bluntly. "You wanted to see it earlier…" She thought for a moment, remembering she nodded her head.

                He perched himself up to a sitting position, her sitting on him, he looked up at her with thin lips, "Well, aren't we a little heavy." He grinned as she smacked him across the head playfully for calling her fat and got off him. He started unbuckling his pants, Rei covered her eyes. "What are you doing!?" She asked him hysterically. "Showing you." He grunted, obviously displeased by her shrillness. "Keep your pants on!" She moved away even more so than before. "Why? You can't see it with them on." The sound of the zipper, she cringed and turned red, "Where is it?" He moved a bit, "On my hip, where else do you think it'd be?" He rolled his eyes at the childish thought and soon excused it. "Are your pants on?" She asked him. "YES!" He cried out for the last time and she peered through her fingers to find them partially rolled off to show his left hip, a tattoo of something that looked like an A that coiled around a D like a serpent. "AD?" She squinted and moved in, he grunted, obviously he is not comfortable with her head hovering over his crouch.

                                "Are you finished?" He called to her, she touched it, and he tensed. "Did it hurt?" She asked, running her finger across the inked skin as if she had never seen a tattoo in her life. "Not really…not compared to the first part of the price." He laughed sarcastically. She looked to him, "How…do they…remove the…heart…?" She turned to him and sat by his hip as he pulled his pants back on, "What do you think?" He asked her blankly, then lay still with the pants unbuttoned and unzipped. She thought but couldn't imagine it, he sighed, "…She has a hand…that can penetrate flesh, penetrate bone, …fasten around your heart and at the moment you'd think you would die, to feel the pressure of her twisted fingers and without any notice, tear it literally from your chest…and you would fasten your eyes on…a crystal…that by looking at it would feel complete…and whole…and loved. Then regret everything at this short second that your eyes dare feast upon your own heart and your own ability to love and at what you can offer…and see it be crushed in her hands and scattered in the wind…" She looked at him, "What for then, Jedeite?" She asked him, "Why would you trade your heart? Esmeraulde said she can't take the heart by force, tell me it isn't true…"

                He looked at her longingly, "It's true…Rei…she can't take it by force…at least she's not strong enough right now to do it." His leg drawn up slightly he looked up at the ceiling, "I traded it all away…so I could be…a man that a woman would want." He sounded foolish and laughed at himself, at his own pathetic existence. She stared at him in disbelief, she couldn't…and for a moment, this long silence, something settled in…and she realized…this man laying on her bed…isn't the monster she portrayed him as…but a man who is battered and wounded…and wanting to redeem himself. Her hand, all of a sudden felt like home, no longer the mystery, rested over his heart, "I had a vision…" She smiled to him, bought his attention, "That…when one without a heart binds with one who does…" She placed her hand over hers, "It is unbreakable." He returned the smile, how he wished he could believe that, and to ease her innocent shoulders he nodded…just to spare her the disappointment, just to make sure that smile stays on her face.

"I have lots of love to give…" She stared him in the eye, "But I've only one heart…and…" He stopped her with his finger on her lips, he hushed her quietly, closing in the distance as he gazed into her eyes full of life… "Don't waste it on me…" his hand came over her hand that rested on her own heart, "Save it for someone worthwhile…" She shook her head, "No…" He leaned in all the closer, "Don't give it away because of…of sympathy or pity…like you said, Rei, you only have one…keep it…" With that, his lips pressed up against hers, sealing the fate that he had denied but inevitably had accepted.

                                Her hand descended down from his chest to his lap, the dynamic explosion of his kiss, she melted. His hand rested on her face, cupping the brilliance in his hand, the fragility of it made him quiver…but the passion strengthened him, boldness, he slowly leaned forward and with it, brought her down onto the inviting softness of the bed. His hand left her heart, he would guard it with his life…he knows what its worth…and with this silent vow his hand traversed up the side of her leg, roaming up the dress, this time she didn't slap him away but enticed him all the more to further his territory. His lips descended from her lips, molten lava, and his breath a wonderful drug, his touch…she parted her lips and released a breathless moan, beckoning call.

                Her cheek met up against his, the heat emitting from her toasty body, embracing tighter his lips mounted on her neck…the tender flesh. So pure…she is untainted, and how all the more he should guard her from them, from their twisted ways…she has not seen the world like he has, she hasn't known the cruelty, he will spare her from that, a promise, a covenant…a _devotion_.

The dress discarded, his trousers rode off and with the modest sheets that she insisted covering them in its shielding arms, stared him in the eye, asked him in the moment, "Will this last forever?" He leaned closer, leaned in next to her ear, "It will last…until I die." She closed her eyes and nodded, her leg slowly rose and hooked around his hip, with her thigh she covered the emblem, that scar, she will mend. His arms slid underneath, raising her up slightly, embracing her, he could not let her go. For a moment he smiled, perhaps it hadn't been a mistake, giving up his heart…for a woman, and now he knew, this is the woman he had given his heart for. All worthwhile.

                                Her hand pressed up against his chest, leaning in his warmth as he purged into her, the untouched womanhood she had thought she would save…but why save it when she could give it to someone like him? Her head rested against his shoulder, deeper he ventured, her heart picked up pace and he whispered into her ear, sweet nothings. Gentle and soft, his lips kissed her shoulder, drew her up until there is no separation between them and there he accepted her gift, carefully diminished her virginity and offered her something that was created to be shared, his undying devotion and if he could, maybe someday, love. 

                She tensed slightly from the distinct twinge between her legs that subsided into a drowning wave of pleasure that left her breathless and wordless. Her hands slid up from his chest, draped around his neck while she bit her lip, stifling her cries of ecstasy…to a soft pant. She called out his name, loud enough for him to hear, quiet enough so others won't, he kissed her cheek, closed his eyes…silence, only the joined beating of their hearts, her breathing…the warmth of her embrace, everything…he buried his face into her, his steady pace…unchanging, that through pain he had bought this woman and with pleasure, keeps her.

                                The jingling of his keys, she squatted down behind the sofa, the lights turned off, she hid. Hauling the amp and two guitars, another gig, his profession. Closing the door, locking it, something about the air, a waft of peaches, he smiled. Slipping his shoes off he flicked the lights on…something is different…and from the first picture frame looming over the mantle…a picture, he stopped and stared at it. She had somehow…taken pictures of him when he had been sleeping…and her laying next to him with pretending to be sleeping as well. He dropped the amp and walked around the sofa, towards it where he picked up the frame from the fireplace and looked at it. A bit of writing, he smiled and when he heard a shuffle, looked around to find her crouching. "How long have you been here?" He asked her, setting the precious gift back against the wall. She stood up, "An hour or so." She said and took him by the hand, leading him upstairs.

                He followed and upon entering room after room, found all of his picture frames filled with mysterious pictures of him when he is unaware or pictures of him that she found and pieced together with pictures of herself. His arm draped over his shoulder, "Are you trying to tell me something?" He mused with a half grin, in the music room as he called it and touched the silver frame of a picture of him playing his guitar that she probably took in one of his old concerts. She shrugged, something she had learned from him, he bit his lip and with a friendly rustle of her hair thanked her. He tucked his hands into his pockets, as if his home had suddenly been freshened with life and hope, he felt compelled to close his eyes but wanted them to stay open all the more. She pulled him into the bathroom where she had moved her set of necessities, he cocked his head, "Are you moving in?" He rubbed the back of his head as Minako twitched her lip smugly, "If you insist."

He laughed, what had he gotten himself into? She had somehow moved herself into the red and black room as he called it before, bringing a touch of innocence, naïve childishness and femininity…that could be a good thing he supposed. It'd be nice to have someone clean up the house…he thought for a moment before he looked at her, "You…_are_ going to clean the house right?" She blinked, "I'll…have the courtesy of _not_ making a mess if that's what you mean…" He had an awkward expression, she laughed at it, "Well maybe sometimes, but not all the time." He pouted, adorable! She hugged him, clinging she looked up at him, "Don't pout or it might get stuck that way…" She touched his face, "But then again, you look kind of cute like that, so maybe you should pout a bit longer." She paused, "Or not, ah!" She made a face, "Other girls will want you…" She rubbed her chin, "I must protect you _from_ them!"

                                He laughed, "If you haven't noticed, I'm…not popular with the women." He pulled her down the hall as she contemplated on what he had just said, "Not true!" She finally replied, "I know tons of girls who'd want to be in my place." He stopped, turned around and faced her, "And I only know one girl who I'd want to be here with me…" He nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers, "Now let's go turn the heat on for you before you start complaining again." She stuck her tongue out and followed him where he unlocked the casing that revealed the dials, turning up the left one he clicked the case back closed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned up on him while he draped one arm over her shoulder and played with her hair. "Since you've somehow gotten into my house, I suspect that you have a set of keys." She nodded with a mischievous grin and slowly walked with him out of the small little corner towards his room.

                "Won't your parents object to this impulsive moving?" He asked nonchalantly, she paused, he noticed her tenseness and without her having to say it he nodded, "Divorced, it's okay." He patted her on the head, "I shall be the father figure now." She widened her eyes, "No! No! No! No!" He blinked at her strong revulsion against that, "Why? Don't you think I would make a fine father figure?" She cringed, "That's not what I want from you…" He tapped his cheek with his finger, thinking, "Oh…all along I've only considered you a daughter that I've never had." She released him, "What?" He looked at her, she at him…a glint in his eye, she whacked him, "You bum!" She cried and stalked off while he broke down into laughter. A moment like this, the plague of reality never touched her, soaring above the sky with him…away from the torments of…of what is life, there is no love without hate, no pain without pleasure, otherwise how could one define them? A moment like this…she learned that maybe there is love after all.


	21. Volume II: Aria :: Chapter Twenty: Suffo...

Epoch Augmented

Volume II – Aria 

Chapter Twenty: Suffocation

By: Juki

                                                Is it selfish to cast away the troubles for a while to embrace something that could remind one that life is worth fighting for? Is it wrong to hide the truth yet not mention a word to someone whom one know that the other will _not_ be able to receive the truth at the moment? Is it destiny to find happiness with someone whom used to bring nothing but tears? These questions plagued her, eating her alive from within the constant growth of the doubt…and the fear, fear of confrontation. Whatever she, they, whoever, is up against…still anonymous to her, who is this malicious person plotting behind them all? It seems every blow strikes closer to home, first with each individual encounters, or at least to her side but she suspects there should've been individual encounters per scout…from Makoto's night to hers. Now with Mamoru, which she hopes is nothing but a gloat, gone…who will be responsible for his fall? Who is going to break this horrific news to someone that would die simply from a haywire glance and wallow in doubt by a nonchalant word? Who? Somehow she depicted from the past that she will be the one accountable for…telling her…and she feared it all the more.

                        Her distraction is evident when she would pause and stare blankly at the page…though he could not see that he could tell that she isn't thinking about the words on the memoirs of his fantasy past but of something else. Who is he? He has no authority to ask her…if she wanted him to know he will tell her… He sat there, a bit more comfortable than a few nights ago…no more pain, no feverish disasters, fully conscious…he drummed his fingers on his lap and waited patiently. She did not say a word and as a full minute passed he finally said, "If your mind is on something else, chances are what you're mechanically reading won't matter…come another time when you're focused enough to understand the plot. I didn't give you the book so you can just learn the words, Ami." He stated rather bluntly, his fingers locking around the sheet. That book…he would never give away freely if it were not for her sole interest, that book defined to him who is Zoisite and who is Sade. He is Sade…now…that book had been the one he had learned to recite with the help of his brother…that book…he fought to keep through the years…that book…he would risk his life for.

            She snapped out of her reverie, disoriented she looked down at the page until his words sank in, she apologized. He shrugged, so nonchalant, why couldn't he care? She closed the book and simply sat staring at him, tempted so to ask him…forming a lodged discomfort in her throat she cleared it and moved to the edge of her seat. "Ask it." He finally spat out irritably, she always shuffled when she wanted to ask something, this habit, if he can, he will try to break for her. She was relieved that he had been so forward… "Sade…you know…who I am." She looked at him, studied his expression as if asking for an approval. He nodded once, slowly. "A…lot of things happened after you…" She inhaled sharply, "A lot of villains…trying to gather and conquer…their aim is no longer the Ginzoushou…at least back then, they come up with newer more powerful items to capture. For instance…heart crystals, dream mirrors…out of the ordinary. Some came from the universe, some from the future…yet we as a whole team had defeated them, even if we had suffered much hardship during the time. And at times I would feel uncertain and that I or as a team, we would never get over this…high wall…but every time we manage…" He nodded his head, acknowledged what she had said.

"This time…" She swallowed hard, paused and then closed her eyes, "The feeling of doubt…has not subsided…it's so potent…I can't deny it or ignore it…and something tells me this is my intuition that something or someone really powerful…more so than I can ever imagine…is against me, us." He turned his head slightly to the side, "Did something happen?" He asked her, "Something that devastated you?" she nodded to realize he cannot detect it so thus said, "Mamoru…Usagi's boyfriend, also Tuxedo Kamen…" He waved his hand dismissively, "I know who he is." She hesitated but forced herself to finish, "His _Aria_ is taken." He seemed apathetic to the news and simply sat there, perhaps the news had not settled? Surely he can't be that calm! She waited long and hard for his reply but none came, "What do you think?" She asked him finally and as if that was the key, the door slid ajar.

            "Frankly I don't know what to think." She could not find any fault in his monotonous words but could only sit there helpless to the thought of negligence and forsakenness. "What should I do?" she asked him soon after, "That I can tell you," He said nonchalantly, "Just be on your guard and try to settle it the best you are capable of." She shook her head, "No…about Usagi and Mamoru…" He thought for a moment, "Are you absolutely certain that it is Mamoru's?" She blinked, "Well, no…" He laughed, "Don't jump to conclusion simply by what your enemy states, stay low, wait…the truth will unfold soon enough. What's the rush? Do you _want_ to tell Usagi that Mamoru is gone?" She narrowed her eyes, "Of course not!" She snapped back almost too quickly, out of character she quickly composed herself. "Then don't, just wait and see."

                        Perspiration drove into madness, his fingers, through his obsidian tress so acutely highlighted with bolts of lightning blue. Restlessness least of his worries, in midst of his dream the thoughts that clouded his mind constantly, the message on the answering machine…the phone calls, the visits, he isn't oblivious to them but could only ignore them. The repetitive warning, the umbrella that swung hauntingly at the balcony door, is smothering his hope for his queen with each sharp squeak of the metal handle of the balcony knob to the strange metallic handle. Sway, hypnotic, mesmerized but he could not shake this feeling of assertiveness that this time it may not be _just_ a test. It can never be, any doubt at all is a good enough warning yet the history, why must it drive him so? The fuel of his love for her based on a dream? What will she think? She certainly cannot take in this news at this critical point, at least that is what he told himself. Is this a considerate act, postponing the inevitable or is he only a coward?

            The phone rang once more, will they give him no rest? At last, he picked up, a static, "What?" He called into it abstractedly, nothing but this annoying static that would not subside. The evident voice now, the sound of pouring rain when the line cleared, the dripping, "Visit her." The masculine tone, if it had not been so broken it might've sounded charismatic. The discord, the heavy breathing as if this man behind this voice is reluctant, "For me." He added, then with an abrupt disconnection, caused him to hang up the phone. No doubt this is the man that called every other night with the same message to go visit her, substituting him. Sitting up he buried his face in his hands, torn from two decisions, leave the woman he loves to fight for herself in order to protect her or stay with her and risk having her die. It seemed the same, these two things, and the first if she failed to fend for herself, she will die. If the warning is true for the second, she will die as well. But death is so inevitable! Just to extend it…what will he do? What **should** he do?

                        So tempted to consult someone, but whatever they say can not waive the already set decision…maybe he is too weak, either way his mind is set, he will give way to the dream…he will, when she is strong enough, break up with her. It is best to see her succeed without him than die with him. Closing his eyes he exhaled, hoping to breathe out this intoxicating feeling that he can be wrong, this uncertainty, this pain. It will feel as if he will have to tear out a limb, but to save her, he would do anything.

            So complicated, this love, this heart, self-sacrificial intentions. Would be so much easier if he didn't love her or had a heart or felt guilt. It would be so much easier if she is not ill, then if she had not been ill now he might've never considered this dream. He could not excuse it, plaguing him night after night, beckoning him to listen, different visions so realistic he could feel her there. Being torn out of his grasp, hearing the devastating cry of her turmoil and to see her fall upon the ground lifeless, over and over again, this broken record. So much easier if he had no heart…so much easier…

                        The rising sun had once been beautiful in his eyes until he lost light itself altogether, cupping his heart he sat staring out the balcony, so lifeless and bored. Tired. Semi closed eyes, see to it that the day will go on without him…

            Emerging from the shaft of the elevator doors, the melancholy sound of the engine whirring above his head, the jolt of the stop, he held his breath at this lagged cower on his face and the tension of his heart, to deny it. A stealthy silhouette across the remotely deserted corridor, through a door and into the shady darkness of the semi lit room from the rising sun. Had time stopped? There in the same room, suffocating in its madness, he leaned against the door and stared motionless at the figure lying helplessly unconscious on the hospital bed…drenched in all of this pain…and he thought to himself…

You're not ready for the world outside 

_You keep pretending but you just can't hide_

_I know I said that I'd be standing by your side_

But I… 

                        He closed his eyes, how many times will he have to break his promise to her? That he would always be by her side no matter what? Had he grown to be so distant and nonchalant with his words? Devouring his fear he approached her, the past weaving through his mind, a heap of memories of her desperation…and couldn't help but wonder if what he is doing is right or not. Doubt. He wanted to run, this confining dark room, so rigid and ginger, he wanted to open the windows and air out the tension but knew it had settled through this mask of deceit on his face, breathing it in like oxygen, that every breath he takes is jagged and jaded. So contradictive, why must he do this every time?

_Your paths are meeting and it's not our will_

_And you can't meet it but you never will_

_And I'm the reason that you're standing still_

But I… 

                        Taking a seat silently by her side, his hands folded on his lap, fidgeting, he looked at her. So tender were her lips, and her touch, the affection in her eyes that he would give up in a moment's notice for a dream. Tempted to touch her he held back his own hands, war against each other, his left held his right down, so dire. She breathes, she sleeps, she will cry, he can't stand it when she cries…felt as if someone is twisting a blade into his heart…the most weary feeling he would have to neglect, to ignore the cry of her distracted pleas for him to stay.

_I wish I could say the right words to lead you through this land_

_Wish I could play the father and take you by the hand_

_Wish I could stay…_

But now I understand…I'm standing in the rain 

                        His head tilted forward…if there was something else he could do about this, he would. Fixated upon the tiled vinyl played across his feet that seemed to draw all of his focus. The faster the end the lesser time of pain, is there love without hate? Is there pleasure without pain? His trembling hand reached into his inner coat pocket…the pistachio coloured jacket he had worn too many times when he is with her. Fastened around a brittle rose and with negligent loath sat it next to her hand, a slightly wrinkled envelop attached to the thin stem with slicks of thorns prickling out hideously. The constant reminder that though a rose beautiful, its fatal protection is all the more lethal…to guard what is beautiful, his duty.

_The cries around you, not weary at all_

_Cause you know I'm here to take that fall_

_So you just lie there when you should be standing tall_

_But I…_

                        His eyes veered from her stilled hands to her slumbering state, so peaceful that it will betray everything that she will have to go through when she wakes up and is strong enough to go through the instructions within the letter that ought to be burned with the direst flames of hell, to deliver this withering heart from love. Guilt, as if he had been the one that placed this plague of unconsciousness on her shoulder, the one who pulled the latch when she stands abroad a thin wood with a rope around her neck. So constraining, suffocation, once again.

_I wish I could lay your arms down and let you rest at last_

_Wish I could slay your demons and now that time has passed_

_Wish I could stay…this tower's standing fast_

_But I'm standing in the rain_

I'm just standing…in the rain… 

                        If he could spare her the pain and agony of reality, the cruelty of jealousy and the hatred of maliciousness, he would gladly take it upon his shoulder but he is not destined to. Something, he remarked, has changed in the future and he is no longer the King by her side, or perhaps this is only yet another test of faith that he knowingly agree he has failed to keep. Pushing himself off of the chair, so suddenly bombarded with horrid serpents threatening to snarl and rebuke him if he dared sat another moment. His last longing gaze of affection and whispered in the silence of his heart, "I love you, Usagi…" and turned towards the door quickly before he is discovered or worse…begins to cry.

_Wish I could stay_

_Wish I could trust that it was just this once, but I must do what I must_

_I can't adjust to this disgust with darkness, that I wish that I could stay_

Wish I could stay… 

                        Pausing by the door, his hand halted in mid air before the doorknob, dare he turn and look? He forced his eyes shut and with brute will swung the door open and stepped out into the coolness of relief and escape. Inhaling as if he had been drowning he closed the door of remorse behind him, an old saying, when one door closes, another opens…he readies himself…taking in a deep breath…he released his past behind, no destiny should bind her death or him to her…if destiny binds him to death with her, then destiny **will** change.

End of Volume II


	22. Volume III: The Forgotten Lure :: Chapte...

Epoch Augmented

Volume III – The Forgotten Lure 

Chapter Twenty-One: The Uncontainable

By: Juki

It dawned on her; though her world had jumped to a steady halt, the universe in which she dwelled continued to progress. With the scattered sun proliferating nimbly across her room, she realized she must've slept away the whole morning – or perhaps even a whole season. It still eluded her; while her body lay imprisoned in dormancy, the rest of her known existence evolved without her. It made her feel unbearably small, seemingly helpless; for time hadn't so much as flinched at the exact moment her world sank into an impenetrable abyss of darkness.

She turned her eyes towards the door the moment the briefest sign of life, beyond this little cell, threatened her solitude. The degree of acuteness in her sensitivity surprised her as the nurse quietly entered the room. She could recall that she would've remained oblivious to the woman's presence until she could perceive her existence with her eyes. Perhaps the three months of rest had honed her senses and had carved a path for greater appreciation of life within her quiet little heart. "Good afternoon, Usagi." The nurse greeted her as she set the tray down on the moveable table at the foot of the bed.

"I'm glad you're awake." The nurse, with her nametag gleaming said, while she opened the window. "Good after…" Usagi slurred, but stopped, her tongue felt heavy, her voice shrouded with arduous huskiness: coarse and broken; she couldn't recognize her own voice. The nurse, Hirata Aiko, laughed in knowing expectation, "I see you're still trying to re-master your body, but it'll take a while." Usagi cocked her head curiously, "R-re-master?" Aiko smiled as she nodded, preparing the medication at the foot of her bed, "though your brain had been in a state of unconsciousness, your body still carried out its normal functions, meaning your body continued to grow while you were sleeping."

"Here you go." Aiko handed Usagi a glass of water and a small paper cup filled with an assortment of tablets. Usagi took them in one at a time, wincing at the dryness of her throat as each tablet narrowly tumbled down its tapered path. "D-date?" Usagi asked while Aiko placed the empty glass on her tray, "it's Thursday, November the 29th and also the beginning of your therapy." Aiko replied as she cleared the night table by the bed. "I'll come back and get you as soon as I've completed my round, you just sit here and relax."

"T-therapy?" Usagi wondered aloud when Aiko reached the door, "Just like I said before…to re-master your body functions." With that, she slid out of the room and disappeared. Usagi lifted her hands into the light and watched as particles of dust danced around her. It was true; it felt as if her entire body had been taken apart and reassembled with a more vividly refined material. She curled and uncurled her fingers, opened and unopened her hand. She noticed a placidity that never belonged to her before: swiftness thickly cloaked with unhurried grace.

Despite the newly found poise, she also realized that it now entailed more effort in moving, as if a millisecond delay had been wedged between her sensors and her will. She supposed it wasn't an entirely dreadful thing, at least now, she mused, that this would require her to be more thoughtful and calculated in everything. She lay her arm back down and concentrated on her toes; though she couldn't see them through the covers, she could see the soft tousle in the sheets made by her wiggling toes.

The sound of muffled soles and the swoosh of moving fabric caused her to look up again, she couldn't recall ever having been able to hear with such intensity before. It felt as if every detail: color, taste, sound, smell and texture, had been amplified a hundred times while she was sleeping. "Alright Usagi, are you ready?" Aiko asked as she walked in with a wheelchair. Usagi arched her brows curiously as Aiko aligned the chair by her bed, "Wheelchair!" Usagi breathed, somewhat indignantly. "Have you tried walking yet?" Aiko asked.

"Here, why don't you try to walk and see if you can?" Aiko suggested, wheeling the chair off to the side and then helped Usagi to the edge of her bed. She cringed the moment her foot touched the tiles, "cold…" she remarked. Placing her other foot strategically forward, she grabbed hold of Aiko with one hand while she put her weight onto the night table with the other. Slowly, she tried to pull herself up, but when her weight started to fall onto her feet, it began to tingle. At first, it was a subtle tingle on her feet until it intensified into numbed needles shooting up her leg.

Aiko read her expression and immediately pulled the wheelchair back. "It'll take a while, Usagi, don't worry about it!" She consoled while she helped Usagi into the chair. "Let's go to the cafeteria first, I believe you haven't eaten since last night." Usagi folded her hands on her lap as Aiko pushed her out of the room. It was strange watching the hospital gliding by, but she soon got used to it and stopped feeling awkward.

The cafeteria was filled with patients in varied hospital linens: some were gray, others blue and still more with pink. Usagi looked down to see what color she was wearing; she hadn't really paid attention before. "Here we are." Aiko breathed as she locked the wheels down with her foot, "I'll go fetch you some utensils." Usagi looked around and noticed a very familiar silhouette sitting by a man in a wheelchair. She wanted to call out her name but stopped herself; she figured the talking all around them would ultimately snuff out her voice anyhow.

His blindness had been the buffer that allowed them to bridge their conversation. Now that she knew he could see her, it appeared as if a barrier had just erected between them. He ate his sandwich in silence while she stared at his plate. She couldn't help but wonder if everything prior to this had been a disillusioned Utopia where both of their souls had found some means of solace – at least temporarily. She was his outlet while he was her crutch, but what are they now? "Where do you plan to stay?" She asked, folding her hands on the table.

He paused midway, his sandwich suspended in front of his mouth, "I haven't thought about it." He lied and quickly took another bite, unable to meet her eyes. He cursed while he chewed; he wasn't ready to have her materialize into reality. He tried to piece her face into his mind countless of times but he wasn't prepared to receive the concerted version of her. He now realized that everything in his mind had been dulled by time and nonchalance; he could easily scratch out a face or a color he didn't want to know, but now, he was no longer God.

"I've looked up some places where you could possibly stay, taken into account that you have an inexhaustible revenue." Saddened, she turned to her book bag and drew out several newspapers. He stole a glance while she wasn't looking and felt the knot in his throat seize up all the more, almost to the verge of suffocation. How can he disregard the fact that she is breathtaking? Since he could no longer filter out what he didn't want to know, all he could do was avoid it. He didn't want to be enslaved by fickle love: he didn't want to lose control.

_Is this the end_? Ami pondered as she reluctantly unfolded the ad column. He feigned interest while she described the pros and cons of the circled areas. It was as if they both knew; the moment he spread his wings to fly, there would be no earth to fall back on. "And this is also in Minato-Ku, it's right…" She began, "This is too complicated." He pushed the newspapers away, slid his plate onto his lap, unlocked his chair and wheeled away. She blinked, astonished at his reaction, didn't he want to leave? Wasn't this what he wanted? Freedom?

She snatched her book bag and followed him. She stood by him as he placed his plate into the bin and eventually took hold of the handlebars behind his wheelchair. "I'm sorry." She whispered, wheeling him towards the door. He exhaled as he suddenly leapt off the wheelchair, he didn't need to be pushed. "You never learn, do you?" He stammered, "Have you listened to anything I've said to you for the past two months?" She narrowed her eyes, wounded by his words, "Every word." She hissed through gritted teeth, locking her jaw so she wouldn't whimper beneath his unscrupulous conviction.

"This is so typical," he laughed ironically, "you pity me." Unashamed, he declared it matter-of-factly. Her knuckles flared white as her grip tightened around the handlebars, "That's right Sade, how observant of you to draw up such a blatant conclusion." Ami replied with equal satire. He nodded, "That's comforting." She stepped back from the wheelchair, "I pity the fool who prostrates for his vanity." With that, she walked away from him. "How hypocritical of you, Ami." He called out, demanding to be the one who had the last words, "Condemning _me_ as the narcissist."

"What's wrong?" Aiko asked when Usagi stopped eating. "N-nothing," she lied and nibbled at the crust on her sandwich. How could she dismiss what she had just heard? Who is this man who can set Ami's anger ablaze? Who is this scornful man who had the audacity to scrutinize an angel? "Not hungry." Usagi muttered and Aiko nodded, taking the plate away. Usagi looked over her shoulder, she wanted to see and memorize the face of the man who could commit such a sin.

He collapsed back onto his wheelchair once he lost sight of her. He cringed at the depth of her revelation, but refused to accept it. So what if he was a dignified man? Better that than a man without substance. He threw his feet back onto the footrest and started to wheel behind the hot trail she had left. _Where do you go from here?_ He locked his jaw at such a question, if he had a choice, he would choose to suspend his life within the two months that had passed. If he could, he would live only for her happiness and document every second of her life in loving memory.

He stopped when he felt the distinguished burn of tears in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away with his sleeve and turned the opposite direction at the crossroad where they had mutually excised their ties. It was for the better anyway, he mused, Ami deserved someone who could become undone and can reciprocate her kindness. A broken man such as himself is unworthy to breathe the same air as her, no less dwell in her presence eternally. Where would he go from here? He wondered as the weight of his choice dawned on him. He closed his eyes, tripping over her lingering fragrance; _exile_ he supposed as uncontainable hot tears finally shed.


	23. VIII : The Forgotten Lure :: Chapter 22

Epoch Augmented

Volume III - The Forgotten Lure

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Right Question

By: Juki

A noxious mix of misery and frustration churned within the dark waters of her heart. She could still feel the blaze of those hundred pairs of eyes drilling into her back as she turned and walked away. Those unforgiving stares of scrutiny were so insensitive to her truth, to her circumstance, to her reason. With the lethargic swish of the cafeteria doors closing behind, her squared shoulders withered to trembles. Ami fell against the wall for support as she buried her face in her hands. Never had she witnessed a pain such as this - the excruciatingly slow drowning of her heart. Thrashing desperately against its turbulent currents, yet powerless against its onslaught, she merely succumbed to her fate - falling into this deep sea of madness.

She held her breath at the sight of black, pointed shoes through the gaps in her fingers. Her eyes widened with surprise, which swiftly shifted into shame. _Not now_. Drawing a deep breath, Ami unmasked her face and arched her back against the wall. Meeting her mother's gaze with even indifference, she balled her exasperations and released it with a sigh. A stranger's silence stretched on between them; Ami wondered if they had finally run out of things to say. _What about the weather, **Dr** **Mizuno**?_ Ami thought, darkly.

There was such an undeniable resemblance the way Ami looked at her; the same portrait of bitterness painted by her husband. Her _ex_-husband. A wave of banished emotions rippled in the pit of her stomach - an icy splash of water in the cold. Removing her glasses, Mizuno Saeko distracted herself with the droning process of tucking them away in her coat pocket. "I'm here to discuss your upcoming evaluation for the position of understudy." Saeko spoke with practiced decorum, perfectly extracting herself from the messy cyclone of sentiments. Ami's stony expression never faltered, as she flicked her eyes up with muted disdain.

"I've briefly leafed through your preliminary assessment and I am displeased by your lack of involvement. As a potential understudy, you must acquire experience in every aspect of the medical field. I see here that you've been centralizing in the recovery section, the optometry wing and, apparently, the **cafeteria**." Saeko stated the last bit dryly, rashly, before she realized her err. "Furthermore, I've noticed a slight dip in your grades since you began your volunteering here. As you are aware, your GPA is strictly monitored and I was advised by the board to bring this to your attention. Although, it is not to the extent of endangering your position here or potentially as an understudy, it sheds a negative light against you. If you give them a reason to question your performance under stress, you might as well surrender your position for someone who is more capable."

A quiet squall stirred behind her calm, cerulean eyes. Ami averted her gaze momentarily, digesting the criticism. She knew it was true and she understood her mother's concerns, but the delivery was simply diabolical. Her mother had torn many interns and understudies apart, shred their dreams and hopes into neat, surgical excretions, and threw it back in their faces. The difference here is the most primal etiquette known as the human condition. Ami could draw the line between impartiality and excessive criticism; it seemed that her mother could not. From the destructive delivery of that criticism, Ami could not help but wonder if her mother had ever considered her as her own daughter after all.

"Additionally, the last report you submitted to the board perfectly highlighted your lacklustre argument. Perhaps you should consider sourcing works _not_ drawn from your textbook. There are two hundred and seventy-four candidates competing for ten positions as understudy, until your work puts a face to your name, it doesn't look favourable." Saeko pressed on, arms akimbo. Her relentless eloquence betrayed the trepidation churning inside. She wasn't quite certain what possessed her to react thus. Could it be that wretched resemblance in her daughter's eyes? The same scornful glare, reducing her to naught but ruins - the one look that shattered her faith at a glance.

"Are you finished?" Ami asked, disinterestedly.

Saeko narrowed her eyes, "pardon me?"

Ami erected herself from the wall and stepped forward. "I wouldn't want you to waste another second on yet another faceless failure."

Saeko blinked, taken aback by her daughter's sudden gall. "I believe you should take more responsibility in minding your attitude, Ami."

"I'll take that under consideration after I figure out how to use the library. Apparently, McArthur's Guide to Anatomy is part of my textbook collection. I guess that goes the same with Harvard University's Medical Journal? Would you mind sparing a few worthwhile sources to a hopeless and misguided student?" Ami replied, strangely cool and swathed in sarcasm.

"Yes, you cited McArthur and Harvard in your first two reports, but mind you, I was addressing your _last_ one." Saeko stated flatly, evenly composed. "My point is that you should make an effort to maintain a consistent performance."

Ami tilted her head and simply stared at her mother incredulously. Then with an unexpected laugh, Ami lashed out. "Have I ever done anything _right_?"

Saeko pursed her lips as a deep river of anguish streamed through the worry lines on her forehead - etched by years of tacit dejection. She reached out, but recoiled as her extended fingers rolled into a fist. Somehow her original intention had deteriorated, polluted by sediments of vanity. All she wished for was to help Ami fulfil her destiny, to carve out a path for her to follow. She intended to raise the bar for something more - to inspire a greater dream. Saeko slumped her shoulders in defeat as a merciless wave of sorrow came crashing down. _Perhaps...**I** was the one...who failed_...

Heartlessly blind towards the signs of her mother's unravelling, Ami lashed out once more, directed by the circular course of her brimming emotions. "Have I _ever_ made you proud?" Silence ensued - a strained tranquility before the birth of a violent storm. Tension churned like a watermill, drawing from the momentum of their overflowing emotions. Several drops short of teetering the fickle equilibrium of their reason, Saeko shattered their stalemate and began to retreat.

"Please, turn away! It's not the first time and I doubt it'll be your last!" Ami spat out, venomously. Saeko winced, as those words crept under her skin like a parasite. Suspended in mid step, Saeko closed her eyes while a solitary tear broke free and trickled down her face. Next, the sound of her daughter's receding footsteps marked the severance of their ties; the one bridge that linked their worlds together finally collapsed. Opening her eyes, Saeko shivered. With the revived image of her husband spewing out the same phrase before he ran into another woman's arms, she sighed at the irony. Unable to look back, unable to face the same excruciating agony of breaking what's left of her heart, Saeko kept on walking.

Turning the corner, Ami broke down. Finding herself at the mercy of the vast ocean of forgiveness in Usagi's eyes, she unwound. Usagi had been standing there all along, watching with omniscient objectivity. With a smile, Usagi defused the wintry armour around Ami's soul. As the last stratum of ice thawed over Ami's heart, she fell wholeheartedly into Usagi's arms. Time elapsed like evaporating water, slipping by with unnoticeable ease. Relishing the union of two forlorn spirits, Usagi closed her eyes, sending her love in the form of a prayer.

An indescribable _serenity_ filled Ami's soul, emitting a merciful detachment which stifled her sorrow. Like a shot of novocaine, a euphoric dream of numbness ebbed across her body. Slowly, the perplexing tapestry of emotions loosened; in its place were uncomplicated, singular threads of fleeting sensations. Remnants of her bitterness dissolved in the forgetful whirlpool of time. Finally, purified, Ami raised her head and regained faith again.

Meeting Usagi's eyes once more, Ami could detect a curious light of unabashed wisdom. It was not the first time she had noticed them, but never were they of such intensity. _She has grown_. Ami marvelled in quiet delight. Usagi continued to stroke Ami's back, remembering somewhere in her obsolete past that her mother had done the same. With a muted sigh, Ami found the strength to stand. They stood, arms outstretched and hands rested on each other's shoulders. There, they met again, as if for the very first time.

Ami smiled, unable to contain her appreciation. The changes in Usagi are so remarkable, yet elusive all at once. Take the edge of wisdom in her eyes, for instance - had it always been there? What about this new enchanting air of timid elegance and smooth refinement? All of these new qualities were humbly tucked away behind the placid facade of her welcoming smile. From the gentle frame of her platinum tress, Ami could truly envision the prophesy. For standing before her was no longer _just_ the marvellous Tsukino Usagi, or the dual identity of that martyr heroine. Certainly, this is the emergence of someone new: this must be the making of Neo Queen Serenity.

With a reassuring squeeze, Usagi lifted Ami free from her reverie. "There is something you need to know."

Ami nodded her head, listening.

"She cares deeply for you; she thinks of you constantly. She overheard your conversation in the cafeteria. Such an incredulous expression spread over her face! I can't quite pinpoint it exactly but I think it was a look of genuine concern. I think she meant to remind you of more important things in your life, other than a man who doesn't know the true value of your...companionship." Usagi worded it carefully, avoiding names, avoiding labels.

"I understand what you're trying to do," Ami sighed, "and I'm grateful..."

"Ami, I'm just trying to tell you the truth..." Usagi blurted, earnestly.

"There are a lot of things between us that you aren't aware of."

"I know, but despite all of that, all those factors, Ami. She _is_ your mother."

A grim shadow glazed over her eyes at those words. Those naked words again - tags behind a stranger. "It stopped feeling that way a long time ago."

"What stopped?" Usagi pressed.

"We're as dysfunctional as they come," Ami murmured hesitantly. "She doesn't quite fit the mother stereotype."

"I don't get what you mean by that. If you're saying that she doesn't stay at home, or cook, or clean..."

"It's not so much _staying_ home Usagi, it's more like _coming_ home at all. When I look back on my childhood, there's always an empty space where she was _supposed_ to be." Ami recounted as flashes of her joyless birthdays, and vacant seats at the dinner table seeped into her mind.

"She was at the hospital, saving lives..." Usagi uttered softly.

"What about _our_ lives? What about _us_?" Ami blurted, the unresolved demon of her past reawakening with a startling roar.

"She's a doctor, Ami. It's her duty to be here, to sacrifice aspects of her own life in order to save others." Usagi reasoned while stroking Ami's arm.

"This wasn't for her to sacrifice. We're not mere objects she can pick up and put down on a whim!" Ami seethed. "Wait...I'm sorry..." Ami lowered her eyes, apologetically. "I shouldn't be taking this out on you."

"I'm here for you, Ami. Don't be sorry."

"You know...I really did admire her..." Ami whispered, her voice wafting with nostalgia. "I used to want to be like her..."

"Used to?" Usagi furrowed her brows.

"At times, I wonder why I'm even here. Am I here for the sake of impressing her or do I sincerely give a damn." Ami confessed, followed by a faint, bitter chuckle.

"Please don't doubt yourself! If it matters at all, I can't imagine you _anywhere_ else! This is where you belong. For as long as I can remember, you've dedicated every facet of your life in chasing this dream. You're so close, Ami. _So close_." Usagi urged.

Ami furrowed her brows, as if considering the weight of her words. "Is this my dream...or hers?"

Usagi cringed, speechless.

"Do I really want to end up like her? Do I _really_ want to spend my life turning my back on those I love? Saving people...that sounds so selfless, doesn't it? A martyr for humanity! But I've played that role before. It's just like sinking sand. Once you step into it, there's no escape from it. Doesn't it ever cross your mind, Usagi? The paths of these selfless heroes are arduous and lonely. What do we gain from it? At the end of the day, who's going to save **me**?" Ami asked in a heated frenzy. "Oh God..." Ami dropped her gaze and sighed, "I'm so selfish..."

Usagi opened her mouth, ready to cast a wide net of perfunctory responses. What could she honestly say? What were the right answers to those questions? Suddenly, Usagi realized the weight of the problem was not finding the _right_ answer, but one she could live with. "It's called being human..." Usagi finally replied, staring off into the distance.

"Being human..." Ami echoed, those words sounded so forgiving. "Do you ever wonder...?"

Usagi blinked, snapped abruptly from her trance. "I-I do."

"Will there ever be a right answer?"

"The right answer..." Usagi felt her stomach drop as if someone had dropped an anchor. "I don't know, Ami. All I know is that the right thing to do isn't always the easiest."

"We can't do what's right all the time. How do you know when it's right anyway?" Ami grimaced.

"You don't...at least not always. I guess the bottom line is if you can live with yourself afterwards. So...maybe it is your own conscience that differentiates between right and wrong." _It sounded so much more convincing in my head_, Usagi thought.

"I'm so confused." Ami whispered, almost afraid of hearing it herself. "This sounds all so abstract to me."

"It makes little sense to me either." Usagi confessed, "but the comforting thing is to know that we're not alone in this struggle. We have friends, family...we have love to carry us through."

"Love..." That word sounded so foreign to her. "It's been so long...jog my memory?"

"We've been through so much..." Usagi recounted, "we've conquered the unimaginable, but the most unforgettable is the first time..."

"It's always the first time..." Ami concurred with a bleak smile. "We were young then...our hearts were so fresh and _new_. Untainted from..._life_. Unseasoned by the salts of living."

"I wondered then how I could ever get through it...how I could ever survive. I would spend nights lying awake, thinking about how it would all go down. Then I realized, it didn't matter how hard I thought about it. It always came down to how much I was willing to sacrifice. Love pulled me through; it preserved my determination to do the right thing." Her heart palpitated at the remembrance of those vivid memories.

"Love?" Ami turned her eyes up to the ceiling, heaven-bound.

"Love." Usagi affirmed, "Your mother made a choice...a very hard one. She chose to extend her love to strangers, to others she may never meet again. Although she's extended her love, she never took it away from you. I believe your heart can never run out of space...it has infinite opportunities..."

"She must have gone through some hassle to get a hold of that preliminary assessment..." Ami remarked, feeling suddenly light headed - like a great burden had been lifted. "Not to mention, reading through those twenty page reports."

"She speaks of you with such pride," Usagi rested her hand on Ami's shoulder, "I don't think you could _ever_ commit _wrong_ in her eyes..."

A jolting realization rippled across her mind, as if someone had just flicked the light on in a very dark room. Briefly blinded by the brilliant glare and mildly embarrassed by the exposure, Ami perched her head against Usagi's shoulder. _It's too easy to lose sight of things that matter_. Ami thought. Furthermore, it was easy to point her finger, to pass the blame. The most amazing thing anyone can do is humbly walk away from a fight. Ami closed her eyes, in silent gratitude. The world was not the bleak tunnel she thought it was; there is light after all - she had been asking the wrong questions all along.


	24. VIII : The Forgotten Lure :: Chapter 23

Epoch Augmented

**Volume III - The Forgotten Lure**

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Muse

By: Juki

The scent of withering roses dotted the air with an intriguing presence of death - a vulgar sweetness that dampened her senses like six feet of gravel. Her fingertips traced the sluggish pace of pending demise in the form of ebbing discolouration across the wilting flower. Blackened and frayed petals paved her night table like gravestones; their lifeless cadavers brittle against the destructive surge of time. Despite her meticulous vigilance, not a single part of the rose escaped the touch of decay.

Sorrow is a parasite which thrived on doubt; there is something strangely cyclic and infectious about it. This vile infection takes the heart hostage; it slowly seeps into the core, shedding gradual doses of poison along the way. _Is there not a cure for sorrow_? Usagi mused with grey pensiveness. An unshakable heaviness plagued her since she had last spoken to Ami. It seemed that their small talk carried more than an exchange of onus secrets. Usagi had probably been inflicted by that cancerous parasite through the oral transfusion of their minds.

With a wistful smile, Usagi turned her eyes toward the pillars of moonlight scattered across her room. _She's happy now...that's all that matters_. That notion brought about a bittersweet comfort; Usagi would gladly bear her cross if it rekindled the joy back in her smile. Ami's revelation was dishearteningly true: there was nothing glorious behind heroism, only sacrifice and shame. A stream of moonlight fell upon her night table like a thick, delirious dream - feathering the fringes of the blackening rose with silvery wings. With a reticent quiver, the rose shed yet another petal, which fluttered down onto the opened envelope tucked underneath the vase.

In a hesitant impasse, Usagi's hand suspended in reaches of the envelope. A shrill contrast of fear and yearning pulsed densely through her veins, causing her hand to tremble. Another petal sauntered down and fell to a rest on her knuckle - a sickening tribute to her uncertainty. With feverish impulse, her fingers snapped forward and enclosed around the envelope. The flap of the covering, wrinkled with usage, flared open with brazen enticement. The unfolded letter exuded an eerie fluorescence under the pale illumination of the moon. Smoothing the paper out against her lap, she hoisted the flattened letter up into the light and stared into its vast, white emptiness.

An influx of distinct peppery cologne, permeating from the opened letter, condensed the sombre tone of roses in the air. There was something peculiar about this unique arrangement of rich, dark woods paired with waning beauty. It immediately invoked the impression of a symphony with resonant bass accompanied by a blare of cacophonic notes strung through a violin. Its provocative allure soothed and agitated her all at once; the clashing aromas conjured a brash awareness of the forsaken abyss in her heart. _Strange_, she thought - how trivial shifts in the air could imprint such a vivid effect on her.

Intoxicated by a rush of emotions evoked by that lingering mirage, the peripheries of reality blurred and eluded her altogether. Usagi jolted in full alarm when a brilliant flash of light chased away her fleeting reverie. Hirata Aiko excused herself with a curt bow, equally startled with Usagi's jerky reaction. Usagi flushed with embarrassment as she quickly tucked the blank letter back into the envelope. Aiko smiled and placed her tray down on the foot table of the bed; she picked out a tiny white paper cup with an assortment of colourful pills for Usagi.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted," Aiko said, handing the paper cup to Usagi followed by a tall glass of water.

"I was just looking at the letter..." Usagi explained with a mouthful of vitamins tumbling around on her tongue.

"In the dark?"

Usagi swallowed the pills, downed the glass of water and handed the empty glass back to Aiko. "I'm a bit confused myself..." Usagi began, sliding her feet into her slippers. "Just a week ago...I received this blank letter along with a rose." Usagi said, nodding her head in the direction of the night table.

Aiko rearranged her tray, "Blank letter? Do you know who sent it?"

Usagi's lips thinned at the question; it was something she had known all along but never bothered to acknowledge. It was, after all, his signature mark - blood red roses suspended in mid blossom. "I think it was my boyfriend..."

"I see." Aiko picked up her tray, "how would you like to join me in my round?"

Usagi looked up, mildly surprised.

"Oh, well I figured you could use some exercise and practice." Aiko blurted, almost defensively.

"I could use some practice." Usagi agreed, rising to her feet.

"Besides...it's a gruelling job...I thought I could use some company." Aiko admitted with a strange aloofness in her voice. "So, how is your walking these days?"

It had been a while since Aiko had accompanied Usagi to physiotherapy; in fact, Usagi had not seen much of Aiko lately, besides running into her in the cafeteria once in a while. "I think I'm almost fully recovered."

"That's good to hear. It's always nice to know that at least some people are getting better." Aiko muttered, monotone.

"Well, isn't that always the case?" Usagi uttered, her words drenched in childish denial. Quickening her steps, she caught up to Aiko. "I can't imagine how anyone could get _worse_?"

"But there are." Aiko kept her gaze forward at the unwinding corridor ahead - the same, dark, archaic path countless wandering souls have treaded in uncertainty. "There are some unfortunate ones. People with their days numbered."

Usagi shuddered at the thought, at the vile taste of mortal fragility.

"Well, here we are." Aiko sighed and paused in front of a door marked 209. With a soft tap, Aiko opened the door and slid into the murky darkness of the room.

Usagi hesitated and remained outside. Unsure of her invitation, Usagi supposed it would be safer to stand guard here. She could hear Aiko's muffled voice through the dense strata of gloom seeping out of the gaps in the door. Petty anxiety gripped Usagi's heart: boorish concepts of airborne contagion dreamed up by fear. It was an instinctive human precaution - an intrinsic withdrawal of the body before the mind. It's hard to radiate grace in the face of sickness, for pity is so often mistaken for humanity. Aiko was painstakingly aware of the ambiguity surrounding the tender subject of mortality; it was better not to visit that vulgar reality.

The tiny paper cups on Aiko's tray began to wane, with one cup remaining; Aiko paused in mid step and turned to Usagi. _Pain_. The unmistakable look of pain gripped Aiko's delicate features; her sapphire eyes clouded over with inexpressible memoirs. "Could you come in? This time?" It wasn't a question, but a desperate plea - the last mindless thrash before drowning. All at once, Usagi felt ashamed and overtly human. She could only nod, unable to speak, unable to untangle the knot suspended in the back of her throat. Words she had spun out to Ami rebuked and underlined her own hypocrisy: _so long as you can live with yourself_... Usagi grimaced at her self-assessment; the answer was a resounding _no_. It was easier said than done. _It's so easy to love someone you know_... She realized, and that thought persisted, blossoming into the callous truth that love for a stranger required something greater than herself.

They strode in silence, minds entangled in a viscous web of clumsy insight; all that resided in Usagi's head was the pestilent prick of guilt. Where was that natural and effortless quality of compassion she once possessed? She nearly ran into Aiko, so consumed with remorse - fully aware of her own self-indulgence. Usagi searched for that window of pain in Aiko, which had swung open so abruptly a few moments before. To her chagrin, they were sealed shut now with an unexpected onslaught of indifference. A stony indolence cleaved over Aiko's face, voiding all traces of emotions.

"Her name is Ayakashi Satoko," Aiko announced, lifting the tiny cup in one hand while she set her tray down on the ground with the other.

"Ayakashi..." Usagi scrunched her nose at the familiarity of that surname, as it rolled off the tip of her tongue.

"She's been diagnosed with leukemia. There aren't any matching donors and she's in critical condition" Aiko recited, as if she had said this a thousand times. "There's nothing anyone can do for her now...save ease as much of her pain as possible. These are sedatives, but its effect is starting to wane because her body's building a resistance. Just thought you'd like some background information before we go in. Chances are, she's not even awake...she scarcely is nowadays." Aiko's tone drifted with bitter resentment.

Usagi nodded once more; she didn't want to spew out anymore perfunctory responses. Aiko's hand trembled as she gripped the knob, but with Usagi behind her, she managed to push herself in. A waft of stale melancholy devoured them both as they inched inward. As if a pair of hands had pierced through her chest and wrapped around her heart, Usagi's hands sailed up reflexively over her breast. All traces of joy escaped through the breath in her lungs, trickled out of her lips and dispersed into oblivion. Aiko marched over to the window where she tore open the curtains to let the moon in.

The dark figure in the bed stirred with a soft, raspy groan. The lamenting sight before her eyes rekindled a sense of meekness within - a reproachful awakening of her conscience. A grave reality which transcended the limited circle of her life lay stark and bare before her, unmasked by the moon's indifferent scrutiny. The world seemed like such a cruel, unforgiving place. Feeling impeccably humbled, Usagi counted her blessings and felt the horizon of her heart unfasten. Usagi slowly approached Satoko's bed with her mind filled with a detached sense of clarity. It wasn't up until that very moment did the scale of her perspective amplified, and in turn, penetrates through the dormant winter of her soul.

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Under the deceptive guise of the moon, an illusion flourished before his eyes and seized his thoughts. _Usagi_. For a split second, Yashinobe Izumi became Tsukino Usagi. Within that fragile frame of time, Izumi's features blurred out of focus and reappeared as an angelic shell of Usagi's face - a close resemblance save for the lack of lustre in her eyes. In that moment, Mamoru's heart clenched with unbearable misery as he clambered to cope with the sudden emptiness within. A subdued piquant taste of irony settled in the back of his throat; there was something oddly suicidal about this self-induced trauma.

Izumi lowered her eyes and blushed under Mamoru's unwavering stare. She admired his chiselled features from the corner of her eye while she reviewed her lab notes. Finding fault in a sudden stray strand of her hair, Izumi slowly tucked the piece behind her ear and angled her face slightly away from him. Izumi shivered at the bluntness of his unravelling gaze, those icy seas shrouded in stormy mystery. She could feel the sudden increase of her heart rate through the insistent pulse of her veins against the tender underside of her wrist. Every little detail became unsettling - yet another manner to obsess over for this avid perfectionist.

Abruptly aware of his vacant stare, Mamoru quickly averted his gaze out the window. "Sorry."

"I-I didn't even notice." Izumi lied, turning the page in her notebook with calculated precision.

"I'm just...too distracted right now." Mamoru muttered half-heartedly and tossed his notes carelessly on the coffee table.

Izumi quickly reached for her mug and concealed her smile behind it. "Distracted? You? Where did you displace that relentless determination of yours?" She remarked before taking a sip of her cold, black coffee.

"I don't remember if I thanked you for those notes you took for me on Thursday...but in any case, thanks again." Mamoru said as he leaned forward, perched his elbows on his lap and folded his hands out in front.

Izumi smiled, "You did thank me...but if you still feel indebted to me...you could always treat me to coffee."

"Those notes saved me from embarrassment today in lab, that's for sure. There's no measurable gratitude for that." Mamoru sighed.

"You seem a bit dispirited these days...if you don't mind me asking, is everything okay?" Izumi reached forward, rested her hand on top of his and squeezed.

"Just...not getting my hours of sleep...that's all." Mamoru glanced over his shoulder at the black umbrella perched against the balcony. The night terrors had not stopped, but only intensified.

"Then maybe we should call it a night." Izumi began to gather up her books. "It's almost 2AM anyway..."

"2AM?" Mamoru sat up keenly, "I-I lost track of time..."

Izumi chuckled, "Me too...listen, I'm free tomorrow night if you want to thank me with more coffee and continue working on our lab..."

"Tomorrow night sounds great. Here, let me give you a lift home...it's too late for you to walk." Mamoru grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

Izumi bit her lip as she packed her bag; the slightest inkling of hope dripped in the back of her mind - the possibility that Mamoru had finally grown fond of her. "Then I accept your offer, oh chivalrous one!"

Enraptured by the wind in her hair, the relentless pounding of her heart and the subtle waft of his cologne, Izumi closed her eyes and tightened her grasp around Mamoru's waist. She had been fatally attracted to him since the first day they met in their joined laboratories; she was determined then to win his heart, and it seemed all of her efforts had not been wasted. He had always kept his distance whether in his limited availability or his air of aloofness...until now, until tonight. He had called her out tonight to study, but it looked as if he didn't achieve much of that due to his _distraction_. Lastly, Izumi reasoned, he had never offered to drive her home before, no matter how shamelessly she had hinted at it...until tonight.

For a fleeting moment, the aching void in his soul ebbed. It felt as if they were racing against the currents of time, fleeing back to simpler times untainted by fear. It felt like _home_. Home was such a foreign term to Mamoru, a word that alluded to a darkened room. He had never experienced the nurturing intimacy of a real family or the rooting sense of belonging that came hand-in-hand with it. Yet, he recognized the unforgettable ache in his heart every time Usagi gazed into his eyes; it was not so much an ache but a yearning - a heart bursting with sentiment. Here, riding in the steadfast clutches of the night with Izumi, he could imagine that it was Usagi instead. He realized his selfish gestures but did little to suppress it; a desperate man resorts to all kinds of means for refuge.

They came to a rolling stop in front of a tiny flat in the outskirts of Ebisu. Izumi attached her helmet back onto the tail of the motorcycle and reluctantly dismounted. She bowed and thanked him for the ride and reminded him about tomorrow night. Mamoru nodded his head absentmindedly; he waited until Izumi disappeared behind the decorative hedges of dogwood lining the front entrance before he shot into the darkness like a rapid bullet. With the wind screaming next to his ear, deafening the wretched crack of his heart breaking, Mamoru found temporary reprieve from the sound of his own thoughts. There was something sickly merciful about the numbing December air; the sharp twinge of frostbite against his body made the heartache seem almost bearable.

With the open expressway lying before him, the prospect of endless possibilities taunted him - a false sense of invincibility brought on by an unobstructed road. Mamoru sped up, as if slowing down meant his fears might catch up with him. A perplexing dilemma surged in the chaotic canvas of his mind: one part of him longed to open Pandora's Box in pursuit of solace, while the other wanted nothing more than to banish the memory. Mamoru shook his head and accelerated, unwilling to address the problem as if denying its existence would absolve him of its consequences.

Off in the distance, the low hum of an approaching motor caught his attention; his sacred solitude was suddenly being threatened by the growing presence of that car. Longing nothing more than to shed its existence, Mamoru accelerated. The hum of the car persisted, gaining momentous audacity as it closed the distance between them. Mamoru glanced over his shoulder before racing a few inches ahead to merge lanes. The sleek, ebon Audi remained relentless, nearly kissing the rounded fringes of his motorcycle's exhaust.

Smelling a losing battle, Mamoru finally yielded and shifted to the outer lane. Peering through the window, he did a double take and nearly lost control of his bike. As if he had been struck by a sleet of ice, Mamoru's head felt light. Unable to believe his eyes, he sped up until he reached the driver's side window once more. The driver glanced at Mamoru quickly, acknowledging his presence with detached interest. For a fraction of a second, they locked eyes - muted heliotrope with inquisitive cobalt.

_That man_. Flashes of the umbrella man flooded his mind; the resemblance was too great to be of coincidence. In elevated speed, Mamoru risked loosing control over his steering should he pressed to go faster. Knowing his limitations, he cursed under his breath and watched as the elegant vehicle weaved through three lanes and exited through the Minato-Ku intersection. Gradually lowering his speed, he found himself trailing the car as if catching up with it could mean salvation. By the time he reached the inner district, the car was nowhere in sight. Parked by the side of a road, Mamoru rested as his mind churned in fervent motion. He had not mistaken, the driver of that car had been the very same man who plagued his dreams. Considering the implications of that encounter, Mamoru took in his surroundings to find himself situated outside the junction by _her_ home. Knowing a long day stretched ahead, Mamoru relented and turned homebound, but not before casting a longing glance at the familiar blue shingles of her rooftop.


End file.
