Fic: Endless Waltz
Dec. 11th, 2007 11:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starrikaTitle: Endless Waltz
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starrika
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 4/?
Summary: It's the 30th century and Crystal Tokyo never arrived. Now Hotaru must awaken the reincarnations of the senshi once more and convince them that they have a greater destiny. [Eventual Senshi/Shintennou]
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
When Hotaru finished relating the history of the Moon Kingdom and the last rise and fall of Serenity, Mishka and Lita were both sporting dazed looks on their faces. It was quite a bit of history to present, Hotaru realized.
“I have a question,” Mishka said, looking more suspicious than confused. It was hard to reconcile her with the bubbly, blonde Aino Minako. Mishka Pavlova more serious, less trusting. Although it was always possible she was different around her friends, Hotaru realized.
Hotaru stopped musing and nodded. “Yes?”
“You said we would remember our past lives. Why don’t we? How do we know you aren’t trying to trick us?”
Lita was nodding emphatically, the cookie in her hands turning to dust. Hotaru paused, unsure.
“I don’t know. Setsuna, Sailor Pluto, believes that once you transform, you will regain your past memories. To be frank, you’re the first women I’ve contacted,” Hotaru admitted. “And…you’ve changed greatly. I don’t know what will happen when you henshin. Transform,” she clarified.
Mishka still looked suspicious, but Lita appeared thoughtful. “We’re different? How?” she asked. Hotaru had only related a basic story of their previous life in Tokyo, preferring to stick to facts.
It was Hotaru’s turn to crumble a cookie without eating it. “Oh. Well, you loved to cook, Lita, although I know that hasn’t changed,” she said, referring to the brunnette’s occupation as a pastry chef. “You were a bit boy-crazy, always comparing boys you dated to the previous. Not quite as boy-crazy as Minako,” she added with a small smile, looking to Mishka. “Minako was always cheerful. You loved to sing. You wanted to be famous.”
“That doesn’t sound so different,” Mishka admitted, the ghost of a smile around her lips. She had been serious the entire afternoon.
“Yes, and no,” Hotaru said. “There are similarities, of course. You look…remarkably similar.”
“Do you have any pictures?” Lita asked, leaning forward.
Hotaru moved to her bag that was sitting on the opposite side of the room, preferring a tangible copy over the files on her laptop. “I have pictures of all of you,” she said softly, passing the pink volume covered in bunnies to the two girls.
She spent the next few minutes narrating pictures for the girls, telling them about high school activities and the different senshi.
“And…are they different, too?” Mishka asked, pausing to look at a picture of Usagi, fingers brushing lightly over the odangoes.
“Yes, some more than others,” Hotaru admitted. “Ami still lives in Japan, but the rest of you are scattered. You’ve been brought up in different cultures, with different lives. Usagi, her name is Moon, now, funny enough,” Hotaru said with a smile. “She is the same. Somehow, she is always the same.”
Hotaru paused for a moment after her soft pronouncement to continue. “Ami and Rei are…very different,” she said. “They aren’t ready yet.”
“And what makes us ready?” Lita countered.
Hotaru brushed the crumbs clinging to her fingers on her jeans. “Rei, her name is Rowan, she had a child four months ago. Ami’s father died in a car accident three weeks ago. We think it unwise to awaken Moon until she has her senshi. And I do not know where Mamoru resides. Setsuna won’t tell me,” she added, her voice quiet.
“So, what are we supposed to do? Drop everything to follow you and protect some woman we don’t even know?” Mishka asked, her voice hard. “I have a life.”
Lita was nodding once again, although she seemed calmer than the blonde, Hotaru noted.
“No, I wouldn’t ask that of you. It isn’t my place,” she replied. “However, with the rise in youma, I ask you take a henshin pen. To be safe. I will show you how to use them.”
Setsuna said they were more similar than she thought, and Hotaru was betting on it. She wouldn’t ask them to defend the city. She would give them the tools and hope that their natures would bear out. The Minako and Makoto she knew would never sit idly by when people were in danger.
They’d discuss moving once they were used to the idea of senshi. Once they regained their memories.
Mishka’s face was still hard, but Lita had her hand out. “I want to learn,” she said earnestly, looking at Mishka with imploring eyes.
Hotaru didn’t know the history between the two, but after a moment, Mishka held out her hand as well. “I don’t know why I believe you,” she said quietly. “But I’ll do it.”
***
The next morning found them at an empty warehouse, courtesy of Setsuna, who had no problem making savvy investments, even if she wouldn’t tell Hotaru the future. But debating the ethics of that sticky situation was something Hotaru had long given up on.
Instead, she surveyed the space Setsuna had purchased, pulling out her pen from subspace absentmindedly. Lita and Mishka were behind her, the two looking as if they weren’t sure what they had gotten themselves into, although Hotaru hoped the wide-eyed distrust would disappear soon.
They didn’t have time to reforge a millennia of bonding, no matter what Setsuna said.
Lita and Mishka both fumbled, still trying to extricate the pens from their subspace pockets, and Hotaru sighed. With any hope, the return of their memories would help. She had no desire to hold their hands.
They removed the pens, and Hotaru explained in detailed the henshin phrases and process. It was hard to describe, and she was glad she had thought about the explanation the night before. Otherwise, she probably would have mumbled something about a rush of power, and they would be looking at her as if she was even crazier than they thought.
She henshined quietly, comforting glaive in hand, as they looked at her expectantly, waiting for her instruction.
“Go ahead,” Hotaru said. She was not a leader. She was not a teacher. She wasn’t good at this, and all she wanted was her friends, her comrades. Her senshi.
Now that they were in front of her, she was impatient.
Both girls spoke the henshin phrases quietly, and it looked as if Mishka was steeling herself for the whole situation to be a dream. Lita, Hotaru noted curiously, looked as if she wanted to believe. Lita was also the one to sink to her knees, crying, as soon as her transformation completed, entirely overwhelmed by what Hotaru hoped were memories.
Mishka, she noticed, stood straighter, chin up, even though it looked like there were unshed tears in her eyes. “You were right,” she whispered. “I do remember.”
Lita had risen, throwing her arms around Hotaru, squeezing tight. “Oh, Hotaru. You were right.”
And if she pretended they weren’t in a warehouse, in New York City and not Tokyo, Hotaru almost felt happy. Right now, though, her stomach was roiling. They remembered, but they weren’t the same. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Mishka had unfurled Sailor Venus’ chain and was playing with it absently, and as soon as Lita noticed, the brunette had moved towards her, reaching out a curious hand to touch.
“It’s odd,” she said. “I remember, but it’s like the memory is foggy. Like a memory from your childhood. I remember this, but I have no recollection how it feels.”
Mishka furled the chain and placed it back into her subspace pocket, still fumbling slightly. “I know what to say, what to do. I don’t know if my body will,” she agreed, still the serious woman Hotaru had met, rather than the bubbly Aino Minako.
And so Hotaru showed them how to do their first attack, and when Mishka whipped the Love-Me Chain around her waist for the first time with a smile, she felt relieved. Perhaps the happy girl she remembered was still a part of her.
She went through all of their possible attacks, explaining their functions, strengths, and weaknesses, hoping that Mishka and Lita were focused. The youma were weak now, but Hotaru knew they could run into a stronger one at any time.
She had the scars to prove it.
She gave them disguise pens and compacts, and Mishka’s grin at becoming an exact replica of a famous movie star helped dispel more of her unease. Mishka would want to protect the princess, once she met her. She hoped.
They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the city, trying to get to know each other in a normal way, pretending Hotaru hadn’t researched the women already. And so Lita told her about the bakery where she worked, and how she had been adopted by Mishka’s family when her parents died. And then Mishka told her how her parents had emigrated, when they were ten, to New York City, and how she started dancing not long after that. They spoke of their neighbor, Jason, and the white cat they’d adopted from the shelter, and the apartment they shared on the other side of town.
And Hotaru felt, almost, as if her friends had returned.
That evening, they hunted youma, and Hotaru was relieved to see their skills return in fits and starts. They were nowhere near the skill level of the senshi at their demise, but they could demolish a youma quick enough. Lita even seemed to enjoy it, although Mishka was tense and serious the entire night.
When she got on a transporter for Tokyo, Hotaru let out a sigh of relief as that famous whoosh of transporting filled her ears. Lita and Mishka would be all right.
They would all be all right.
Author:
starrikaRating: PG-13
Chapter: 4/?
Summary: It's the 30th century and Crystal Tokyo never arrived. Now Hotaru must awaken the reincarnations of the senshi once more and convince them that they have a greater destiny. [Eventual Senshi/Shintennou]
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
When Hotaru finished relating the history of the Moon Kingdom and the last rise and fall of Serenity, Mishka and Lita were both sporting dazed looks on their faces. It was quite a bit of history to present, Hotaru realized.
“I have a question,” Mishka said, looking more suspicious than confused. It was hard to reconcile her with the bubbly, blonde Aino Minako. Mishka Pavlova more serious, less trusting. Although it was always possible she was different around her friends, Hotaru realized.
Hotaru stopped musing and nodded. “Yes?”
“You said we would remember our past lives. Why don’t we? How do we know you aren’t trying to trick us?”
Lita was nodding emphatically, the cookie in her hands turning to dust. Hotaru paused, unsure.
“I don’t know. Setsuna, Sailor Pluto, believes that once you transform, you will regain your past memories. To be frank, you’re the first women I’ve contacted,” Hotaru admitted. “And…you’ve changed greatly. I don’t know what will happen when you henshin. Transform,” she clarified.
Mishka still looked suspicious, but Lita appeared thoughtful. “We’re different? How?” she asked. Hotaru had only related a basic story of their previous life in Tokyo, preferring to stick to facts.
It was Hotaru’s turn to crumble a cookie without eating it. “Oh. Well, you loved to cook, Lita, although I know that hasn’t changed,” she said, referring to the brunnette’s occupation as a pastry chef. “You were a bit boy-crazy, always comparing boys you dated to the previous. Not quite as boy-crazy as Minako,” she added with a small smile, looking to Mishka. “Minako was always cheerful. You loved to sing. You wanted to be famous.”
“That doesn’t sound so different,” Mishka admitted, the ghost of a smile around her lips. She had been serious the entire afternoon.
“Yes, and no,” Hotaru said. “There are similarities, of course. You look…remarkably similar.”
“Do you have any pictures?” Lita asked, leaning forward.
Hotaru moved to her bag that was sitting on the opposite side of the room, preferring a tangible copy over the files on her laptop. “I have pictures of all of you,” she said softly, passing the pink volume covered in bunnies to the two girls.
She spent the next few minutes narrating pictures for the girls, telling them about high school activities and the different senshi.
“And…are they different, too?” Mishka asked, pausing to look at a picture of Usagi, fingers brushing lightly over the odangoes.
“Yes, some more than others,” Hotaru admitted. “Ami still lives in Japan, but the rest of you are scattered. You’ve been brought up in different cultures, with different lives. Usagi, her name is Moon, now, funny enough,” Hotaru said with a smile. “She is the same. Somehow, she is always the same.”
Hotaru paused for a moment after her soft pronouncement to continue. “Ami and Rei are…very different,” she said. “They aren’t ready yet.”
“And what makes us ready?” Lita countered.
Hotaru brushed the crumbs clinging to her fingers on her jeans. “Rei, her name is Rowan, she had a child four months ago. Ami’s father died in a car accident three weeks ago. We think it unwise to awaken Moon until she has her senshi. And I do not know where Mamoru resides. Setsuna won’t tell me,” she added, her voice quiet.
“So, what are we supposed to do? Drop everything to follow you and protect some woman we don’t even know?” Mishka asked, her voice hard. “I have a life.”
Lita was nodding once again, although she seemed calmer than the blonde, Hotaru noted.
“No, I wouldn’t ask that of you. It isn’t my place,” she replied. “However, with the rise in youma, I ask you take a henshin pen. To be safe. I will show you how to use them.”
Setsuna said they were more similar than she thought, and Hotaru was betting on it. She wouldn’t ask them to defend the city. She would give them the tools and hope that their natures would bear out. The Minako and Makoto she knew would never sit idly by when people were in danger.
They’d discuss moving once they were used to the idea of senshi. Once they regained their memories.
Mishka’s face was still hard, but Lita had her hand out. “I want to learn,” she said earnestly, looking at Mishka with imploring eyes.
Hotaru didn’t know the history between the two, but after a moment, Mishka held out her hand as well. “I don’t know why I believe you,” she said quietly. “But I’ll do it.”
***
The next morning found them at an empty warehouse, courtesy of Setsuna, who had no problem making savvy investments, even if she wouldn’t tell Hotaru the future. But debating the ethics of that sticky situation was something Hotaru had long given up on.
Instead, she surveyed the space Setsuna had purchased, pulling out her pen from subspace absentmindedly. Lita and Mishka were behind her, the two looking as if they weren’t sure what they had gotten themselves into, although Hotaru hoped the wide-eyed distrust would disappear soon.
They didn’t have time to reforge a millennia of bonding, no matter what Setsuna said.
Lita and Mishka both fumbled, still trying to extricate the pens from their subspace pockets, and Hotaru sighed. With any hope, the return of their memories would help. She had no desire to hold their hands.
They removed the pens, and Hotaru explained in detailed the henshin phrases and process. It was hard to describe, and she was glad she had thought about the explanation the night before. Otherwise, she probably would have mumbled something about a rush of power, and they would be looking at her as if she was even crazier than they thought.
She henshined quietly, comforting glaive in hand, as they looked at her expectantly, waiting for her instruction.
“Go ahead,” Hotaru said. She was not a leader. She was not a teacher. She wasn’t good at this, and all she wanted was her friends, her comrades. Her senshi.
Now that they were in front of her, she was impatient.
Both girls spoke the henshin phrases quietly, and it looked as if Mishka was steeling herself for the whole situation to be a dream. Lita, Hotaru noted curiously, looked as if she wanted to believe. Lita was also the one to sink to her knees, crying, as soon as her transformation completed, entirely overwhelmed by what Hotaru hoped were memories.
Mishka, she noticed, stood straighter, chin up, even though it looked like there were unshed tears in her eyes. “You were right,” she whispered. “I do remember.”
Lita had risen, throwing her arms around Hotaru, squeezing tight. “Oh, Hotaru. You were right.”
And if she pretended they weren’t in a warehouse, in New York City and not Tokyo, Hotaru almost felt happy. Right now, though, her stomach was roiling. They remembered, but they weren’t the same. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Mishka had unfurled Sailor Venus’ chain and was playing with it absently, and as soon as Lita noticed, the brunette had moved towards her, reaching out a curious hand to touch.
“It’s odd,” she said. “I remember, but it’s like the memory is foggy. Like a memory from your childhood. I remember this, but I have no recollection how it feels.”
Mishka furled the chain and placed it back into her subspace pocket, still fumbling slightly. “I know what to say, what to do. I don’t know if my body will,” she agreed, still the serious woman Hotaru had met, rather than the bubbly Aino Minako.
And so Hotaru showed them how to do their first attack, and when Mishka whipped the Love-Me Chain around her waist for the first time with a smile, she felt relieved. Perhaps the happy girl she remembered was still a part of her.
She went through all of their possible attacks, explaining their functions, strengths, and weaknesses, hoping that Mishka and Lita were focused. The youma were weak now, but Hotaru knew they could run into a stronger one at any time.
She had the scars to prove it.
She gave them disguise pens and compacts, and Mishka’s grin at becoming an exact replica of a famous movie star helped dispel more of her unease. Mishka would want to protect the princess, once she met her. She hoped.
They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the city, trying to get to know each other in a normal way, pretending Hotaru hadn’t researched the women already. And so Lita told her about the bakery where she worked, and how she had been adopted by Mishka’s family when her parents died. And then Mishka told her how her parents had emigrated, when they were ten, to New York City, and how she started dancing not long after that. They spoke of their neighbor, Jason, and the white cat they’d adopted from the shelter, and the apartment they shared on the other side of town.
And Hotaru felt, almost, as if her friends had returned.
That evening, they hunted youma, and Hotaru was relieved to see their skills return in fits and starts. They were nowhere near the skill level of the senshi at their demise, but they could demolish a youma quick enough. Lita even seemed to enjoy it, although Mishka was tense and serious the entire night.
When she got on a transporter for Tokyo, Hotaru let out a sigh of relief as that famous whoosh of transporting filled her ears. Lita and Mishka would be all right.
They would all be all right.