Thorns of Balm- Part 1Disclaimer: This is a fanfic inspired by the manga and animé series, "Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon" (Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon). All characters and settings are the property of Takeuchi Naoko-sama, Kodansha, TV Asahi, and Toei. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made off this story by the author. It is only a work of love, written solely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not distribute this story for profit. THE THORNS OF BALM by Anna-chan PART ONE Zoisite sprang from atop a wall of shipping crates, slashing at everything in his path, hot on the heels of Tuxedo Kamen. His shrieks ripped through the damp, overcast silence of the shipping docks. Tuxedo Kamen panted just ahead of him, the fresh wound in his shoulder still spraying blood. Flashes of lightning from an approaching storm struck like snake bites over the black water of Tokyo Bay. Zoisite's dark-energy bolt hit the pyramid of oil drums that towered over them. Mamoru-Kamen cried out as he tried to dodge, but one of the drums knocked him to the pavement. Zoisite would finally spill the blood of the man he hated even more than his enslavement to the Dark Kingdom--the enemy who (among other things) had stolen his crystals and cost Zoisite the favor of his queen. With his ice-crystal katana raised high into the air, Zoisite threw his head back and laughed. He would enjoy slicing his nemesis into two bloody halves. "Try robbing me now!" Suddenly, he felt the hot sting of magic piercing him just below his middle. Zoisite staggered back a step and looked down to see one of Kamen's red roses stuck firmly in his flesh. His mouth fell open. Hadn't the bastard already used them all? And this was no mere nick to the face or hands. Mostly, Zoisite felt foolish, and nervously tugged at his pony-tail, until the rose started to do its work. The tremors began at the points of each thorn inside him, spreading ripples of light and terror that bubbled up into Zoisite's throat, forcing a strangled cry. The ice katana shattered on the concrete at his feet as an unexpected weakness washed over him, drowning every nerve. He would have pitched forward on his face had the rose's power of life-force not twisted his slender body into the air. The energy bent Zoisite back, seizing every muscle with a paralyzing spasm that was too frightening for pain. Somewhere within, a tiny spark began to glow--Zoisite's energy answering Kamen's, joining it to create something new. Then he was gently lowered to his knees on the concrete. He stared up at Kamen, who was panting and leaning against a stack of wooden pallets, clutching his shoulder through a rip in his cape. Kamen's Japanese eyes were now as round and white as two moons. "You were supposed to aim for my heart, you fool!" hissed Zoisite. Overhead, cracks of thunder hailed the sound of chopper blades as search lights from the Tokyo police swept over the docks. A portal to Zoisite's dark world ripped open the air like a black wound just a few steps to his left. "Zoisite!" shouted his mentor, Kunzite, from within. "Hurry!" Zoisite crawled on his hands and knees toward Kunzite-sama's voice and glowing, silver eyes, but when he reached the portal, the dark energy threw him back. His right shoulder struck the ground, shooting pain through his arm. "Zoisite! Get in here!" Kunzite leaned half way out, stretching forth his hands, which were both still bleeding from his own skirmish with Kamen. Two choppers were right over their heads, trapping them in a blinding cone of blue-white light that illuminated the platinum shimmer of Kunzite's long hair. As Zoisite crawled back again, the loudspeakers of the police authorities boomed out their warnings. Kunzite grabbed his wrists and tried to pull him in, but it was like trying to join two powerful magnets at their identical poles; some strange repulsion would not let Zoisite enter his portal to the Dark Kingdom. Zoisite screamed in pain as Kunzite's large hands tightened around Zoisite's smaller hands, forcing him against the gaping blackness. He felt as if his slender wrists were pulling apart while the repulsion snapped his head back. "What's wrong?" said Kunzite through clenched teeth. "Why can't you . . . " Then Kunzite's eyes dropped to where the rose was still embedded, although the crimson petals were now starting to completely absorb into Zoisite's flesh. Zoisite turned his face so he wouldn't be tortured by Kunzite's expression. He only felt a shudder loosen his lover's grip, and heard Kunzite say, "Kamen, if you let the police get him . . ." Then Kunzite was wrenched away by the forces in the portal, swallowed back into the depths of his world, where Zoisite could no longer follow. The loudspeakers bellowed their final warnings: On the ground, arms over head, or they would open fire. Zoisite collapsed where sand and bits of ground-up glass scraped his cheek. He was still crying out for his lover when he felt Kamen's arms seize him roughly around his waist and yank him to his feet. "I can get you to Crystal Yedo!" snapped Kamen over the deafening noise of the chopper blades. "What? Let me go!" Kamen's arms squeezed tighter as he pinned Zoisite to his chest and struggled to hold him in his field of teleport. "Never!" screamed Zoisite, but his breath was violently knocked out of his lungs in the cold flash of indigo that swallowed them both. The first round of police bullets was chiseling the concrete where their feet had just been. PART I The first thing Zoisite felt, as consciousness gently led him back into the world, was the bathing warmth of sunlight. He especially felt it on his left hand, which rested above a down featherbed. Light wasn't something he was used to. Such soothing, yellow heat was hardly even a memory. Zoisite's fingers opened and spread as if yearning to be healed by the sun. His eyelids fluttered, trying to crack the seal of sleep, but quickly squeezed shut against the painful brilliance. He shifted slightly, enough to feel that he was lying on a futon, shrouded in the softest silk he could ever imagine. Sandalwood and cloves mixed with the intoxicating perfume of lilies, and it took a moment for Zoisite to realize that he was smelling an herbal oil that had been rubbed into his own skin. Somewhere, a breathy sounding flute was playing a slow, mournful melody in some room beyond. Only the echoes reached Zoisite's ears, sending pleasant shivers up the back of his neck. "He's awake," said a voice above him, suddenly wrenching Zoisite from his reverie. He knew that voice . . . too well. Ami of Mercury! Oh, Gods! he panicked. Where was he? Zoisite tried to jump up, but was so weak it only took someone's small hand pressing on his chest to hold him down. "I don't understand how this could've happened," said another voice that Zoisite recognized as Makoto of Jupiter. "Even with the rose's generative powers, how can a man--" "Zoisite is both man and woman," said Ami. "Didn't you know that?" There was a strange edge to her words. "I didn't know," said Makoto. "But then why are we calling Zoisite 'he?' Isn't that absurd for someone in, uh, such a condition?" There was a pause, then Ami said, "Yes. You're right. Of course." "Will she be able to carry it to term?" "There's no reason she can't, but she'll have to be delivered by blade; her hips are too narrow." Ami gave an odd stress to the words "she" and "her," as if her tongue had trouble pronouncing them. Zoisite's eyes opened a little more and looked straight up from the bed. He took a deep, sharp breath. It was Ami's hand pinning him down. The senshi's face was shielding the harshest of the sunlight, which framed her heavy, dark hair like an aureole. Her complexion was pale, almost as blue-white as the kimono she was wearing, and she bore an expression that could've been either concern or judgmental scorn, possibly both. Zoisite could only look into those deep, dark eyes for a moment before he had to blink and turn away. But Ami's other hand was now cradling the back of his head, easing him upright. In silence she held a small cup of dark red sumac tea to his lips. It was bittersweet and not too warm. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until after the first swallow. Wanting to beg for more, the words caught in his throat and allowed only a soft, pitiful sounding cry, like that of a kitten. Ami refilled the cup and pushed it back under his nose. Half of the tea spilled down the front of Zoisite's sleeping gown, looking not unlike blood stains on the white silk. >From the futon, Zoisite could see that he was in a large chamber where delicately cut facets of crystal grew between the lintels and timbers. Sunlight streamed in through prisms of color ranging from scarlet to light green to midnight purple. Zoisite himself was bathed in gold where he lay. Along the window screens, long, silk banners honored the planetary colors, and vines heavy with opalescent blossoms wound their way down cedar pillars to the fine, straw mats on the floor. From the long tokonoma recess, three fountains trickled into a low pool. Then he noticed that the flute had stopped. The pleasant comfort of his awakening began to sour his stomach with feelings of unbelonging. A group of five court attendants filed toward him from behind the rice paper screens. The purple and gold silk of their embroidered robes floated through the air as they moved, and their smooth faces all radiated the serene kindness of a blessed existence. Remembering how he had come to this place--the shipping docks, the copters, his Kunzite-sama struggling to pull him back to his realm, and Kamen . . . Zoisite's anger and hatred started to return. Like the sharp thorns of Kamen's rose, which was now part of Zoisite's flesh, the beauty of his new surroundings pierced him inside, making him bleed where these strangers couldn't see. His hands balled up into fists as he pushed Ami away and cringed. "He's so beautiful," said one of the strangers. "I never imagined arch demons could look like such angels," said another, bending down to touch Zoisite's long, golden-red curls. Zoisite lashed out at her like a cornered cat. With his anger and hatred came renewed strength. "Careful," said the first attendant, pulling her companion back. "He may look like the fairest lily blossom in the pool, but don't forget how this monster attacked Naru's beloved, the demon who turned." "How could such a cherry blossom be the foot of our most murderous enemy, Beryl?" said the second attendant, looking at Ami, whose face was turning even more pale than before. "I . . . I think we should all give our patient plenty of space," said Ami. Suddenly, Emperor Mamoru-Kamen appeared with four guards from behind the screens, flute in hand, his perfect posture and bearing as dignified as his newly elevated station. He wore a red tunic, lined with gold, that fell to just below his knees, and dark blue pants with the stripes of his military rank. While the attendants lowered their heads, Zoisite forgot about the music that had soothed him just minutes before. His thorns of hatred sparked and flamed up into a heart-consuming fire. He could feel his familiar globe of dark power heating the pit of his stomach. Hate was Zoisite's strength. All the fury igniting Zoisite's soul sharpened like needles that gathered into his fists. With a cry that could almost shatter the great, Imperium Crystal itself, Zoisite's hands shot a bolt of sharpened ice petals at the young emperor. The blast would've killed Mamoru had he not jumped from its path. The attendants screamed and dropped to the floor. "His hands!" shouted Ami. "Makoto! Get his hands!" In a flash, Ami and Makoto seized Zoisite's wrists and pulled them back behind his head. Zoisite fought like a wild animal, but Mamoru's four guards were on him like hunting hounds. He felt a braided sash, such as those used to tie a kimono, lash his wrists together to the wooden frame of his futon. He tried to roll up and kick, but three of the guards were now securing his feet as well. Molten anger bubbled and seethed under the intense pressure of Zoisite's restraints. His panting breath foamed at the corners of his mouth. When Mamoru approached, Zoisite's every muscle strained to break the bonds, but they held fast, cutting into his skin. He lay helpless under the open-jaw stares of everyone present. And the thorns of Mamoru-Kamen's rose flared up as the young emperor drew close for an appraising gaze, until the pain was almost unbearable. Zoisite clenched his teeth to keep from groaning. He would not give his enemy such satisfaction. Mamoru knelt down on one knee and smiled. "How is my--" Zoisite spat at his face. "Demon!" screamed Makoto, raising her hand to strike Zoisite. "I'll teach it some manners!" "Makoto!" cried Ami, reaching over to stay Makoto's fist. "No!" Mamoru stood up with a nervous sounding laugh. "It's all right. I should know better than to come within spitting range of this one." Zoisite's rage abated just enough for him to wonder if anyone else noticed the slight tremor in Mamoru's hand that was still holding the flute. Suddenly there was a gasp, followed by murmurs of respectful greetings from the attendants. Zoisite blinked and looked across the chamber, where smoke and dust was still settling over the charred screens Zoisite had destroyed. As if emerging from a silver cloud, Empress Usagi walked through the smoke. The Attendants and guards dropped to their knees. Mamoru, Makoto and Ami all lowered their heads in silent bows. Zoisite recognized the princess warrior who had single-handedly defeated the second awakening of Beryl. But he had never seen her dressed in so radiant a costume. The folds of her ceremonial robe fluttered and swirled like splashes of a deep blue ocean against a crimson sunset. Her sleeves, which hung to the floor, were shimmering rays of gold, as was her train. Her hair was braided with pearls and pinned up around a jeweled headdress that scattered sunlight like a nimbus over her brow. She approached without guards, and her only personal attendant was a black cat that kept in step at her right side. Zoisite forgot to lower his eyes as the empress drew to his bed. He stared in open wonder and awe. Then he began to tremble. The pain was still stabbing his insides, but it was tempered by Usagi's presence. Zoisite couldn't define the feeling; it wasn't exactly fear, yet he was now shaking uncontrollably. She was kneeling beside him, regarding the dark, red tea stains that ran from the middle of his chest down to the space between his legs. Her cat had jumped up onto the futon and was sniffing at his hair. He could feel the pressure of tears starting to build, and he bit his lip to hold them back. As if Usagi sensed all his emotions, she whispered, "Shhh. Zoisite, I know it hurts." Then she drew her hand from the folds of her robe and rested it on Zoisite's stomach. The stabbing pain immediately melted under her fingertips, and Zoisite could no longer hold on. He threw his head back with a groan that broke into long sobs. This was not how he wanted to show himself--weak and without a shred of dignity in front of Mamoru-Kamen. But every nerve was being consumed by the warmth flowing through Usagi's touch. The pain had vanished, leaving only the trembling gratitude of Zoisite's body. "Zoisite," said Usagi, her voice still gentle yet more firm. "You carry the blood of our blood. And since the presence of an innocent within your body will not allow you to return to the Dark Kingdom, you'll remain with us until after you give birth. We'll do what we can for your comfort here. "However--" Usagi's voice rose to the strength of an imperial command beyond her youth. "I won't have dark magic in my palace. The attack you just made on Mamoru will be your last in Crystal Yedo." Then her right hand reached up to her throat and took hold of a curious brooch that bore an enamel rabbit. She pressed her left palm over Zoisite's brow. Zoisite knew what was happening. He knew he was helpless to stop it, but he lay still under her hand without protest. Perhaps he had already spent all his available violence and anger on Mamoru. Now he only felt a warm, slightly sorrowful resignation at the draining of his magic powers. The guards and attendants watched the minutes pass with hushed whispers. Then Zoisite knew that Usagi had finished; his energy paths were racing in blind circles, and he could hardly tell which way was up. "You'll be a little dizzy for a day," said Usagi. "But don't be afraid; we won't take advantage of you." Then Usagi did something Zoisite never could have expected; she leaned down and kissed his forehead. Her court gasped, sounding almost as shocked as Zoisite felt. Zoisite stared, mouth open, as the young empress called the attendants and guards to follow her out of the chamber. In the sunlit corridor, Usagi and Mamoru walked ahead of the others, well beyond hearing range. Mamoru touched Usagi's sleeve. "Gomen nasai," said Mamoru. "I'm really sorry about this unfortunate accident. I'll take a quiver of roses to the target range today and practice my aim." Empress Usagi smiled. "How do we know it's unfortunate? Sometimes accidents turn out happy. And besides--" Usagi patted her belly, which was not quite beginning to swell yet. "A new child is always welcome in Crystal Yedo." Back in the chamber, Makoto tightened her chestnut-brown pony-tail, wiped the sweat from her bangs and asked, "What do we do now?" after the others had left her and Ami alone with Zoisite. "Do we untie him? I, I mean . . . her?" "I don't know," said Ami, clutching the folds of her kimono. Then Ami took Zoisite's pointed, fae-like chin and said, "Well? Should we untie you?" Her face was too close. Zoisite squirmed and turned his head away. There were some memories he didn't want to invoke just yet. "I think that means 'no,' " said Ami. "I don't understand why Usagi's making you take care of her," said Makoto. "Why does this demon deserve the care of our chief court physician, when all the lower healers would do just fine? I know it's supposedly Mamo's child, but . . . this is Zoisite!" Ami walked slowly across the mats, eyes cast down. "I know. It's going to be a long nine months." Zoisite squeezed her eyes shut. Her face felt as pinched as a tight knot, fighting to hold her tears. * Kunzite knelt with his elbows on a low table in his bedchamber, head in his hands. He should feel relieved, he told himself. Had Mamoru-Kamen's aim been true, Zoisite would've died. A chill passed through Kunzite's body at the thought of his love, the only light in his dark existence, being extinguished forever. And death was not all that awaited every servant of Beryl. Once the physical body was killed, the soul still belonged to the ruler of the Dark Kingdom, who would feed off its energy and keep it in eternal torment in her garden of hate. The only servant ever known to have escaped this fate was Nephrite, the one who had tempted the human, Naru. Why he had been spared remained a mystery. So Kunzite should've felt grateful, he told himself again, that Zoisite was not dead. He was only banished for a few months from Kunzite's arms. But the demon general's gaze slid across the chamber to his large futon, where the second pillow would no longer be necessary. His throat tightened almost to choking. Although Zoisite's ambiguity made it physically possible, Kunzite could never give Zoisite a child himself, for Beryl would've killed them both. With the exception of lying to Beryl, there were few crimes more serious in Jigoku than the creation of new life, so they had always been extremely careful. Kunzite pushed himself from the table and stood where the organic rock formations that molded his ceiling were almost too low for his unusually tall frame. Beryl would not wait any longer for his report. He straightened the peplum of his severe, gray uniform, fastened the cape to the epaulettes on his shoulders, and strode out into the dark, narrow corridor that led to Queen Beryl's audience chamber. He couldn't tell Queen Beryl the truth, even though Zoisite was out of her reach in the palace of Crystal Yedo. At least Kunzite's love would be safe for nine months in the hands of Empress Usagi and Emperor Mamoru. Certainly, they would defuse Zoisite's powers, restrain him, and make him furiously mad (Kunzite smiled slightly, imagining the temper tantrums), but Usagi and Mamoru would not hurt him. That was not Crystal Yedo's way. And who knows? thought Kunzite as he coursed along the dark passages. Maybe Beryl would eventually forget Zoisite and leave him to a new life of freedom on Earth. If that ever happened, Kunzite, of course, would have to keep his distance and never hold Zoisite again, or Beryl would find out. But it would be worth it. He would sacrifice his only light for Zoisite's freedom. Taking one last, deep breath behind the framed scrim at the entrance to Beryl's audience chamber, Kunzite prepared to lie. He threw back his shoulders and his long, metallic-looking hair and started across the obsidian floor, which was polished like a black pond. The groans of youma hanging from the stalactites high above Beryl's atrium were unusually pitiful, and the ferric stench of flowing blood was strong. Shadows of souls filled the spaces and far corners around the chamber with liquid black, spilling over the shiny floor in puddles that clawed at the stone. Beryl had a youma kowtowing at the foot of her dais--a hideous lower demon that might've looked like an insect before its wings had been torn off. Now it was more like a giant, red maggot with a few remaining legs scattered here and there. Its eyes (if Kunzite was correct in identifying them as such) were adorning the tip of a pike that one of Beryl's eleven guards was holding. "Come forward, Lord Kunzite," said Queen Beryl. Kunzite stepped forward and dropped to both knees, kissing the floor. "Your servant humbly requests the favor of your patient audience, Most Honored One." "Rise, and tell me why your deshi does not accompany you tonight." Kunzite rose and straightened, careful not to let his eyes climb above the hem of Beryl's long, blue gown. "Zoisite is dead," said Kunzite. "Tuxedo Kamen killed him with a direct hit." "Is that so?" The questioning tone of Beryl's voice held the luring sweetness of a Venus Flytrap. Kunzite didn't dare look up at her face, but in his mind he could see the stretch of her thin lips and the fork of her tongue flicking over a pair of fangs. "You seem to be taking it very well," she said. "And I always thought you were fond of that little rat. But even I can occasionally misjudge. Are you absolutely certain Zoisite is dead?" Kunzite could sense Beryl's eyes burning into his soul. He felt naked and transparent. "Y-yes, Honored One." "You would never deceive me." "Never." "Because I would know." Beryl turned to the youma clutching its remaining body parts at her feet. "You have deceived me." "No!" cried the youma through the hooked jaws of its worm-like mouth. "Nev-vv-er! M, m, most hon, hon, honor, grac--ioussss" Beryl's nearest guard silenced it with a kick. A sick, green fluid oozed from where its appendages had been ripped off. The youma's putrid smell was enough to make even Kunzite nauseous, and he wondered how Beryl could stand to be so near it. She was leaning forward, close to its "head." "Now," she said in her most gentle whisper. "Tell me why you lied." "I s-swear I, I, I didn't!" stammered the youma. "Are you calling me a liar?" Beryl turned to her guard. "Take this lump of slime down below." The guard nodded, and suddenly the youma rolled up into a spasmodic ball. "No! Please! I'll confess! Whatever it was, I'll confess!" Beryl wrapped her spiny fingers around the globe of her scepter and waited for the guard to drag the screaming creature away. "They can be articulate when it's urgent," she said, more to herself than to Kunzite. Kunzite cleared his throat as Beryl directed her attention once more to him. It was time to raise his eyes and meet her face. Not the easiest thing to do. "When had we planned to initiate our strike against the palace of Crystal Yedo?" said Beryl. "We attack in twelve months, Honored One." "My sources have been assessing our holdings on Earth and speculating on prime opportunities to seize the middle realm. But we must clear the road. So I've decided to move our strike on Crystal Yedo forward by several months." Kunzite blanched, and then hoped Beryl hadn't noticed. "I . . . I cannot advise it," he said as steadily as he could. "Our troops are far from ready, and Empress Usagi's wards are very strong. There's not enough energy to subdue them. We need at least nine . . . or ten months." "If I say we must move the attack forward," hissed Beryl, "you will find a way, Lord Kunzite." The yellow slits of her eyes narrowed. Kunzite swallowed. "How much forward?" "We will attack in seven months." "Seven!" "Are you questioning my judgment, Lord Kunzite?" "N-no, Honored One." Kunzite dropped his gaze to the steel toes of his boots. "We will attack in seven months. I . . . will see to it." "Good." Beryl leaned back on her dais and smiled, looking almost casual. "I'm so sorry about your star pupil, Zoisite. Such a waste." Kunzite bowed with his right fist pressed to his heart. Perhaps, he thought, if he could press hard enough, he could keep it from breaking. "We dismiss you, Lord Kunzite." "Your grace exceeds your humble servant's worth, Most Honored One." Kunzite crouched down and kissed the floor before turning to leave. He was half-way across the polished obsidian when Beryl said, "Wait." Kunzite froze. The smoothness of Beryl's voice stopped the blood cold in his veins. "Your pupil, Zoisite, was very ambitious. Ambitious and promising." "Yes, Honored One." "He had a most admirable lust for power, along with a gifted talent for magic, and could've risen to a high rank. We should avenge his death in a way that will pay tribute to him. Something fitting." "Have no doubt, Honored One," said Kunzite. "Emperor Mamoru will lose his life." "He will," said Beryl, "by the hand of his own child." Cold sweat beaded behind Kunzite's knees and between his shoulder blades, but he kept his face like stone. "Mamoru has no child," he said. His heart was pounding so hard, he could hear it. "Not true," said Beryl, toying with the globe of her scepter. "Usagi has only been married for two seasons, and the rabbit is already three months along. By word of the stars, she carries a daughter. Do you know what that means?" Kunzite quietly exhaled. "A first-born daughter will strengthen Usagi's line." "But not if I get the little whelp first. Zoisite was developing a spell to help me do just that. Were you familiar with it?" "Zoisite has always had many projects, Honored One. I, I cannot recall the one of which you speak." "When this spell is placed over the palace at Crystal Yedo, at the time Usagi gives birth, but before the whelp is completely severed from the womb, it will turn Usagi's child into my servant. Then all the energy possessed of the rabbit's offspring will belong to me! I believe we will then be able to attack with no trouble." "But our timing must be so exact!" said Kunzite. "True. If we cast the spell too soon--before the rabbit litters, the unborn child will simply turn into a youma within the womb, devour its host, and both will die. I want that child alive, so there will be no room for error, Lord Kunzite." "A very curious spell, Honored One. What about . . . others in the palace?" "Other little brood mares? Zoisite's spell is not very particular. All unborn creatures within the palace will turn into youma and devour their hosts. It will get very messy. But that shouldn't interest you, Lord Kunzite. Should it?" Beryl's eyes held more amusement than inquiry. Kunzite said nothing. "Prepare to cast Zoisite's spell in six months," said Beryl. Kunzite rubbed the bridge of his nose with his knuckle. "I do seem to recall this spell. But if I remember, it's development was never completed. It doesn't work." "Not yet, Lord Kunzite. But it wll after you are finished with it." "My Queen?" Kunzite blinked. "I am dismissing you from several of your other duties, so that you may devote your time and energy to completing and perfecting Zoisite's project. It will be a fitting way for you to pay tribute to your lost, little rat." "Please!" cried Kunzite, forgetting to act disinterested. "I, I'm not the one to do this! I mean, there are others who are much more adept at this kind of spell--" "Are you refusing my orders?" Kunzite's knees buckled as he dropped to kiss the floor at the foot of Beryl's dais. "I would never disobey you, Honored One--" "Good. Because if you ever do, my servants below this chamber would love to play with you, Lord Kunzite. Groveling slugs with their legs already torn off, like that youma my guard just took down, aren't nearly as amusing." "I will do as you say," whispered Kunzite. "And you will not fail me." Beryl drew her legs up and curled them under her gown. "Now you are dismissed." Kunzite didn't know how he managed crossing the floor, but as he finally reached the framed scrim behind the exit, Beryl called out, "Six months!" Zoisite would be just moderately swollen in six months. PART TWO Mamoru hopped over two more smooth, flat stones until he was almost to the center of the lily pool. Then he raised his wooden flute to his lips and played for the spotted koi who gathered at the surface around his feet. The warm, spring breeze feathered his black hair. "Hey, Mamo!" called a voice from beyond the plum trees. Mamoru looked up to see Aino Minako and Hino Rei climbing over the azaleas and around the topiary. "Minako! Rei! You're back!" Mamoru skipped across the bridge of stones, almost slipping and falling into the water. He ran to the garden's edge and hugged Rei, then Minako. Minako was still wearing her orange traveling uniform of coarse hemp cloth, but Rei was already in her red and white temple robes. Mamoru took Rei's hands. He sensed a strange frailty about her; her smile seemed a little weak, and she was clutching her bamboo staff as if she needed it to walk. "How was your pilgrimage?" "The gardens of Kyoto are enormous!" said Minako. "I've never seen so many flowering cherry trees. It snowed pink blossoms every day!" "Did you miss Crystal Yedo?" said Mamoru, as the three strolled back toward the lily pool. "I did," said Rei. "But I don't know about my guardian here; she had an awfully good time these past two months." Minako spun around on her boot heel. "The guards there were so kawaii! And our room was high up in the branches of a tall catalpa tree, where we could see the whole landscape!" "How was the hatching?" "I . . . I cannot even begin to describe it," said Rei, kneeling down at the edge of the pool. She offered her fingertips to a large, orange and white koi who was nuzzling the surface for attention. "The temple bells started ringing about an hour before dawn," said Minako. "And we all got up and went to the great pond. Rei walked right into the water, robes and all. There had to be a thousand people gathered around that egg! Every priestess and holy person in all of Crystal Nihon was there! We guardians, of course, had to stand back and not touch the water, but I could still see it." Minako leaped into the air and caught the branch of a weeping juniper tree that clung to the stone ledge high over Mamoru's head. She curled herself around it, letting her long, golden hair hang down. "Oh, I wish you and Usagi and all the others could've been there. I'll never forget that little dragon poking its beak out the shell for as long as I live!" "A new dragon is born only once every hundred years," said Rei. "I am very fortunate to have witnessed this." Mamoru watched Minako vault back into the air and touch down on a stone near the center of the pool. She scooped up three lily blossoms and skipped over the water back to the shore. After pinning a lily to the comb in Rei's long, black hair, Minako fixed the second to Mamoru's ear and kept the third for herself to hold. "The princess of Kyoto gives you her warmest regards," said Minako. "And have you seen the bunny she sent Usagi? It's got blue fur!" "I haven't seen Usagi yet today." "Where were you all morning? We missed you." "I had to meet with my generals," said Mamoru. "Very important business. Then there were the morning lessons with my combat instructor, and then a meeting with an official from Kobe, and finally, I came here just to get enough peace and quiet to think." "That's the problem," said Minako. "Everyone's so serious around here. You know what we should do? We should all go down to Tokyo tomorrow, just for the day, and play video games at the arcade, like we used to. I haven't seen Naru and the gang in ages. I even miss Umino!" "Minako! We can't just take off for Earth whenever we feel like it. We've all got responsibilities now! You're a guardian, and I'm the Emperor of Crystal Yedo, remember?" Minako grinned and said, "You never let us forget." Mamoru ignored the friendly jab. "Speaking of responsibilities, I haven't paid my daily visit to Zoisite yet." "We were just there!" said Minako. "Hoo boy! Ami's got her hands full! Hasn't she, Rei? You know, you really should keep Makoto Jupiter out of that room. I mean, I know she's Ami's helper and all, but she and Zoisite are two of a temper! "You shoulda seen 'em! Ami brings up some special food for Zoisite, because she's gotten so thin, you know? And Makoto tries to force her to eat, so Zoisite bites Makoto . . . " "Oh Gods, she's biting again?" Mamoru rubbed his brow. " . . . then Makoto strikes Zoisite, and Zoisite screams to curdle blood, and then Ami starts crying . . . " "I can't believe we still have seven more months of this nightmare." " . . . and Zoisite throws the bowl clear across the room! By the Gods, there were noodles and fish all over Jigoku! Then Zoisite takes the chopsticks . . ." Mamoru sighed. "I'd better go see her." " . . . and tries to stab herself in the stomach! You've got to keep all sharp implements out of that room! And any furniture with sharp corners, and anything poisonous! I mean anything, because Zoë would chew the lacquer off a Buddha! "I still say we need to restrain her," continued Minako. "I could rig something upeasy." "No!" Mamoru suddenly felt sick. "Zoisite's a woman, not a farm animal!" "But Mamo, she threatens everyone who goes in there! Our servants are afraid to even be in that wing!" "I said 'no' before, and I mean it! I am not keeping a pregnant woman tied up! We're not barbarians!" "Then why don't you let Usagi be with her? Usagi calms her down." "I will not subject my wife to that kind of dark energy. It drains Usagi, and it's not good for our child." "It's not good for your other child, either, Mamo." Mamoru heard a groan. He looked down and saw Rei doubled over, chanting some furious prayer. "Rei!" he cried, rushing over to cover her with his hands. "Are you all right?" Minako dropped down to her side and wrapped her arm around Rei's back. "What's the matter? You haven't been well since we arrived at the palace early this morning." Rei's two crows came flapping toward them, crying into their ears. "What is it?" pleaded Minako. Rei's eyes were shadowed with the dark circles of exhaustion and anxiety. "I want to see Usagi." "She's usually in the tea pavilion at this time," said Mamoru. "Shall I walk with you?" "No. Minako will help me. You must go see Zoisite. See her now." "What's wrong? Has Zoisite done something?" "I . . . don't know. Someone has done something. Maybe something in the past, that's now surfacing. Oh!" Rei lurched forward, grasping her temples. "Take her to Usagi!" said Mamoru. "I, I'll go see Zoisite." Mamoru had gone to the fruit garden, where there were both fruits and blossoms year-round, and placed seven of the ripest, smoothest peaches he could find into an earthenware bowl. But then he thought better of it, imagining what Zoisite might do with broken shards of earthenware, and wrapped the peaches up in a scarf instead. Zoisite had been given a private chamber in the south-west wing, with no windows except for clerestories and no furniture but a futon pad and pillows. In the first few weeks, they had learned (almost too late, on a few occasions) to remove anything Zoisite could possibly use to stab, strangle, poison, bruise or otherwise injure herself. Clutching the bundle of peaches to his chest, Mamoru took a couple deep breaths for courage and headed for the south-west wing. He found Ami seated in the corridor just outside the entrance screen to Zoisite's chamber, where a wooden, make-shift "door" had been set up to prevent Ami's charge from running loose through the palace. Ami's head was slumped below her shoulders, and it seemed to take a great deal of effort for her just to lift her dark eyes to greet Mamoru. "Mamo-kun," she said, trying to smile. She was wearing only plain hemp cloth now, no longer bothering with silk kimonos or any clothes unsuitable for domestic combat. The curls of her heavy bangs clung to her face. "Where's Makoto Jupiter? Inside?" Ami shook beads of sweat from her forehead. "She started fighting with Zoisite again, so I sent her away." "Ami, you look--" Mamoru wrinkled his brow. "How much sleep did you get last night?" "Minako and Rei arrived early this morning, well before dawn." "That's not what I asked." Mamoru knelt down beside Ami and placed one of the peaches into her soft, pale hand. "How much sleep did you get last night?" Ami sighed, looking at her toes. "I didn't sleep. She screamed all night. I tried teas, powders, poultices, every chant I knew and a few I made up on the spot." "Go to bed." "No, I'm all right." "You're exhausted," said Mamoru, drawing Ami into his arms. "And as your emperor, by the imperial powers vested in me, I command that you retire to your chamber and sleep for the rest of the day, and don't come back here until you're well rested." "But--" "I'll get someone to watch Zoisite. Maybe a military squadron, or two." Ami laughed and wrapped her arms around Mamoru's neck. "Thank you." "Don't worry. Things are going to turn out all right. Somehow." Mamoru wished he could believe it himself. He waited for Ami to disappear down the corridor before he entered the room. It only took the turn of a key and the sliding of a wooden panel, but everything felt impossibly heavy, especially Mamoru's feet. The air in the room was thick with incense and the smell of medicinal balms. Light pouring down from the clerestories made sharp bands of gold on the wood floor and walls of an otherwise very dark space. She was in the far right corner, twisting in a tangle of blankets. It was "she" now; not he. Mamoru had finally gotten used to thinking of Zoisite as more woman than man. The first two months had triggered noticeable changes in the line of Zoisite's jaw and in a softening of complexion and muscle tone. Even her green eyes, regarding him now with slitted hate from the corner, seemed a touch more lovely than ever. Mamoru carefully stepped out into the middle of the room and lay the bundle of peaches on the floor, keeping one for himself. They were supposedly good for warding off evil, after all. "I heard you couldn't eat your breakfast, so I brought you these in case you were hungry." No response came from the corner except for more slow writhing. The wall above Zoisite's futon caught Mamoru's eye, and he wondered if the drawings were new, or if he had simply never noticed them before. Illuminated by a splash of light from the clerestories, they covered the whole panel--drawings of what looked like the three worlds, from the hideous youma of Jigoku, to the skyscrapers of Tokyo, to the stroll gardens and palace courtyards of an imagined Crystal Yedo. Mamoru drew in a sharp breath. The renderings, scratched onto the wood with what must've been the charred end of a stick, handled the extremes of the grotesque and the sublime with a frightening, beautiful lucidity. But Mamoru said nothing, and instead conjured a red rose from the sleeve of his tunic. "Get that out of here!" cried Zoisite. "Relax." Mamoru held the rose like a paintbrush and drew an invisible line around the door frame. "I'm only creating a sound barrier, so we can have some privacy." As soon as he "sealed" the chamber, he made the rose vanish in a spark of crimson glitter. "How are the thorns today?" he said. "That's not your concern," said Zoisite through gritted teeth. "Of course it is. They're my thorns, and I could stop the pain, if you'd only let me." "I told you to go to Hell." "No, thank you," said Mamoru. "I've been there several times, and it's a gloomy place." Mamoru bit into his peach. The sweet juice tasted wrong with the acidity of stress in his mouth. "What do you plan to do? Just lie there and let them keep growing and spreading inside of you for the next seven months?" Zoisite was sprawled half on, half off her futon, with her head tipped back on the floor and her long, golden-red hair spilling around her face in silken curls. Somehow, Ami was managing to keep her clean and groomed. The agony tightening her features made it hard to look at her, but her newly blossoming beauty made it impossible to look away. Her spine was arching up slightly, and she was clutching at her bony sides. "If you're so concerned, why don't you bring Usagi here?" Mamoru took another bite of his peach and set the rest down. "Because she can only alleviate your symptoms while she's present. If you want the thorns to stop hurting you for good . . . you know what we have to do." "I'll take the pain," hissed Zoisite. "You're being foolish." "So, why don't you force yourself on me?" Mamoru winced. "You know the magic doesn't work that way. You have to be willing." "I'd rather die than let you touch me." Zoisite had grown so thin and pale, she looked like a fragile, naked bird struggling for life under the fresh, white robe Ami had dressed her in. Was that a temple robe? Mamoru wondered. Whatever it was, sacred or profane, Mamoru felt a sudden urge to untie it, pull Zoisite into his arms and cradle her wracked body against him. It wasn't lust, but anguish and frustration. He wanted to end her pain right here and now. Like the child growing in her womb, the spreading thorns were also his essence joining hers. But they would continue to tear her apart inside as long as she remained estranged from him during her pregnancy. "Zoisite," he said, his voice sounding a little more rough than he had intended. "Once would do it. It doesn't have to take long, and then I'll leave you alone, if you wish." He advanced toward her, reaching out his hand. "Get away!" Zoisite cried, backing up into the corner. "Please. I want to help you." Mamoru knew that coming near her made the thorns flare up, but after weeks of Zoisite's stubbornness, Mamoru's patience was growing weary. He moved closer. "Just let me--" Zoisite shrieked in pain. Mamoru was now at the edge of Zoisite's futon, trying to lean over her. Her shrill screams rose until they hurt his ears. Her whole body went rigid with one, prolonged convulsion. She couldn't even clench her fists. Mamoru finally stepped back and retreated to the opposite side of the room. "All right! All right! Stop screaming!" "Stay away from me!" snarled Zoisite, curling into a ball, then arching up again. "I've got enough of you in this parasite I'm carrying!" "Stop calling our child a parasite! It's a baby!" "And if you'd just leave me with the proper tools, I could kill it and get this over with!" Zoisite groaned in pain. "These . . . thorns . . . Agh!" Mamoru grabbed fistfuls of his hair. "I can't stand this," he growled. Maybe Usagi . . . No! He would not drag Usagi into this and threaten her well-being for this monster! But how long would it go on? How much could he take? Not much more. "Zoisite!" Mamoru hadn't meant to snap, but he wasn't about to apologize. "I'm offering you help, but if you'd rather lie there and be consumed by thorns . . . SUIT YOURSELF!" He grabbed a cushion and threw it against the wall, his frustration flaring into anger. "I hope they spread all the way to your fingertips, because you're a vicious, little fiend, and I despise you!" Mamoru stormed out of the room and into the corridor, pausing only to securely lock the panel behind him. Zoisite grasped her sides once more, then exhaled as evenly as the slowly abating pain would allow. She was lying supine on the wooden floor, with no energy to crawl back into her bed. Her robe was up around her middle, exposing her bare legs. Suddenly, she heard a rustling noise from behind her futon. Her defensive reflexes bolted her upright. "Who's there!" There came a soft mewing. Then a little, black head bearing a white, crescent moon poked its nose over the cushions. "Oh, it's just Usagi's cat," sighed Zoisite, carefully lowering herself back to the floor. The animal had an uncanny talent for coming in without anyone's awareness. As Zoisite closed her eyes, the cat approached. It sniffed at her, then licked the tears from her face with its tiny, sandpaper tongue, tickling Zoisite's ear with its whiskers. Zoisite couldn't help but smile and look up. "You have such a wise countenance, Luna," said Zoisite, lifting her hand to stroke the cat's purring throat. "You almost look as if you could talk." Striding down the corridor as swiftly away from the south-west wing as he could walk, Mamoru tried to suppress a voice that had been haunting him too frequently of late. It was only a few years younger than himself, distant and too familiar. He walked faster, but it's echo pursued his soul. His stomach knotted with every repeated whisper. "You're a demon and a traitor; who would believe you?" Mamoru smacked right into one of his chamber servants. "Mamoru-sama!" said the servant, catching Mamoru's arm to steady him. "Ah, yes! Ah, could you do something for me? Lady Zoisite's not been feeling well, and has not eaten today. Please bring her anything she might like, any dish she requests. And some fresh sheets, and silk to wear, and sprigs of cherry blossoms to brighten her room." "Mamoru-sama? Is, is Your Excellence quite all right?" "Of course! Why do you ask?" "You look pale. Perhaps you would desire to sit down by the windows?" "Lie, kekko desu," said Mamoru with a short bow. "Thanks, but I've got to run to a meeting with some of my public officials." He hurried off, but paused and turned once more to his servant, who was wrinkling his aged brow. "Ah, and could you bring Lady Zoisite some drawing things? Parchment and brushes with ink? Nothing sharp or poisonous." "It will be done." "Arigato." Mamoru was starting to welcome his endless, bureaucratic meetings; at least they could silence that voice for a while. * Kunzite crouched silently inside a low, stone recess, watching a cloud of green vapor spin between the points of his fingers. His silver-gray eyes--large, but stretched into horizontal slits by epicanthus folds--flashed like a cat's in the dark. Holding perfectly still, Kunzite directed elements from the air and stone to swirl into the vapor in just the correct proportions. The cloud's poisonous glow lit the volcanic, stone cavities that formed Kunzite's lair, where he slept alone, fed alone, and worked without rest on the spell for Beryl. No rest, but much cursing. Over a sculpted rock that sometimes served as a chair, lay his cape, where he had draped it days before. His black shirt was unlaced at his throat and wrists. The smooth, stone floor felt warm under his boots. "Oh, Zoisite," he whispered to the vapor. "Why did you have to conceive such a horrible thing for me to develop? Now this spell is our child. It's not what I had wanted to make with you." Sparks began to leap from the cloud--colored, chemical sparks complimenting the streaks of copper and gold that threaded through the warm burgundy of his stone walls. The poison was ready. Kunzite conjured a small, glass phial just in time to catch the drops as they condensed and fell. "But I will not let it devour you." Clawing the sharpened nail of his little finger across the glass lip, Kunzite sealed the phial. Then he pulled a delicate silver chain from around his throat and up over his head, smoothing back a mane of platinum hair, letting it fan over his broad shoulders. Beryl had said, "six months," then set him so quickly to the task of completing Zoisite's spell that Kunzite had found little time for the despair in his heart. There had been no choice, of course, but to obey her. Beryl would never hesitate to condemn Kunzite if he refused, to watch her guards drag him down to that place below her audience chamber, and then appoint one of the many other arch demons clawing their way up to his position. In the blackness of his pain, Kunzite knew that refusing Beryl would not save his beloved from the hideous death Zoisite's spell promised. But the poison he had just condensed into this phial could. Usagi's court didn't know that they had less than four months left, before the accursed spell would be cast. Then Usagi's newborn enfanta would be claimed by Beryl, all the unborn in the palace would turn into parasitic youma, and blood would spill. But by that time, if all went right, Zoisite would carry no child. Kunzite held the phial up to his eye. This poison was just enough to cause a miscarriage, no more. The problem, however, lay in getting it to Zoisite. Usagi's wards were strong, and no denizen of the Dark Kingdom, or even an inhabitant of Earth could enter Crystal Yedo unless invited by one of the rulers. That was how Zoisite had gotten in. Kunzite fixed the tiny bottle to his silver necklace and pulled it back over his head, burying it under the laces of his shirt so Beryl and the others wouldn't see it. As far as he knew, Beryl indeed believed Zoisite to be dead. But Kunzite could never be sure about Beryl. That malicious gleam in her eye when she had given Kunzite his orders had been just a little too knowing. As for getting the poison to Zoisite, Kunzite would quietly bide his time and watch for any opportunity. He had almost four months. Then . . . Kunzite closed his eyes and remembered a warmer moment of embracing Zoisite's slender body, pulling him close enough to feel his breath, and his soft laugh as Kunzite suddenly swept him up into his arms, and the passionate hunger with which Zoisite had returned his kiss. Kunzite could almost see the sparkle of emeralds in Zoisite's eyes, could almost touch that young face, stroke his fingertips through curls that fell like silken floss down to Zoisite's waist, where Kunzite could wrap his hands around . . . Before he knew it, Kunzite was on his knees with his lips touching the smooth, warm stone, his large hands clasped before him. "My love, my sakura, you will be free of this place. After so long, you will finally be free of Jigoku." PART THREE "We believe the third awakening of Beryl plans to attack," said Mamoru as he coursed down the passageway toward the dreaded south-west wing. "But we don't know when or how." He was flanked by officials from Crystal Kyoto, Kobe and Osaka, all in formal, military dress. "One cannot convince me she has enough power to launch an assault," said the official from Kyoto. "--now that we have the fortune of a new dragon with us." "I'm sure she doesn't," said Mamoru. "How does she plan to acquire the necessary energy to even hope for victory? We've been monitoring youma activity in Tokyo, and have seen almost nothing. It's been very quiet down on Earth." Mamoru nodded. "Too quiet." It had been three months now since he had brought Zoisite here. Since then, he had seen no sign of Kunzite anywhere in Tokyo. He wondered, had Beryl killed him? "The minor demons we've caught have been nothing but petty spies," said the official. "What's going on?" They rounded a corner, where late morning sun filtered in through patterns of goldfish and dragons in the fret-work along the top of the window screens. It warmed the straw mats under Mamoru's bare feet, as well as the strips of cedar batten over his head. He noticed that painted scrolls of cool, mountain streams had replaced those of kitchen hearths and sun-dried deserts. Suddenly, his ceremonial uniform with its full coat of red and blue brocade, its long sleeves and the girdle that bore an engraved wakizashi short sword instead of a flute, felt too heavy and hot for summer. Or was Mamoru just sweating over what he was about to do? They paused at the entrance to the south-west wing. "Is this where the arch demon Zoisite is kept?" said the official from Kobe. "Hai," said Mamoru, wishing his servants would be more discreet about his "guest." "And here is where I must leave you, to perform my daily duty." "We all desire to accompany our gracious emperor. None of us has ever seenan arch demon." With a deep sigh, Mamoru said, "I would not subject you to this ordeal." "But we have heard that the demon Zoisite's beauty surpasses that of angels." Mamoru winced. "It is an outward beauty only. She is Jigoku to her very soul. And, as you are all my friends, I would rather suffer dishonor than put you in harm's way." "Arigato," murmured the bowing officials, obviously disappointed. "Good health and long life to our gracious emperor." They were slow and hesitant in leaving, perhaps hoping Mamoru would change his mind. When they finally disappeared around the corner, Mamoru shook his head and grinned in spite of the "duty" that lay ahead. He wondered if he would ever get used to imperial court life. Maybe Minako was right; maybe he could use a day or two at the video arcade. A frightened shriek scattered that thought. He rushed into the south-west wing to find a servant woman running from Zoisite's room into the corridor, screaming in pain and trying to pull off her soaked tunic. "What happened?" said Mamoru. "It was Zoisite!" said Makoto of Jupiter, pushing past him to help the woman, who was thrashing her scalded arms about wildly. "Zoisite threw the bowl of soup at her!" Mamoru shoved the door screen wide open. "Zoisite! Make ice now!" Even with her powers drained, there were some things Zoisite could still do, but only if her captors commanded it. Mamoru dodged a sharp ice crystal that shot out of the room and stuck in the wood panel of the corridor wall. He wrenched it free and melted it over the servant's burned skin. "Get her to a healer!" he said to a second woman, who quickly led the crying chamber servant away. "We should wake up Ami of Mercury!" said one of the bystanders. Mamoru cut her off with a sharp sweep of his hand. "No one is to disturb Ami from her bedchamber during her rest hours! That is the new rule!" Suddenly, Mamoru heard chanting and looked down to see Rei's grandfather in his temple robe, waving his bell wand and hopping from foot to foot. The elder priest was so short, it was sometimes hard to notice him until he started making noise. But after jumping into one of his incomprehensible charm-dances, the old man stopped after a few hops. He coughed and wheezed to catch his breath, then shook his head and said, "This is a tough one. I'm getting too old for these kinds of battles. I'm going back to my shrine in Tokyo." With a brief but blinding flash of indigo, Rei's grandfather vanished, bells and all. Mamoru blinked. "I'll take care of Zoisite!" said Makoto. She stomped back into Zoisite's room, slamming the door screen shut behind her, which knocked a hanging basket of peaches from a peg on the corridor wall. Through the panels, Mamoru could hear a shouting match, then a crash that sounded like a breakfast trivet sailing through a clerestory window, the thud and splatter of flying peaches, and a shrill, demonic scream followed by sobs. He quietly, discreetly backed out of the south-west wing, deciding that this was not the best time for a visit. Mamoru found it comfortingly cool under the low, pine batten ceiling of his throne pavilion, which sat isolated between gardens in the palace courtyard. The panels of this simple, lone room were made of knotted koa wood that was so translucently thin, they glowed soft and pink under the midday June sun. Kneeling alone on the cushioned floor mat of his dais, Mamoru could gaze out past the covered verandah at a single juniper tree that wept over a pocked, gray stone. In the tokonoma recess to his right, the most vibrant spray of cherry blossoms Mamoru had ever beheld opened its petals, begging for his attention. He actually felt a queasy pang of guilt for not wanting to look at it. With a sigh, Mamoru thought to fill the silence with a melody. He shifted to fetch his flute from behind the dais, but upon returning to his place, he noticed Luna under the entrance lintel. "Not now, Luna. Can't you see--" "I must talk to you, Mamo-kun." Mamoru lay the flute across his lap as Luna stepped inside and seated herself before the dais, neatly curling her tail. "Urgent matters concerning this household," said the cat. "I'm listening." "Zoisite is most unhappy here." "Well," said Mamoru. "We're not exactly enthralled by her presence either." "She cries all night, and the little sleep she does get is haunted by terrors. She won't eat, and now, at three months along, she is starting to get the morning sickness. Sometimes quite severe. Ami now adds dehydration to her list of fears for Zoisite." "These . . . night terrors. Has Zoisite described any of them?" "No. Why do you ask?" said Luna. "N-nothing," said Mamoru. "Just curious to wonder what Zoisite could have nightmares about." Mamoru felt beads of cold sweat under his collar. "Ami always tries to ask her, but Zoisite refuses to tell, as if every night she faces an ordeal too horrible to share." Mamoru bit his lip and said nothing. "Then there are the thorns--" "You know there's nothing I can do about that without Zoisite's consent!" snapped Mamoru. "And I've tried every day to change her mind, every argument I can think of, and if she wouldn't be so damned stubborn--" "Mamo--" ". . . but she screams every time I show my face, and I don't know what to do about it, okay? I'm at my wit's end!" "Mamoru! No one is accusing you! There's no need to get defensive with me!" Luna hopped up onto the dais and rested her paw on Mamoru's knee. "I know you've tried to help. I've seen." Mamoru swallowed. "You, you've been in Zoisite's room?" "I am usually in Zoisite's room, although I'm not often noticed." "Oh." Luna's steady eyes shown like two yellow jewels. "I think, Mamo-kun, if I may offer counsel, that more sympathy for Zoisite might help." "Sympathy? She just threw scalding-hot soup on a poor, innocent chamber servant! I'm sorry, Luna, but my sympathy is wearing thin for that . . . that . . . " " 'Vicious, little fiend?' " said Luna. Mamoru felt the color drain from his face. He stared down at his flute. "Why is there so much hatred between you two, Mamoru? I know Zoisite deserted your guard and turned traitor, and I know you took the power crystals she had gathered for the second awakening of Beryl, but is there something else? You've never despised Kunzite or the other dark lords this much. And why does Zoisite carry such venom for you?" "I don't despise her," said Mamoru. "I mean, I know I said that, but that's just because she got me so angry!" Luna regarded him with dark silence. Mamoru started wringing his hands. "Look, I don't like seeing her in pain. I don't like seeing anyone in pain. Luna, isn't there something we can do? What about Usagi's scepter? Couldn't we just wave that Crescent--" "No one but Usagi is to handle the Crescent Moon Wand!" said Luna. "Then why hasn't she used it on Zoisite yet? I thought that thing could cure anybody." "It neutralizes evil." "Yeah? Isn't that just what Zoisite needs?" "Then what would be left?" said Luna. "Darkness is Zoisite's only strength. Steal it from her, and you leave her completely weak and vulnerable, with nothing to defend what little there may be of her heart. Such an act of good intention could ultimately destroy any chance of goodness in her. One sour look from Beryl, and Zoisite would fall lower than the meanest youma." "Then, then what can I do?" "Ask your heart," said Luna, turning to leave. "I don't have that answer. All I can say is that hatred divides a house, and a divided house cannot stand against the third awakening of Beryl." Luna padded noiselessly out of the pavilion and into the bright sun. Mamoru dropped his face into his hands. "Usagi," he whispered. "What do I do?" There were more meetings with officials, but they could wait. Mamoru had to see Usagi. Even if she didn't have any solutions, at least he could rest in her arms for a while. And maybe Luna was exaggerating; what could a cat know about the Crescent Moon Wand anyway? "You're a demon and a traitor," said the unsummoned, phantom voice. "Who would believe you?" * Makoto of Jupiter's hands felt like those of one who pulled rope for a living--rough and strong. Her right would swiftly ball into a fist that could strike like a rock. Zoisite was learning to counter her moves, but still took it across the cheek every now and then, as she had just a few hours earlier, after the hot soup mess. Makoto was almost as tall as Zoisite, had the same green eyes, and wore her hair in the same kind of pony-tail, with two locks curling down in front of her ears. When Zoisite had learned from the servants that Makoto had grown up unpopular, and had once been expelled from middle school for fighting, it made her blows (although still painful) easier to bear, as if Zoisite now shared some odd kind of bond with her. And Ami . . . Her cool hands were almost blue-white, soft as a lily petal. By a healer's instinct, Ami's gentle fingertips would always reach for hurting places. The look in her deep, dark eyes, which Zoisite had at first taken for scorn, was really the contemplation of one who sees through the contrived layers of what is commonly called truth and justice. "Stand up, Zoë," said Makoto, kicking the futon that spread across the corner of Zoisite's freshly cleaned room. "No. It hurts too much." "Don't be a baby. If Mamo's not going to let Usagi come here, then we've gotta sneak you out to Usagi." "She'll make you feel better, if only for a little while," said Ami, supporting Zoisite under her arms, trying to ease her to her feet. "We should have done this long ago." Zoisite tried to stand, to please Ami, but the thorns were now spreading into her legs, stabbing long needles of pain down her muscles. With a cry, she fell against Ami and sank to her knees, clutching at Ami's light blue tunic. "Mako-chan," said Ami. "You're going to have to carry her." "I figured that." "Isn't the tea pavilion outside?" said Zoisite. "Yes," said Ami, wrapping Zoisite in a large, pink kimono she had swiped from the laundry. "But don't worry about the sunlight. We'll keep you covered." Then Makoto hoisted Zoisite over her shoulder, while Ami peeked out into the corridor. Zoisite yelped because it hurt; every little movement hurt. "Shut up!" said Makoto. "I'm not a sack of rice!" cried Zoisite. Ami put one finger to her lips. "It's all clear. Let's go." Outside, as the three skulked along a hidden garden path toward the tea pavilion, Zoisite sweated under the full sun beating down like punishment on her. She could feel her scalp burning along the line of her parted bangs. "Ow! Oh! Cover my head!" "Sorry," said Ami, flipping a length of the pink kimono back over Zoisite's head. "Filtered light is okay, but--" "We know!" snapped Makoto. "Quit squirming!" Makoto shifted her load to the other shoulder, making Zoisite scream. "Shut up! We'll be spotted!" "Mako-chan," said Ami. "Stop glancing about; it looks suspicious." "And carrying a screaming, kicking person wrapped in a sheet doesn't?" "My feet!" cried Zoisite. "The bottoms of my feet!" "Sorry." Ami quickly covered Zoisite's feet. Through an opening in her silk shroud, Zoisite watched a procession of jagged paving stones stagger clumsily beneath her. They were slowly ascending, climbing around clusters of blooming azaleas. "Are you sure this is still a path?" "It's not often used," said Ami. "But hold on. We're almost there. If you look across the foot bridge, you can see the pavilion." "It's in a tree?" Zoisite squinted. They had been following along a natural ledge, and the narrow, wooden bridge before them led up to a structure the size of a child's fort, built in and around the branches of a large, gnarled tree. Through the flutter of white and purple catalpa blossoms, Zoisite could just make out sturdy walls of clay and timber, almost rude in simplicity, with a plain, low-pitched, thatch roof and only a few, small window openings. She recognized Minako of Venus posted outside in an orange and white guardian's uniform. For a senshi, Minako never looked very dangerous, with her sweet face and waist-length, blonde hair, but those who were fooled by her appearance soon learned. Zoisite had certainly been a quick study. "Halt!" shouted Minako-Venus, planting her staff in the foot of the bridge. "We've come to see Usagi," called Makoto. "She's doing the tea ceremony with Rei, and can't be bothered!" Zoisite peeked out from under her hood and met Minako's eyes. "Zoisite!" cried Minako. "It's about time you paid us a visit! Get in here!" As Minako slid the door open, Zoisite could hear Usagi talking to Rei. " . . . and then we add the chocolate-chip ice cream." "Ice cream? That's not part of the traditional tea ceremony!" "It's part of mine! Hee hee!" "Look who's here!" said Minako, yanking the sheet from Zoisite. "Sunlight!" screamed Zoisite. Makoto dived for the entrance, but tripped over a branch. The three tumbled inside, with Zoisite crumpling into the corner of the small, dark room. The pain of impact was so blinding, she could barely catch the breath to howl. Ami knocked the tea utensils into the ash pit, rushing over to Zoisite. "Watch it!" barked Rei. "Oh, forget the tea!" said Usagi, landing on Zoisite with a full-body tackle. "Oof! This is more important!" Zoisite felt as if spikes were poking out of her, until Usagi started passing her magical hands over Zoisite's body. Again, there was that delicious melting she had experienced back when she had first arrived. Only this time, the release was even stronger, more soothing. Usagi was pressing her palms over Zoisite's stomach, then up her sides and under her arms, over her legs and knees. "Sorry I fell on you," said Usagi, patting her own, swollen belly. "And you thought I was a klutz before!" Usagi was dressed more plainly now, with her hair up in the familiar "meat balls." "You, you talk differently than when I saw you last . . . you're more like your old, Earth self." Usagi shrugged inside her blue and red hemp-cloth tunic. "It's the clothes. I'm not wearing that ceremonial court robe. Besides, the longer we stay here in Crystal Yedo, the less power it has over us. Although I hope I'm at least a little less ditzy than I was back on Earth." "Same eating habits," said Rei, pulling a dollop of chocolate-chip ice cream out of her hair. "If you add pickles." She threw it at Usagi. "Hey!" "Where's the carton?" said Makoto. "I'm starved!" "In the ash pit," said Rei, "where Ami kicked it." "I didn't mean to." Makoto fished out the carton. "Looks good to me." "Give some to Zoë," said Minako, grabbing it away. "She could use it." Zoisite sat up. With Usagi so near, she felt well. Almost good. She liked this dimly lit, close space. "I've never had ice cream. How does one eat it?" "You lick it off the end of your nose," said Minako. She shoved her fingers into the carton, drew out a melting glob and pitched it at Zoisite's face, laughing. "Minako!" cried Usagi. Minako crawled over the soft, straw mat to Zoisite's corner and said, "Are you still hurting?" "Not right now." "Good." "Thank you." "I'm glad, Zoë. Wanna know why?" "Why?" "Because there's something I've always wanted to find out." Zoisite wiped a dab of ice cream from her eye. "What?" "Are dark lords ticklish?" Before Zoisite could put up her arms, Minako attacked. In an explosion of shrieks and giggles, they rolled across the floor, Minako's fingers everywhere. Zoisite squealed and flipped her over. "Stop it!" shouted Usagi. "Yeah!" said Rei. "You'll get Zoisite excited!" Minako released her trembling opponent. "Oh! That's right!" She coughed and caught her breath, turning to Zoisite. "Is it really true? Are you a double feature?" "Minako!" cried the others. "What? I'm just curious. Hermaphrodites are cool! They can dish it out and take it, too! Twin-cam, fully-loaded, dual function . . ." "Don't start!" snarled Rei. " . . . two-stroke engine . . ." "Someone's outside," whispered Zoisite. "I can feel him." Rei cocked her head, motioning for everyone to be quiet. Then she nodded. "Mamoru." Zoisite paniced. There was no place to hide. "I'll take care of him," said Minako, rising to her feet. "Mako, Ami, keep your heads in, or we're all in trouble." Through a crack between the clay and a timber, Zoisite watched Minako take the bridge. "Is Usagi inside?" called Mamoru from the other end. "Who wants to know?" "I don't have time for games! I have to see her!" "Sorry, cape-boy! This is the sailor-senshi clubhouse! No guys allowed!" "It's a tea pavilion!" said Mamoru. "Let me up!" "You'll turn around if you know what's good for you." Minako aimed her fingertips. "I'm the emperor!" cried Mamoru. "You wouldn't--" But Minako did, and almost took out part of the bridge. A dotted trail of scorched earth followed Mamoru's running feet. "You're gonna hear about this later!" Mamoru shouted on his way back down the path. Everyone cheered Minako's triumphant return. She sat down by the ash pit, stretched out her legs, and said, "This place is great. But you know, we should keep some sake up here." Ami gasped. "Never! Don't even consider it!" "You can't give sake to pregnant women, you goon!" said Rei. "I know that! I meant for me!" Ami stood up. "That's no way for sailor senshi to talk! I'm shocked!" "Well, look who's finally getting assertive," said Minako. "How cute." "We're older now, and we should be more mature." "And I suppose you're going to set us on the straight and narrow?" "Someone has to, and it might as well be me," said Ami, crossing her arms. "I'm as strong as any of you." "Is that a challenge, Merc?" Minako rose to her feet. "Hey!" cried Makoto, stepping between them. "Settle down! No fighting!" "Woah," said Usagi. "Don't tell me Makoto-Jupiter is going to be our peace-keeper now!" "Why not?" said Minako. "She's been kicking the shit out of Zoisite for the past three months; she oughtta have violence out of her system." Makoto swung around. "That's not true! Ami! Tell her it's not true!" "You do lose your temper quite a lot," said Ami. Zoisite watched the thrust-and-parry, fascinated. They were all slipping into their old, feisty Earth selves, just the way she had remembered them. Except that she had never seen Makoto burst into tears before. Makoto sank into a corner, sobbing behind her arms. And before Zoisite could wonder why she even cared, she suddenly found herself kneeling at Makoto's side, her arms wrapped tightly around the shaking girl. "Was that necessary?" she snapped at Minako. "Am I wrong?" said Minako, still in fighting stance across the room. Zoisite held Makoto's head to her breast and stroked her hair. "I'm not the easiest patient to feed, bathe and keep under control. I'd like to see any of you try to do her job." Relaxing her stance, Minako approached slowly and lowered herself to one knee. She cleared her throat. Her eyes suddenly looked a little more perceptive, with a dangerous gleam. "Now here's an alliance I never thought I'd see." She tentatively reached for Makoto's back. "Hey. I'm sorry about what I said." She grinned. "But if it's brought the two of you together, then I'm not that sorry!" She rocked back on her heels. Zoisite held Makoto with one arm and shoved Minako with the other, but she couldn't help smiling a little herself. She wiped Makoto's tear-streaked face. "You're all right, Zoë," said Minako, tossing her long, golden hair. "I always wanted you on our side. Back during the Second Awakening, you were the coolest! Remember when you disguised yourself to look like Sailor Moon? You filled out that little fuku better than Usagi ever did!" "A-hem!" said Usagi. Minako clapped her hands. "And the first time I heard you call Mamo 'cape-boy,' I laughed my ass off . . . or at least I would've, if I hadn't been too busy trying to save it!" Zoisite's smile faded as she considered what Minako had just said a moment ago, about belonging with the senshi. For the past three months, she had been slowly dying from the loss of Kunzite, with thoughts about what might have been. She didn't need any more aching despair in her heart. "But why haven't all of you returned with the Third Awakening?" continued Minako. "I mean, you and Kunzite are back. But Nephrite's still dead, and Jadeite's still a museum piece . . . " "I don't know why," said Zoisite, staring at the floor. Makoto's hands were now smoothing knots from her shoulders. "Doesn't it get lonely without the others?" "It's always been lonely. I was not friends with Nephrite, remember? And I hardly knew Jadeite before he was . . . stilled." Zoisite turned her face away and squeezed her eyes shut, stiffly determined not to start crying. There would be no point, and such losses of dignity and control were unseemly. But then she felt Minako's hand suddenly cradling the back of her head, and heard a soft voice say, "I'm sorry," the tears streamed down. "Don't," Zoisite croaked. Minako was stroking her back, and Zoisite trembled under her touch. It was too warm and gentle, too much like Ami. Against all sense of discipline, Zoisite let her body sink to the cushioned mat. The others were all gathered around her now with gentle hands rolling her onto her back. She couldn't stand it; after all she had done to them and to their loved ones, how could they be so kind? She squinted up at their faces through her tears. "I . . . I wish I had known friends like you . . . before." Zoisite swallowed. She hadn't meant to say anything so painfully honest, something she had never even admitted to herself. Usagi gave a nervous laugh, reaching her arm back over her head, as she often did when perplexed. "We weren't always friends, you know. We stuck together only because we had a common enemy." "You!" laughed Minako through her own tears. "Just joking. Actually, though, I wish we did have an enemy to fight right now. I'm restless for battle, if you can't tell." "Be careful what you wish for," blurted Zoisite before she could stop herself. "You might get your wish before the year is out." Silence gripped the little room. "What?" said Usagi, pressing her hand against Zoisite's chest. She dropped the nervous, little girl persona and resumed her role as empress. "When does Beryl plan to attack?" Zoisite gulped. There was no squirming out of this. Usagi was too powerful. Besides, Zoisite's sense of loyalty felt a touch blurry right now. "Beryl . . . had told us 'twelve months.' That was right before Mamoru brought me here. Oh, Gods! I've just committed high treason!" Makoto and Rei squeazed her hands. "Never mind that," said Usagi. "You have asylum. Twelve months, she said? Then we still have nine months left. That should give us plenty of time to prepare. I'm glad you told me, Zoisite." Zoisite closed her eyes and turned her head toward the wall, trying not to think about what Beryl would do to Kunzite in nine months, when his troops suffered defeat. But the senshi were all holding her now, caressing her and telling her not to worry, that she would have a place among them. PART FOUR Mamoru addressed the rounded backs of his seven top military councilors, who were kissing the floor at the foot of his dais. "I'm sorry to have summoned you from your homes on such short notice, and to call you here at midnight, but the news is urgent. We learned just today from an inside source that the third awakening of Beryl plans to attack Crystal Yedo in nine months. We should have sufficient time to prepare if we don't waste any of it." Embers in the hibachi stove filled Mamoru's throne pavilion with dim light and shadows, illuminating the iridescent threads of his counsilors' brocaded costumes. The full moonlight outside was strong enough to give the thin panels of the room a deep, violet glow. His glittering assembly awaited their orders heads down, and while Mamoru had tried to get used to kowtowing, enough was enough. He cleared his throat. "Um, I mean no disrespect to your traditions here, but meetings are handled differently on Earth, where I come from. I consider you my equals, so please, sit up and join me. Let's form a circle." Slowly, the men's eyes lifted, glancing furtively at Mamoru and at one another. They were men--older, more studied in the art of war--but they were clearly not human. Although they dressed like the Samurai of old, with their hair pulled back into topknots, their limbs were just a little too long, their faces too pointed and delicate. And their ears twitched. "I mean it," said Mamoru, climbing down off his dais. "I can't talk to your backs. I want a circle. This is a brotherhood of knights. Have you ever heard the Western legend of King Arthur?" Of course they have, thought Mamoru. They probably know the guy personally. After a few discreet gestures of protest, they made a circle, kneeling in the traditional posture that Mamoru was still trying to perfect. "You've always lived here in the upper realm, so you must know things I don't. Three years ago, Usagi fought Beryl and banished her to sleep in the Negative Universe." A round of bows and appreciative murmurs broke the stillness of the circle. "And Beryl woke up again about a year ago. But the last time this happened, she had slept for a thousand years. So how come now it's only been two?" Mamoru looked to the eldest councilor, a warrior from Crystal Osaka. The councilor raised his gray, but hairless face. "When Your Excellence fought Beryl's emissary, Zoisite, at the shipping docks, the police of Tokyo, how did you say . . . opened fire upon you?" "That's right. Almost turned both of us into Swiss cheese. You know what that is?" If the councilor knew, he wasn't finding it amusing. "Listen," said Mamoru. "Things are getting meaner down there. Two years ago, the Tokyo police never would've fired on a couple of college-aged kids fighting at the docks, even if they were brandishing magic katanas." "It is most unseemly for guardians of a people." "But it's not just happening in Tokyo. This shadow of brutality is falling over every major city on Earth." "And that," said the eldest councilor, "is why Beryl has reawakened after only two years. She hungers to feed on souls, and she smells easy prey." "If hatred, cruelty and injustice are as wide-spread on Earth as our seers tell us," said the councilor from Kyoto, "then the power of Crystal Yedo is all that keeps Beryl from sinking her fangs into the middle realm and swallowing it whole. Empress Usagi and the girl-child she carries are our greatest defense." More appreciative murmurs and bows. "The empress had not seen fifteen name days when she defeated Beryl," continued the councilor. "And she was yet Earth-bound, barely aware of her destiny as Empress. Now her power is like a yield of grain to the single kernel that it was then. And the girl-child promises a new, stronger stream of light. How does Beryl plan to get enough energy for victory?" "That's what I want to know," said Mamoru. "What about your 'inside source?' The one who told us that we have nine months. Can you get more information from this source?" "I think the info we got slipped out by accident. I don't trust this particular source for any more." Mamoru shifted his posture. Hidden inside his blue, brocaded girdle, jabbing into the small of his back, was the Crescent Moon Wand. He had made sure Usagi was sound asleep before taking it. He had to carefully hide its luminescent glow under the heavy folds of his costume, for even touching Usagi's wand was strictly forbidden to men, and the councilors would not understand. He swallowed back a sensation of guilt that burned like a low-grade fever, hoping that X-ray vision was not among the gifts possessed of these otherworld warriors. "We need to step-up our watch over Tokyo," he said. "Don't let any youma pass in or out of the middle realm, no matter how small." "Can the four senshi help?" said the councilor from Kyoto. "If they fought alongside Usagi during the Second Awakening, then they should know all about Beryl and the Dark Kingdom." "They're too busy now," said Mamoru. "Rei of Mars, as our priestess, has to keep the north-east shrine. Minako of Venus is Captain of Usagi's personal guard. And Ami and Makoto . . . they're all very busy." "But they'll have to join our forces when Beryl rises." "Of course," said Mamoru. "Defending Usagi always comes first." "I will send my reinforcement troops from the Snow Country," said one of the councilors. "And I will send my finest legions of Tengu warriors from Kurama Mountain," said another. Uh oh, thought Mamoru. Having lived for less than a year in Crystal Nihon, and seldom venturing from the confines of his palace, he had only known of the Tengu from his Japanese mythology school books. These winged, mountain goblins were said to be as unpredictable and independent as they were fierce, and Mamoru wasn't sure how close he wanted to get to a legion of Tengu warriors. But any help would be needed . . . "Arigato," he stammered. "This will be a most glorious battle!" "Uh, sure. You know, on Earth, we don't think of war as being glorious anymore. War is an ugly institution in which a lot of innocent people die. That's why we have things like The United Nations to negotiate peaceful conflict resolutions." "Our most excellent Emperor Chijba Mamoru-sama will honor the name of his ancestors and fulfill his destiny!" "Thanks. I'm . . . really looking forward to it." Mamoru's throat suddenly felt raw. He gestured to dismiss his councilors, with a round of obligatory words of gratitude. As the last one--the elder from Crystal Osaka--passed beneath the entrance lintel, Mamoru said, "Wait!" The "man" turned his lined face, his bat-like ears twitching. "Yes, Your Excellence?" "I've got a question," said Mamoru. "Something I've been wondering lately . . . about evil." "I know a little about evil." Mamoru was clutching the side of his girdle, trying to keep the Crescent Moon Wand from slipping out. "Tell me, is Beryl causing this rise in brutality in Tokyo, or does hatred and brutality bring forth Beryl?" The councilor smiled and leaned on his staff. Cresting waves swirled like real water across the painted hem of his silk robe. His arms and legs were bound in the deepest black cotton Mamoru had ever seen, and his silver hair, pulled into a topknot and fan, shined with the supernatural glow of clouds on a full-moon night. The councilor said, "Your Excellence, that question is older than all the kingdoms of all the millennia." Then he bowed once more, leaving Mamoru alone. Mamoru sighed, rubbing his forehead with both hands. "Destiny be damned," he whispered. "If Usagi and I live through this whole mess, I swear I'll never drop out of engineering school again!" After Mamoru was certain the courtyard was abandoned, he slipped out of the pavilion, padded noiselessly over the stones of the sand garden, and passed through a low crawlspace underneath a verandah. He emerged just outside the palace's south-west wing, pausing to brush sand off his knees and look around. Because of the peace within the realm of Crystal Nihon, there were no fortress walls surrounding the palace, only the invisible field of Usagi's magic, which extended just beyond the borders of Yedo and kept dark entities from other worlds out. Mamoru could gaze at the terraced foothills and valleys that rippled in concentric rings from the palace, as if he were a pebble tossed into a lake. But under the full moonlight, a heavy mist shrouded the land. Mamoru could not see anything beyond the few porch lamps of the small farming and fishing community that made up Crystal Yedo. He knew that to the south-east lay a sea, and to the far west were Crystal Kyoto and the mountains. But beyond that, it could be nothing but the ethereal mist of a frightened, young man's imagination, for all he knew. A land that had crystallized from clouds, existing nowhere in time or space, that would vanish again when its purpose had been fulfilled. Mamoru wondered, would he and Usagi return to a normal, mundane life on Earth when this was gone? Here, his young bride was the great, golden hope of the Universe. Back in Tokyo, she would only be another pregnant teen, still flunking her matriculations, barely old enough for a legal relationship in most countries. And what about Zoisite and the other followers of Beryl? Was Zoisite human, destined for a cycle of rebirths as Mamoru and Usagi were? Or was she more akin to the seven Samurai whatevers Mamoru had just met with? She looked like she could be either. Mamoru had seen people with fae features. He had once met a Korean kid who had a narrow, delicate face, and whose ears were slightly pointed. Sometimes the nature of reality was called in for serious interrogation. But the scar tissue from Mamoru's shoulder wound felt real enough. Mamoru crept along the outer edge of the palace, keeping his head below the window screens. He had not been able to visit Usagi that day, to ask her about healing, er . . . neutralizing Zoisite. Minako-Venus had dumped the news on him about Beryl's planned attack, and Usagi had been kept out of reach by ceremonies and meetings. Maybe she would've said "no" to using the wand, but what else could Mamoru do? He certainly couldn't allow any more hot soup incidents. This terrorizing of the south-west wing had to stop now. And even if the wand left Zoisite vulnerable, well . . . Mamoru glanced about, not wishing to need an excuse ready for why he was climbing into a clerestory window. He grabbed a cross timber and hoisted himself up the wall to Zoisite's room. If it was possible, as his eldest councilor seemed to imply, that evil brought forth Beryl, then evil could not be allowed to abide in his palace. That was that. What Mamoru was about to do was only his duty, like it or not. Once inside the room, however, he wasn't prepared for what he saw. Pulling the wand from the folds of his robe, its glowing crescent filled the room with a soft blue light. Mamoru's eyes were drawn to a picture, one he hadn't seen before. Lying on one of the mats was a brush-and-ink portrait of Ami, drawn with a tenderness Mamoru would never have expected from Zoisite. It was still wet. And on the futon in the corner of the room, he found all three of them fast asleep. Makoto, still in her day clothes, was draped over the end by Zoisite's feet, snoring lightly. Zoisite slept in a white night robe, looking almost peaceful but for a little tightening around her eyelids. Perhaps, thought Mamoru, her exhaustion was sometimes greater than her pain. But the biggest surprise was Ami curling around her from behind, with one arm cradling Zoisite against her breast. Had they always slept together like this? wondered Mamoru. Couldn't be, he thought. Something must've happened today. Then he started to remember . . . He already knew, in the shadowy recesses of his memory, that he had lived at least once before in a place like this, a thousand years ago. But he had not been the emperor then, only a prince. There were three men in his guard--Jadeite, Nephrite and Kunzite. The fourth, a pretty, little sakura, could not accurately be called a "man." When the entity named "Beryl" awoke from its frozen slumber in the Negative Universe, Mamoru's guard did not prove faithful. But before that, there had been pilgrimages to the faraway kingdom where Princess Usagi prepared for her destiny as Empress. There had been parties and dancing and romances . . . Ah, yes! Mamoru suddenly remembered, Zoisite and Princess Mercury had been lovers. The little sakura's masculine traits had been more predominant, and the pale, dark-eyed princess hadn't even known at first that he wasn't completely a man. But that was a thousand years ago! thought Mamoru. In a past life! And Zoisite had become a traitor, then a sworn enemy of the entire court, then the demonic terror of modern Tokyo! They couldn't possibly still have feelings for each other after all this time! Mamoru looked again at the drawing. He felt as if the portrait's eyes could see right through him. The hands looked warm enough to touch, and the kimono was slightly open, revealing a soft, pale throat under a shadow of a chin. With a deep breath, Mamoru turned back to the slumbering couple. He held up the wand to see their faces more clearly, but was careful not to step too close to the bed. He didn't want to awaken Zoisite's thorns. All he had to do now was draw a circle in the air around Zoisite and say the healing words. Then the nightmare would end, he thought. He raised the stick high over his head. It shimmered in his trembling hand. The soft, blue light deepened the shadows under Zoisite's eyes and cheekbones. A ray fell across Ami's hand, which rested on Zoisite's left arm. Zoisite's gaunt face looked drawn and closed, still pained. But there was gentleness in the curve of her upper lip, and a comforting warmth in the way she was snuggled against Ami. Mamoru hesitated. Teetering on the edge of a blade, he could fall either way. He stood poised, wanting to rid Crystal Nihon of Zoisite once and for all. So what if it weakened her to complete helplessness? At least then she wouldn't be able to fight him. He could live with that. But if she was left with no defenses, and the Dark Kingdom recaptured her . . . Rumor had it, there was nothing as horrible as what the Dark Kingdom did to its own. Mamoru felt frozen, unable to even bend his elbow. Suddenly, a noise startled him. It sounded like a cat brushing past his legs, vanishing into a dark corner. But he could see nothing. With a sigh, Mamoru lowered the wand. "I will not destroy you," he whispered to Zoisite. Then he slipped out through the sliding door and walked softly up the corridor to his own bedchamber. Entering the room, he found Usagi awake, sitting up on their futon. He could make out her silhouette against the moonlit window screen. "Usagi--" "A-hem." Usagi was holding out her empty hand. Mamoru pulled the wand from the folds of his robe and relinquished it to her. "I didn't use it." "Believe me, I would know if you had." "I'm really sorry, Usagi. I wanted to ask you first, and I knew you were up in the tea pavilion, but Minako wouldn't let me in, and then there were important meetings, and, and--" Tears were coming to his eyes. It wasn't a feeling he liked, but his pride wasn't strong enough to hold them back. Mamoru sank forward into Usagi's arms. "I . . . I never see you!" he sobbed. "Ever since we came here last year, it's been nothing but official duties, and I never get to spend time with my own wife! I know I never had many friends back on Earth, and now I've got people hanging all over me all day long, but I'm still lonely!" He was shaking, tears streaming down as he cried into Usagi's shoulder. "I'm so damn lonely . . . and I'm really tired, and scared . . . and I wish . . . I wish we had normal lives." "I've been wishing that since I was fourteen," said Usagi, holding him tighter. "You think it's easy being Empress of the 'Magic Kingdom?' I couldn't even handle being Sailor Moon!" Mamoru gasped, comforted by the strength in her arms. He buried his face into her long, soft hair and held still until the tears subsided. "What can I do about Zoisite?" he finally whispered. "The thorns have spread into her legs, and she can't even walk. I don't care if she's an enemy; I wouldn't put anyone through that. But if I can't use the damn Moon Stick on her, then the only other way to stop the thorns is to . . . um . . . 'close our estrangement.' " Mamoru cleared his throat. "You don't seem to have a problem with that." "Sharing you for a night? If it'll bring peace to the south-west wing, I can deal. Besides, I'll be there with you." "Huh?" said Mamoru. "Why?" "How else do you think you're gonna get close enough to touch Zoisite without making the thorns flare up? I'm the only one who can temporarily stop her pain; I'll have to hold her." Mamoru swallowed. "I didn't think about that. Of course. But it doesn't matter, because she won't consent to it anyway!" "She hates your guts," said Usagi, playfully tugging a lock of Mamoru's hair. "But there is a solution. If you want to change Zoisite's mind, you're going to have to pay a visit to the one and only guy who can make Zoisite do anything." Mamoru stiffened. "Fuckin' A--" he said under his breath. "That's not his name," said Usagi. "But I've called him that once or twice. Can you see him now, before dawn? He is nocturnal, after all, so he should be in a better mood than if you had to wake him up." Mamoru combed his fingers through his damp hair. "He's going to rip me a new--" "Hopefully, he'll be too concerned about Zoisite. They're lovers, you know, if that's allowed in the Dark Kingdom." "Really?" said Mamoru, glancing at the doorway. "I thought Zoisite still had a thing for . . . oh, never mind." Mamoru stood up and took Usagi's hands. "Listen, if I don't come back . . . " "You have to come back." Usagi grinned. "You still have to fulfill your destiny and save the Universe." "Yeah. That's right." Mamoru swept Usagi up into his arms and gave her a long, lingering kiss before laying her back onto the bed. Then he conjured a long-stemmed, red rose and tickled her chin with it. She giggled. "These things are so wonderfully phallic," she said. "What? Usagi!" "They are!" Usagi took the rose and held it in her teeth, striking a provocative pose. Mamoru smiled. Drawing a spiral in the air, he conjured a shower of rose petals over the bed, which always delighted Usagi. She fell back and laughed, reaching out to catch an armload. From the corner of his eye, Mamoru could see the moon outside the window screen. He still had a few hours left to visit Kunzite. There was no need to hurry. He removed his sword belt, let it fall to the floor most unceremoniously, and started to fumble with the ties of his brocaded coat and girdle. He hadn't been with Usagi in a very long, long time. * Mamoru teleported to the alley behind Crown Video Games. As usual, the colorful uniform he was wearing when he left Crystal Yedo had suddenly transformed into the trim, tailored, black and white suit that had earned him the moniker "Tuxedo" on Earth. He glanced up the alley, seeing no one but a rag picker who slept inside a wooden crate under the loading dock steps at the far end. It was almost four-o'clock; dawn was close at hand. Mamoru took a deep breath. "Okay," he whispered. " 'Courage lives not in the absence of fear, but in the facing of fear.' You can do this, Tux. It'll be all right." Removing the white mask that always accompanied his Earth transformation, he called out, "Kunzite! Kunzite, we have to talk!" Then one last time to seal the charm that would allow Kunzite to pull him into Jigoku. "Kunzite!" A black void opened under his feet, and for a second, he felt like he was being sucked down a gravity well through a drinking straw. Then he slammed against hard stone. Before he could sit up, the impact of Kunzite pouncing on his chest knocked him back. Kunzite seized his throat, long nails clawing into his skin. Mamoru saw a flash of silver eyes and fangs. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip you open and eat your heart!" Under Kunzite's stranglehold, Mamoru didn't have the breath to say, "Because it wouldn't taste good." So he merely croaked, "Zoisite." "What about Zoisite?" cried Kunzite. "What happened? Is he all right?" Kunzite's large hand was still gripping Mamoru's throat. Mamoru could feel his face reddening from suffocation. Then Kunzite's feline eyes, wide and feral, focused. He released his hold and slid his knees off Mamoru's chest. "How is Zoisite? Tell me! How is he?" Mamoru gasped. "She's not doing too good." Kunzite crouched over him, lips curled back from his teeth. The dark lord was panting. Mamoru could see fierceness tinged with genuine alarm. The sharp lines of Kunzite's face looked a little more gaunt than usual. Almost sunken. "Believe me," said Mamoru. "I wouldn't have called you if we didn't need your help. So please, for Zoisite's sake, get off me. Go sit over there." With a low growl, Kunzite slinked away. Mamoru watched him retreat on his hands and feet, like a wounded animal, into a tangle of feathered coverlets that made a kind of nest in the dark recess where his futon should've been. The warm, stone cavities of Kunzite's lair were littered with debris--bones and tufts of fur from unfinished meals, broken glass and noxious smelling puddles of chemicals. Apparently, Kunzite was not doing so well himself, thought Mamoru. The dark lord's lair, although never a pleasant place, had always been at least clean. And Kunzite's hair, once a shimmering mane of platinum that fanned over his broad shoulders, now hung in limp, dull strings. His skin had also lost its luster. Only his eyes still shined, like two flickering candle stubs reaching the ends of their wicks. His elbow poked through an unmended hole in his black, cotton shirt--clothing that just a tiny bit of magic should've been able to maintain. "What's wrong with Zoisite?" said Kunzite in a weakened, breathy voice. Mamoru removed the black cape and jacket of his Earth transformation costume. It was always too hot in the Dark Kingdom. He opened his white collar. "Um, how do I explain this? First of all, when I threw the rose at Zoisite, I never meant to hit her there." "You meant to hit Zoisite's heart and kill him," hissed Kunzite. "Self-defense. After chasing me through Tokyo, she was about to chop me into stir-fry." "Don't flatter yourself, little emperor. Zoisite has a very discriminating palate." "Yeah well, as I said, it was an accident. You see, my roses . . . um, are conjured from my life essence. So when they hit an enemy from your world, an opposite, the clash of essences is usually fatal. But you and Zoisite are not completely of this realm." "You will not speak of that!" roared Kunzite, leaping from his nest like a panther, landing on all fours at Mamoru's feet. "We are now of Jigoku! Completely!" Mamoru pressed his shoulders to the stone wall. "Fine! Just get back, okay?" He waited for Kunzite to stop growling before he continued. "When the thorns of my rose pierced Zoisite's female reproductive parts, my essence didn't kill her; it just got her pregnant. That's why she can't re-enter Jigoku; she's carrying an innocent." Kunzite sneered. "Is that what you call it?" "Zoisite's come up with a few more colorful names," said Mamoru. "But anyway, the rose didn't stop there. It's got another . . . side effect. It hurts to have a thorny rose growing inside your body." "What? You mean your rose is still there, inside Zoisite? It hasn't dissolved?" Mamoru shook his head. "Growing and spreading. Basically, she's being consumed within by thorns--not real, physical thorns, of course. If they were real thorns, she and the baby would be dead by now. Call them spirit thorns, if you want. They still hurt like Hell." "Little emperor," said Kunzite, laughing and shaking all at once. "You could never even conceive of the pain inflicted below Queen Beryl's audience chamber. Nothing hurts like Hell." "Sorry," said Mamoru. "It's just a figure of speech I learned when I went to college in America." "You should have stayed there." "I had to return. I'm Usagi's protector and partner. But about the thorns--they may be spirit thorns, but Zoisite still screams from the pain. And she can't sleep or eat, and that could be fatal. She's gotten very weak and sickly." Kunzite squeezed his eyes shut, as if fighting some pain of his own. "You care about this?" he said. "Yeah. I do. She's in my house, bearing my child, and to be honest, I wouldn't subject my worst enemy to what she's going through. So please, Kunzite, won't you help me?" "How can I help?" "Well, call them 'thorns of estrangement.' They hurt as long as Zoisite and I are essential opposites and enemies. There are ways to stop them; for instance, if I joined the Dark Kingdom, which I can't do, or if Zoisite completely renounced the Dark Kingdom--" "--Which he can't do," interrupted Kunzite. "Or if I 'healed' her with Usagi's Crescent Moon Wand--" Kunzite's eyes flamed with sudden rage. "If you ever try to use the Moon Stick on Zoisite, I will hunt you down and skin you alive!" Mamoru swallowed. "I'm . . . not planning to. But the only other way to close our estrangement is . . . um . . . " Mamoru could feel himself blushing. "Let me guess," said Kunzite with dark amusement. "Sex?" Mamoru nodded. "Too embarrassed to even say it?" sneered Kunzite. "Like a shy, little school girl? You're a pathetic excuse for a magic emperor. You never would have attained Crystal Yedo without being dragged by the train of Usagi's ceremonial robe." "You mean, riding on her coattails? I did my part fighting the second awakening of Beryl. Now you must do yours to help Zoisite. I have to join with her, but the magic only works if both parties consent. And Zoisite refuses." Kunzite chuckled. "Good for him." "No, it's not good. She could die, so you've got to change her mind. This is serious." Kunzite brooded for a minute. Then the corner of his lip turned up. "I could persuade him to take an obedience oath. Then he'd have to agree to anything you ask, for the duration of his confinement. I trust you would not abuse it." "You can trust my honor more than Zoisite's temper." Kunzite grinned. "That's true. All right, little emperor. Take me to Crystal Yedo, and I will speak with Zoisite." Mamoru rose and put on his cape and jacket, thinking, Kunzite is too cordial. Zoisite must never have told him about what I did back in the Second Awakening. Or Kunzite would've killed me long before now. "Stand close," said Mamoru. "I'll have to hold you in teleport." He could feel Kunzite stiffen as he wrapped his arms around the dark lord and pulled him to his chest. Then with a thought and a blinding flash, he swept Kunzite up out of Jigoku, toward Crystal Yedo. * "Should we wake her? Kunzite has been waiting in the receiving room for hours." "I know. But this is Zoë's first good night of sleep since she came here." Ami and Makoto's voices came from the same direction as the late morning light that was gently tugging Zoisite from sleep. Finally, sleep lost its hold, and Zoisite's eyelashes fluttered open. "Are you awake?" said Ami. "Get up; you have a visitor!" "What?" Zoisite rubbed her eyes. "We must get you bathed and dressed right away. He's been waiting!" "Mamoru? I don't want to see him." "It's not Mamo," said Makoto, easing Zoisite up from the futon. "It's a surprise. One I think you'll like." The deep sleep had been comfortable, and Zoisite wasn't ready to stir up her thorns with movement. She started to wail. "Hush now, and come with us," urged Ami. Zoisite wrapped her arms around Ami's neck and let herself be half-dragged to the bath down the hall. A while later, Zoisite was carried to the receiving room, where she had first awakened three months earlier. Freshly bathed, her skin was as pink and glowing as the layered kimono Makoto had procured for her. The attendants had twisted her hair into two shiny rolls, pinned to the top of her head. Her face was lightly brushed with color, her feet were rubbed and perfumed, and her toenails were even painted. "Go on in," whispered Ami. "We'll leave you two alone." Zoisite gasped. Kneeling under a prism band of crystal-filtered sun was Kunzite. He had plucked one of the bluish white blossoms from the vines twining down the cedar pillars, and was floating it in the low pool. Water trickled from fountains in the tokonoma, swirling around the little flower and making it spin. Before Zoisite had to speak, Kunzite's hand paused in mid-air, as if sensing her. He looked up and cried, "Zoi-kun!" She ran to his arms, ignoring the pain as he crushed her against him. Then he looked at her again, blinking. "Zoi . . . Zoi-chan?" Zoisite smiled. "I've changed." "I never would have thought you could be any more beautiful than you were. What are these?" Zoisite squeaked with delight as Kunzite, with one arm still around her waist, opened the front of her kimono and pressed his large hand to the swollen undersides of her newly forming breasts. "Beautiful." He bent down to kiss them. Then they held each other tightly, kissing for several minutes of sun-bathed silence. But Zoisite started shaking as bitter tears streamed down her cheeks. "Did you miss me that much, little rat?" said Kunzite between kisses. "Kunzaito-sama, I . . . I've committed treason! And now I fear you will suffer for my carelessness!" "But you could not help what that snip of an emperor did to you." "Not that. I told Empress Usagi when Beryl plans to attack Crystal Yedo! Oh, Kunzaito-sama! I didn't mean to! It was a moment of weakness, and her magic has such power over me! Please forgive me!" Zoisite squeezed her eyes shut, lowering her head and pushing her wet face into the laces of Kunzite's collar. Kunzite held her and tenderly stroked her neck. "I've warned them!" sobbed Zoisite. "And now our troops shall fail the ambush, and Beryl will have you punished! I cannot live if anything happens to you!" "When does Beryl attack?" "Why, in nine months." Beryl's chief general started to laugh. Zoisite stared up at his face, bewildered. "Your information is old," said Kunzite, rocking Zoisite in his arms. "We attack in four months. Change of plans." "What? How will Beryl get enough energy?" "I would tell you, little rat, but it is dangerous for you to know too much while in enemy hands." "Only four months? But--" Zoisite looked at her stomach. "Don't worry," said Kunzite. "You will be long gone from here." He glanced around, reached into his collar and drew out a small, glass phial on a silver chain. He quickly slipped it over Zoisite's head and touched his forefinger to his lips. "Poison," he whispered, "to kill the 'innocent' inside you." Zoisite's mouth fell open. "Mamoru brought me here to help him handle you--to persuade you to take an obedience oath for the duration of your confinement. He wants to have his way." "Kunzite! You wouldn't!" Kunzite snuggled closer, whispering into Zoisite's ear. "I'd sooner kill him than let him touch you. But he never will, because you will drink what I have brought, and by tonight, the parasite will be dead. Your confinement will be over, the thorns will have vanished, and you will have no need for Mamoru's bed." "Then I will fly back to your arms and your bed, and we will make love until the stars go out!" Pain flashed across Kunzite's face. "Not exactly." "What do you mean?" "Listen to me, Zoisite. Beryl thinks you are dead. If she finds out I was lying, she will have us both caught and tortured. Drink the poison. You'll have painful cramps for a few hours, but then you will be free. You will go to Earth, hide yourself, and start a new life. Remember the secret treasures of gold we left around Tokyo for just this purpose? Find them, and you will live well." "But you'll come with me--" Kunzite shook his head. "I cannot seek you, or Beryl will know. We will have to remain dead to each other until the day when I am also free from the Dark Kingdom." "But that will never be!" Zoisite wrapped her arms around Kunzite's waist and buried her face in his shirt, crying. "I can't leave you! I won't! I'd rather die!" "Zoisite! Zoisite, look at me! Do you remember what I taught you about being brave, strong and patient, and doing what you must?" Kunzite took Zoisite's trembling chin. "This is your greatest assignment--to be free. Do not fail me!" Just then, a herald announced the entrance of Emperor Mamoru. Zoisite's eyes were almost too blurry with tears to watch him approach. "Zoisite? Kunzite-sama?" said Mamoru, smiling. His cheerfully colorful coat was formal, but not too formal. More appropriate for a festival or celebration. "I don't mean to intrude and hurry you along, but I fear your absence, Kunzite, may raise suspicion in the Dark Kingdom." "There is no need to fear for me," growled Kunzite. "Arigato. But I . . . also wanted to see you do what I brought you here for." "Of course." Kunzite released Zoisite, who was unable to stop crying, and stood over her. "Remember what I told you," he said to Zoisite. "Remember everything. Now, are you prepared to take the oath?" Zoisite swallowed back her tears, glanced once at Mamoru, whose cheerful expression couldn't hide his apparent discomfort, then bowed respectfully to her teacher and lover, Kunzite. Kunzite conjured a green cloud between his fingers, and as he spoke, his words swirled into the darkening vapor. "The magic only works if you fully consent to it," he said. "So speak into the cloud. Do you, Zoisite, accept this oath to honor and obey Emperor Mamoru, until the time of your deliverance?" "I, Zoisite, willingly accept this oath to honor and obey Emperor Mamoru until the time of my deliverance." At the close of her words, the ball of vapor flared up and rushed at Zoisite, throwing her head back. She screamed. The green mist forced its way into her mouth and down her throat. Then she could feel it spreading through her, even to her fingertips, filling her with a strange, glowing presence. She could sense part of her once free will being clamped down under the manacles of Kunzite's powerful spell. And Mamoru held the chains. But from the corner of her eye, she could see the flash of Kunzite's wink. It would only last a few hours, she reminded herself. Then she would drink the poison, and . . . "I'm sorry to be so abrupt, but you must leave now, Kunzite-sama," said Mamoru. Kunzite bowed to Zoisite, pressing his lips to her hand longer and harder than what was seemly for court ritual. Then by waving a red rose, Mamoru opened a portal and sent Kunzite back to his own world before Zoisite could even say "good bye." Once Zoisite was alone in the room with Mamoru, she collapsed to the floor, breaking into tears. Mamoru cleared his throat. "I . . . well . . . maybe I should've given you and Kunzite another minute, but his visit seemed to have upset you more than cheered you." Zoisite didn't respond, except with more crying. "Really, Zoisite, I'm not heartless. I'm going to help you. After today, there'll be no more pain from those thorns." "Just go," whispered Zoisite. Mamoru stood for another moment, shifting from foot to foot. Then with a sigh, he walked out and left Zoisite alone. She lay quietly on the soft mat, unable to think of anything beyond the next few hours. The glass phial, hidden under her kimono, felt oddly cold against her bare throat. * Mamoru sat alone in his throne pavilion, trying to drown out that morning's events with a melody or two on his flute. But his heart wasn't in it, and with a sigh, he finally tucked the flute back into his sword belt and stared glumly at the juniper tree just outside the entrance. The morning had accomplished its mission, he told himself, so why did he feel so uneasy? Was it anxiety over the abrupt, almost cruel way he had dismissed Kunzite and separated the lovers before they could even say "good bye?" Mamoru looked down at his hands, almost too fearful to think about how he had acted. It was right after the sealing of Zoisite's obedience oath. Something had snapped, and a shiver of impatient hostility had passed through him. An odd, foreign feeling, it hadn't lasted long enough for Mamoru to question it, only long enough to make Zoisite more miserable. "You were a creep, Tux," said Mamoru to himself. "You could see Zoë was already in tears; why did you make it worse?" And why had Zoisite been crying, anyway? wondered Mamoru. What did Kunzite say to her? Perhaps Kunzite had been too forceful persuading her to take the oath and to sleep with . . . Before Mamoru could finish that thought, he realized just how impossible it was to imagine Kunzite telling Zoisite to go to bed with the emperor of Crystal Yedo, regardless of circumstances. In fact, the more Mamoru tried to envision it, the more ridiculous the idea looked. Kunzite, as possessive and passionate as he was, would sooner kill everyone than share his "little rat." Knowing Kunzite, it would've been much more like him to plot Zoisite's escape. Mamoru suddenly wished he had not left those two alone at all, for Lord Kunzite was known for treachery. Why had Mamoru been so trusting? Of course the dark lord would try to pull something. That's his job! But how could Zoisite escape when she wouldn't be able to re-enter her home or lose the thorns for another six months? --Unless, of course, she delivered prematurely . . . Oh, Gods! Mamoru jumped to his feet. Very prematurely! Of course! Mamoru half cried out, half moaned at the revelation that Kunzite's easiest, quickest way to get Zoisite back would be to help her lose the baby. And Kunzite hadn't been frisked. He could easily have been concealing a poison, or maybe he cast a spell. No, thought Mamoru. Such a spell would never get past Usagi's wards. But a poison could. "How could I be such a fool? Zoisite, no!" Mamoru bolted out of the pavilion and across the garden, not even taking his sandals. * Warm, wooden floor boards. Steamy air. The green scent of ferns and lichen. Zoisite had the bath all to herself. Seated at the edge of the pool, her feet in the water, she untied the borrowed kimono and let it slip from her shoulders. Underneath was only the "pendant" Kunzite had given her. Pulling the pins from her hair, she unrolled the tight balls she had worn that morning. Her fiery tresses tumbled down her bare back. Then she braced her hands against the tiled edge and pushed herself forward. "Uhh!" The long needles of pain stabbed inside for only a moment, until the hot water gently lifted her body into a soothing weightlessness. Steam rose from the roiling surface, as conduits from nearby mineral springs carried air bubbles along with warmth. She rested for a minute, half floating, closing her eyes and letting the water draw the tension from her muscles. The slow, melting release was a good thing on which to focus. If she could think only of how close and comforting the water was, she would be all right. But she knew she couldn't put it off forever. In the center of the bathing pool stood a grotto of rough, volcanic rock, where ferns and lichen hung like a rich, green curtain over the recess. Zoisite submerged herself and drifted to it, ducking her head under the hanging garden. She surfaced inside a small, hidden alcove of rock and greenery. Filtered sunlight poured down on her face from an opening above. But from outside the pool, no one would see her. The water, the soothing heat and fresh scent of ferns and mineral steam--this was all Zoisite had to keep herself from panicking. If she let that morning flood back into her mind, and listened again to her lover's final farewell, she knew she would break. No one could have the strength Kunzite was demanding of her. We will have to remain dead to each other until the day . . . "No!" came Zoisite's stifled cry, echoing up through the cavernous space of the alcove. She shuddered despite the water's comforting embrace, then broke into sobs. For several minutes, salty tears mixed with the spring-fed water swirling around Zoisite's naked shoulders. Finally, she straightened and gasped, "All right. I'll not fail you. I'll do as you say, and flee to Earth," although she had no idea how she would live down there. The grief was too strong to think that far ahead. After wiping more tears with the back of her hand, her fingers reached for the small glass bottle against her throat. First things first. * "Zoisite!" gasped Mamoru, finally reaching her room. "Is she . . . is she . . ." Makoto looked up from a drawing she had started, using one of Zoisite's brushes. "She's not here." "Not here! Is she with Ami?" "No; Ami sleeps this time of the day. Zoë's in the bath." "What's she doing in the bath?" cried Mamoru. "I thought she had a bath this morning!" Makoto shrugged. "She wanted another one. Is that a problem? She was so upset after seeing Kunzite, and the warm water soothes her nerves--Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Mamoru almost knocked over two servants, running down the corridor to the bath. He could hear Makoto shouting after him, but there was no time to stop. * "What took you so long?" whispered Zoisite, holding the phial up to her eye, looking through the dark brown liquid. "If you knew I'd have to leave you, why didn't you bring me this three months ago, and save me some pain?" She clutched the bottle tightly in her fingers and pulled at the glass top, trying to twist it open. "And this is for you, Mamoru." But just as the top started to give a little, Zoisite paused. For three months, she had wanted nothing more than to do what she was about to do. She had never once given any thought to the new life growing inside her. What made her think of it now? she wondered. Maybe it was Usagi, whose round belly drew the adoration of all Crystal Nihon. Everyone was so excited about that baby, every artist from here to Hokkaido was already painting the brat's portrait and composing epic verse for the adventures it would supposedly have once it was born. Usagi's heir, the golden enfanta of Yedo. Everyone--the court attendants, lords, ladies, guards and servants eagerly lay aside their considerations for respectful distance and vied for chances to rub Usagi's tummy. And Usagi, not being used to imperial customs, encouraged this breach of protocol. The only one who ever laid her hands on Zoisite was Ami. Zoisite hesitated. The bottle possessed a curious chill, as if she had just pulled it from the snow. What will Ami say? She looked at her body and wondered what it would feel like to be round and growing like Usagi, to have someone's hands caressing her belly--Ami's or Makoto's or . . . No, thought Zoisite, sighing. Kunzite would never see it. And he would never look into the eyes of this child who was not his, because Zoisite would push aside all these thoughts and obey him . . . now . . . She started twisting the glass top again. "Zoisite! Stop!" She froze at the sound of Mamoru's voice. She could hear him shoving the door screen open, his feet landing on the wooden floor boards at the edge of the pool. "Where are you?" Zoisite crouched down against the back of the alcove, barely keeping her nose above the surface. "I know you're in here! Are you hiding in the grotto? Hold on!" Zoisite tried to quickly unscrew the bottle and raise it to her lips, but her hands would not obey her. In fact, she couldn't move them at all. Oh, Gods! It's the oath! Then she heard a great splash that sounded like Mamoru jumping into the water, clothes and all. Indeed he had, looking like a drowning peacock in his soaked finery as he tumbled into the grotto. He pried open Zoisite's fist and snatched the bottle away, snapping the silver chain in two. "What is this?" he demanded. Zoisite shrank back and screamed, trying to cover herself. Mamoru's closeness was making the thorns sharpen into a hundred flaming knives. Mamoru was holding the bottle to his brow, eyes closed for a moment, as if using his powers to identify the nature and origin of the contents. "Kunzite gave this to you!" he said, looking down at Zoisite, who was screaming as hard as her lungs could push. "Get away! Get away!" "You were going to poison your baby! Well, I won't let you!" Just then, Zoisite heard Makoto running in. "Are you crazy, Mamo?" snapped Makoto. "You can't just barge in on a lady's private--What the Hell are you doin' in the water with your clothes on?" Mamoru leaned out of the grotto and tossed the bottle to her. "Just get rid of this! Zoisite and I have personal business!" "While she's buck naked in the bath?" "Just go!" "Awright, awright!" Makoto backed out. Zoisite had screamed to exhaustion, and could now only cry, still seized in the fist of Mamoru's command. Mamoru turned to her. "Ami and Makoto have gotten careless with you," he said. "But I know you can't be trusted. I first wanted this obedience oath so I could help you end the pain of those thorns. Now I see I'm gonna have to use it for something else as well." The pain was so intense, it dulled Zoisite's other senses. She helplessly gasped for breath between sobs. Mamoru raised his hand, and for a second, Zoisite thought he would strike her. But he held his hand steady before her face and said, "By the power of the obedience oath, which you willingly accepted, I command that you desist from trying to harm your baby or yourself!" Then he added, "And don't think about running away to Earth, because you are going to stay here, where we can take care of you!" Zoisite stiffened, sensing that now familiar feeling of her will being clamped down. But this time there was more. A sudden terror gripped her heart, and she felt a strange burning on her forehead that lasted a second or two, as if someone were branding her with a hot iron. Then she noticed something wrong with Mamoru. He was staggering back a step, clutching at his chest, his face also distorted with terror. And above his brow flashed a symbol Zoisite could've recognized anywhere. Again, it lasted only for a couple of seconds, but it was unmistakably the mark of Jigoku, the "ghost sign." "What . . . what's happening?" he stammered. Zoisite looked from Mamoru to her hands, then back at Mamoru. Inside, she could feel the thorns darkening, turning black at the tips. What had been only vague terror a moment before was focusing into hatred. And she could see a similar change in Mamoru's eyes. "What the Hell was that?" cried Mamoru. "Just what kind of spell did Kunzite give us, anyway?" "One he never intended you to actually use." Mamoru straightened, as if trying to recapture some lost dignity. "Humph! It still works, doesn't it?" "Quite well, I'm afraid," said Zoisite. "I hope he told you not to abuse it. Dark Kingdom spells have a tendency to . . . get out of hand." "But you'll still see me tonight," said Mamoru, splashing his way to the edge of the pool and climbing out. "Tell Ami and Mako to have you ready and brought to my bedchamber just after sunset. Then we'll do what we have to do, and I won't need to see you anymore. We'll both be happy." Zoisite watched him slop out of the room like a glittering, beached sea monster. Then she was left alone with a cold hatred that felt strangely more virile than anything she had ever harbored before the oath. It was almost like the uneasiness one senses shortly after contracting a bug, before any real symptoms appear. PART FIVE "Zoisite, quit your wailing! I just spent half an hour doing your make-up, and now it's all over!" "Hush, Mako-chan," said Ami, trying to coax Zoisite's hands away from her styled hair. "Let her cry." "But now her face looks awful!" "Then we'll scrub it clean and leave it. Mamoru doesn't need her to look like a geisha." Ami tugged at Zoisite's hands. "Please, Zoë. Leave your hair alone." "But I hate him!" shrieked Zoisite, yanking the lacquered combs out and clawing her carefully twisted rolls into red snarls. "He can burn in Hell!" Zoisite glanced around wildly for anything else she could smash or rip, but her sparsely furnished room had suffered her fury all afternoon, and by now there was not much left to destroy. Even the portrait of Ami she had just finished lay in shreds. "He's going to pay!" Then Zoisite shuddered and collapsed into helpless sobs. "Has she been like this all afternoon?" said Ami. Makoto nodded. "Ever since the bath. She screams, then cries, then wrecks something, then cries again." "You should have sent for me earlier." "Nah, you need your sleep. I figured you'll be plenty busy tonight. Once those thorns stop hurting, she'll be climbing the walls. The thorns are the only thing keeping her under control." Zoisite grabbed her light, summer kimono in both fists and ripped it from hem to waist, spitting on the mat. "Hey!" said Ami. "Stop that!" With unexpected strength, Zoisite lashed out at her with a blow that sent Ami tumbling backwards. Immediately, she cried, "Ami! Gomen! I didn't mean it!" Ignoring her pain, she scrambled across the mat and threw her arms around Ami's waist. All day long, Zoisite hadn't been able to untangle her rage, grief and fear. She felt like a boiling kettle of hurt, and her hand kept reaching up to touch a burning spot on her forehead, where hatred seemed to be concentrating. Ami was holding her, stroking her back. Her fingers were gentle, but her voice grew firm. "You must stop this display, Zoisite! Surely, Kunzite taught you to have more self control than this! You made your choice when you took the oath, now accept it!" Zoisite touched her brow again, sniffling and trying to swallow back her tears. "Is . . . is there something on my face?" "Just a lot of smeared make-up. Here--" Ami took a wet cloth from Makoto and scrubbed Zoisite's face. "Nothing else?" said Zoisite. "You look fine." A small drum in the corridor announced the arrival of Usagi. Zoisite looked up, at once relieved and fearful. The hem of Usagi's white, silk sleeping gown swirled around her bare feet as she stepped into the room. Her golden hair flowed freely down her back. "Ready?" she said. "Uh, not quite," said Makoto. Zoisite covered her ratted hair with her hands and grimaced at her ripped gown. Now she could add shame to her emotional stew. Usagi laughed, but it was a light, kind laugh, not mocking or hurtful. "You look almost as bad as this room! But that's okay. I'll give you one of my gowns, and we can work out those tangles on the way over." Then she bent down and smoothed her hands over Zoisite's trembling body. Zoisite instantly felt better as the thorns melted under Usagi's touch. "I'll be with you," said Usagi. "You know that, don't you?" "Ar-arigato." "It'll be all right." Usagi smiled. "And we'll travel in style!" The door panel opened wide, and eight attendants carried in a litter on long, bamboo poles. It was amply cushioned, with curtains of red, blue and gold silk hanging from gold rings on a jeweled canopy. "Hop in," said Usagi. "The easiest way to Mamo-kun is across the courtyard, through the gardens." Then with a wave of her hand, two of the outer wall panels parted, opening Zoisite's room to the outside. A summer evening breeze carried the flowery scent of Crystal Yedo's ever-blooming gardens, rustling Zoisite's torn gown. "I didn't know we could do that," said Zoisite, gaping at the sculpted landscape. "You can't. But as Empress, I can open any wall in my palace!" Usagi let an attendant help her into the litter. "C'mon! And bring a hairbrush, so I can work on those knots!" Zoisite hesitantly climbed in, then screamed when she saw a little animal poke its nose over the cushion. Usagi pulled the rabbit into her lap. It had royal-blue fur. "This is Bunny, my new pet. She won't bite." "Keep it back!" Zoisite cowered, being generally terrified of rodents. "Oh, that's right. You don't like anything related to mice. Sorry." Usagi tucked the rabbit into the corner. "She likes to be near me. Luna's probably around too, spying on us. Well, are you ready?" Zoisite curled into a cushion next to Usagi and drew her knees to her chest. "I want Ami with us," she said. Ami stepped back, shaking her head. "I would rather not. This is between Zoisite and Mamoru, and--" "I want her there!" cried Zoisite. "I won't go without her!" "Let up, Zoë," said Makoto. "I don't think Ami really wants to watch this." Panic flooded Zoisite's other emotions. Ami was her anchor, her ally. "I want her there! I want her there! I want her--" "All right!" said Ami. "I think you and Mamoru should have more privacy, but if you really need me, I'll go! That is, if it's all right with Usagi." "Sure, but you'll have to walk. This cab only holds two." "Mamo's gonna love having an audience," said Makoto, yawning. "But if Zoë can handle it, I'd rather stay behind and get some sleep." The attendants took up the bamboo poles, and the litter carried Zoisite and Usagi out of the room and across the courtyard gardens. "It's just like a festival procession!" said Usagi. Zoisite nestled in front of her, so she could untangle her hair. With the curtains drawn aside, they looked out at the winding, moonlit paths. The pale, blue light sparkled on the surface of lily pools and cast shadows beneath clusters of junipers and fruit trees. A breath of cherry blossom petals swept through the night air, tickling Zoisite's face. "You should come out to the gardens every night," said Usagi between brush strokes. You can sit on the rocks and let butterflies perch on your fingers. And if it rains, you find a pavilion, stoke up the hibachi, and make a kettle of tea. It's a little paradise here." "Who goes there?" called a voice from up the path. Then Minako of Venus appeared in uniform, staff in hand, apparently on watch, if such a thing was even necessary here. "Hail, Empress Usagi! Hail, Princess Zoisite!" Her bow was more playful than reverent. Usagi waved back. "Is that Ami?" said Minako. "Hi, Merc! Are we having a midsummer parade? May I come along?" "Certainly not!" said Ami, walking ahead of the procession. "I shouldn't be here myself." Minako laughed. "The more, the merrier! Hey, Zoë! Belt Cape Boy a good one for me!" "Minako!" cried everyone present. "Indeed!" said Ami. "No one thinks this is funny!" "Sorry!" With a laugh that was anything but apologetic, Minako disappeared back into the shadows of her "night beat." Not much later, Zoisite found herself in a quiet, master bedchamber of elegant simplicity. Immaculate white mats and white walls flowed into a verandah, where the rice paper screens slid open, joining room, garden and moonlight. Wearing a fresh gown, she sank into a deep, silken featherbed and gazed up at the ceiling timbers. "You okay?" said Usagi, kneeling behind her head and stroking her hair. "I don't know." Zoisite was shivering, despite the warm, summer night air. The little spot above her eyes burned, and she kept reaching up to touch it. "Does your head hurt? You don't look well." "I feel . . . strange. What's on my forehead?" Usagi pressed her hand over Zoisite's brow. "You're not feverish." She frowned. "But I do feel something . . . like a concentration of dark energy. It's probably stress, Zoë. Just try to relax." Mamoru entered from the verandah, dressed in a summer-weight, blue kimono printed with yellow bamboo leaves. Ami squeezed Zoisite's hand. Zoisite stiffened. Mamoru narrowed his eyes at Ami, apparently not pleased with the presence of an extra person. He said, "What are you doing here, Ami? Does it take two people to hold down Zoisite?" "It's gonna take more than that!" snarled Zoisite, bolting up from the large futon, fist ready. "Hey!" Usagi grabbed Zoisite and held her back. "No fighting!" "Who's fighting?" said Mamoru. "All I ask is a little privacy!" Ami tried to pull away from Zoisite's grasp. "I should go--" "No!" cried Zoisite, burying her face into the crook of Ami's arm. "Please don't leave me!" "Try to control yourself," said Ami. Zoisite started to cry. Controlling herself was not something she'd been able to do all day. And Mamoru's abruptness wasn't helping. Mamoru sighed, rubbed at a spot in the middle of his brow and sat down on the opposite end of the futon. "Fine! Ami can stay. Invite the whole, damn scout troop for all I care! Just please, please make Zoisite stop crying!" "I think you're the only one who can do that," said Usagi, trying to smooth the shivers out of Zoisite's back. Ami said, "If it would help, perhaps I could sit in a corner, where my presence will be less intrusive." "No!" Zoisite squeezed her tighter. "Stay here!" Mamoru wearily dropped his face into his hands. "Look. I can't do this when she obviously doesn't want it." Zoisite almost said, That hasn't stopped you before, but she held her tongue. It took a long time and much coaxing, but Usagi finally pried Zoisite away from Ami. "Rest quietly on your back for a while," she said. "Focus on your breathing." Then she told Mamoru to lie down beside Zoisite, but he shook his head and drew in his shoulders. Mamoru huddled at the edge of the futon, one hand over his face, blushing furiously and looking almost sick. His knees were closed tight, and he held his arms protectively over the front of his kimono. Part of Zoisite felt a little sorry for him, but her pang of sympathy was overpowered by a smug satisfaction at his obvious discomfort. "Mamoru," said Usagi gently. "Just relax; we've got all night." But Mamoru shook his head again. "I . . . I don't think I can do this right now." "What?" snapped Zoisite. "Why the Hell not?" "I just can't! Okay? It's not going to work! Do I need to spell it out for you?" "You don't have to holler," said Usagi. Zoisite sat up, no longer feeling as nervous as she had just a minute before. In fact, she was starting to relish this. "What's the matter, Cape Boy? Can't perform under pressure?" "Zoisite, be nice!" said Usagi. Ami just sighed and turned her back. Mamoru looked miserable, hunched over and staring at the floor, his face as red as one of his roses. Zoisite felt evil joy. Then an idea spread a smile over her lips. "Mamo-kun," she said, sliding toward him over the featherbed like a playful cat. "We just have to join, right? It doesn't matter how?" "Uh . . . what do you mean?" Mamoru raised his eyebrows. Zoisite twisted a lock of hair around her fingers and moved close enough to breath down the back of Mamoru's neck. "I mean, I'm not called Zoi-kun for no reason, despite my other features and all the new curves on my body." "What?" "Mine isn't very big, but at least it works. If you can't get it up, maybe I can." Mamoru jumped away. "You're crazy!" "You ever tried being on the receiving end?" said Zoisite, laughing as she drew one finger down the opening of her kimono. "You might like it." "No way! No friggin' way!" Mamoru stepped back from the bed and glanced around the room as if looking for something articulate to say. Zoisite could see beads of sweat on his bright, red face. "That's it!" cried Mamoru. "I'm outta here!" Then he stomped back across the verandah and disappeared into the gardens. Usagi sighed. "Zoisite, you're impossible! What are we gonna do with you?" Zoisite's gleeful laughter died quickly when she saw that Ami was no longer there. "Where is she?" "She got disgusted and left. You'd better call the attendants to carry you back to your room. Honestly, Zoisite!" Usagi rose to follow after Mamoru, shaking her head and trying to cover the reluctant smirk on her face. "Minako would've French-kissed a youma to have witnessed this." * * * * Back in her own room, Zoisite's merriment was hardly even a memory in the desolation that now replaced it. Makoto had gone to her own bedchamber, Ami was staying out in the corridor, not talking to her, and Zoisite's body couldn't decide if it was too hot or too cold. She had just thrown the covers off to the side, letting the moonlight from the clerestories cast blue stripes across her naked legs. But now Zoisite was shivering. And on top of that, the pain from Mamoru's thorns was slowly returning in Usagi's absence, spreading from her middle outwards. This night promised to be a long one. Just as she reached again for her comforter, she heard whispering outside her door. Then the panel slid open and Mamoru stepped in. Zoisite gasped, but Usagi appeared right behind him, with her finger over her lips. She was carrying a little, jade decanter with a lid, about the size of a rice cup. Mamoru had a dish of rice balls with seaweed and a tea kettle, and Zoisite suddenly realized she hadn't eaten all day. She eased herself up, watching them enter. Usagi approached first, setting her decanter on the mat. She knelt behind the pillow and placed her hands on Zoisite's back to melt the pain. Then Mamoru knelt before Zoisite, holding out the food. "We thought you might be hungry," he said. "It's been a long day for all of us." Zoisite regarded the offering, afraid to take it, but Mamoru nudged it forward. "Are you trying to be nice to me now?" said Zoisite. "I still have to help you. I must admit I was pretty shocked and embarrassed. What you suggested tonight was not something I ever would've considered. But I've thought about it, and if you're not comfortable doing this any other way, then . . . then let's do it as you suggested." "Huh?" Zoisite blinked. Had she heard right? "Now, please eat something. You'll need your strength." Mamoru rose from the floor to sit close beside her on the futon. His heavy, black hair and dark eyes looked almost violet in the moonlight, which played on his lashes and cheekbones. He gently took Zoisite's hand and placed a rice ball into it. Zoisite suddenly felt flooded with all kinds of emotions she could neither untangle nor face. Her cheeks burned. "You are hungry, aren't you?" said Mamoru. Zoisite stared into her hand, unable to move. Finally, Mamoru curled his fingers around hers, and lifted the food to her lips. "Eat," he said. Zoisite didn't know if it was the obedience oath that compelled her to open her mouth and let Mamoru feed her. But once she finished the rice ball, hunger took over, and she devoured the next one, also from Mamoru's fingers. Then another, and another. She closed her eyes as he brought a steaming cup of sumac tea to her lips, his other hand on her back. She opened them again after the last swallow. Mamoru's hand was still on her, and his eyes were as serious as they were gentle. She wondered, did he have a heart, after all? She couldn't recall ever having seen him like this . . . except perhaps in some long forgotten dream. Very long forgotten. "Well?" he said. "What's in Usagi's decanter?" said Zoisite. "Oil." Zoisite gulped. Her gaze dropped to her lap. "You want to be the man?" said Mamoru. "It's all right, if that's what you want." Zoisite was acutely aware of his hand. She could sense each fingertip slipping lower down her back, but stopping before it became improper. She felt the warmth of his thigh against hers, and she started to ache inside--not with the pain of thorns, but with the hunger Kunzite gave her during intimacy. Zoisite hated to admit it, but she was growing warm between her legs. And for her, made as she was, things could get obvious very quickly. She drew her knees together and covered herself with her hands. Fortunately, there was not much to cover, even when excited. "No," she whispered, unable to look up from her lap. "I don't want to be the man. Not when I'm with another man." "Then, shall I?" Zoisite nodded. All her conflicting feelings were bubbling to the surface. Just when she felt ready to burst, Mamoru pulled her into his arms. His embrace was as tight and secure as when he had first swept her up to Crystal Yedo. But these were the same arms that had fought her and hurt her so many times on Earth. Three years ago, during the Second Awakening, these arms had once pinned Zoisite down to a rough slab of concrete in a Tokyo alley, and . . . But there had been no witnesses, and in her shame she had never told anyone, especially not Kunzite. "No!" said Zoisite, squirming away. "I can't!" "Easy now," said Usagi, catching her from behind. "He's not going to hurt you." Usagi held Zoisite's arms back, letting Mamoru study her face. He looked concerned, and Zoisite wondered how much he remembered. Frowning, he slowly drew his fingertip along the little scar over Zoisite's left cheek--a scar he had made three years ago with one of his roses. Then he bent down and kissed it. Zoisite trembled, burning with the pain of old wounds, yet deeply wanting him. Soon Zoisite was on her back. Mamoru stretched out beside her, curling his arm behind Zoisite's head and resting one long, slim leg over her right knee. But when he touched her, just above her navel, she shivered. "I'm cold!" she said, as tears welled up again. He drew the comforter over her and snuggled closer. The heat from his body relaxed her a little. "Please don't cry," whispered Mamoru into her ear. Usagi, who was still kneeling behind her, stroked her hair. Zoisite lay still, caught between resentment and desire, as Mamoru opened the front of her kimono and caressed her small breasts. Her contours were still so new, so sensitive. She wondered if they were enough for him. Mamoru was nuzzling her cheek, eyes closed. She felt his lips on her earlobe, her forehead, then back on her scar, as if he were trying to heal it with warm breath. Then he finally kissed her on the mouth, tentatively at first, then harder. His fingertips traced the line of her jaw, then slipped down to her throat and collarbone, continuing over her shoulder, arm, elbow. Keeping his mouth on hers, he took the swells on her chest again, then followed the boyish curve of her hips and legs. She couldn't stop herself from touching him back, and soon their arms were wrapped around each other, stroking, seeking each other out. Then Mamoru's fingers slipped lower, and his hand grasped firmly around something Zoisite never thought he would dare touch. She screamed. "Did I hurt you?" said Mamoru, letting go. "No, no! That feels good. I just didn't expect it." Mamoru smiled and held it again, as Zoisite reached over to return the favor. "Ready?" said Usagi, offering the decanter. Zoisite yelped at another unexpected touch from Mamoru. "I don't think we'll need that," he said, drawing his finger away. "She's got plenty of her own." The young emperor wasn't as heavy as Kunzite, who never lay on Zoisite with his full weight unless she asked for it. He wasn't as big, either, but Kunzite sometimes hurt. Twice, Mamoru had to tell Zoisite to relax, and there was some weak protesting he had to calm, but their union was surprisingly smooth. Zoisite was amazed how good it felt. Despite her need, she had feared she wouldn't be able to open up, considering her conflicting feelings. But after a few minutes, she even began to moan a little. The strangest part of it all was the thorns. Zoisite could feel the tip of each thorn ignite and flicker, but they didn't vanish, as she had expected. Instead, they transmuted into a simple, lingering presence that seemed to tickle more than hurt, like soft rose petals. The tension slowly rising in Zoisite's muscles sparked a twinge of fear and reluctance to let Mamoru carry her too far. Usagi, who was still holding her, must've sensed it, because she leaned over and whispered, "Let it happen, Zoë." Zoisite brought her knuckle to her mouth and bit hard. This wasn't a victory she wanted to concede to Mamoru. But while she struggled against it, she also started to push with him, and soon her arms were strapped around his back and she was saying things she knew she would resent later. It was clear to her Mamoru didn't love her, didn't even like her. And this made her feel painfully helpless, knowing that her ecstasy meant nothing more to him than a confirmation of his power. Minutes later, they lay gasping and wet. Usagi rose and said, "I'll leave you two alone." She padded noiselessly out of the room. Zoisite gave a little cry as Mamoru pulled away and rolled onto his back beside her. "I can't believe you actually grabbed me there," she said, trying to smile. "You were having trouble, and I knew it was the only way to push you over the top." He lay still, arms crossed over his bare chest, staring at the ceiling. Zoisite squirmed under the coverlet. Her throat felt swollen, in advance of tears. "The thorns don't hurt anymore," she said, wondering if Mamoru could hear the crack in her voice. "They shouldn't." Mamoru rubbed a spot on his forehead. "That wasn't so bad." "Not bad enough to justify the three months of foolishness we've gone through." Suddenly, the few inches between them felt like an ice field. Zoisite tried to nuzzle Mamoru's side, but he only responded by rubbing his forehead. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Really, it was better than I thought it would be. You were . . . gentle." Zoisite sighed. She knew when tears couldn't be held back, and these would flow as soon as she opened her mouth again, but she had to say it. "Mamoru--" "Hmm?" "Mamoru--" Zoisite started to tremble. "What?" said Mamoru, not even trying to hide his impatience. "Would you . . . I want to be held now." Something was definitely distracting Mamoru as he propped himself up on his side. He looked as though he had a headache, and an odd darkness fell like a winter shadow over his expression. "Gods, you're demanding!" he said. "Don't you realize I haven't slept in two days? I'm tired! Besides, I've got a wife to cuddle, and she's been more than generous tonight! You got what you needed, didn't you?" Zoisite started to cry. Exasperated, Mamoru sat up. "I'm glad it's over, because I can't take anymore!" He climbed off the futon, tied his kimono and returned to his own bedchamber, leaving Zoisite to cry alone. That the thorns didn't hurt was a cold comfort as Zoisite tossed and turned. Finally, she got up and left the room to find Ami keeping watch in the corridor. She tumbled into Ami's arms, sobbing wretchedly. "Zoisite, please! I can't be everything for you! I saw how you behaved toward Mamoru back in Usagi's chamber, and you were positively obnoxious!" "I dont care!" "That's the problem," sighed Ami, removing Zoisite's clutching fingers from the front of her gown. Zoisite looked up, distressed at Ami's stern tone. "Are you going to push me away? Don't tell me you've got the mark of Jigoku too!" "What? Don't be ridiculous! No one in Crystal Yedo bears the ghost sign, except maybe you, Zoisite." "But Mamoru's got it! I saw it on his forehead today, in the bath!" "You're being hysterical," said Ami. "I hate him!" "We all know that." "I mean, I hate him more!" "Was that even possible?" "I do!" cried Zoisite. "And now that I can move around without hurting, I'm going to make him pay!" "Pay for what?" "For . . . for . . . " Zoisite clenched her fists. "C'mon," said Ami, hauling Zoisite to her feet and herding her back into the room. "Let's go to bed. I'll cuddle you. Tomorrow's a new day, and we're not going to shred anything or bite anyone, are we?" Zoisite sniffed. "No." "Good girl." They climbed into bed, Zoisite pulling Ami's arm around her. "But I hate him!" she shouted to the darkness. "Then promise me you will stay away from him and not let it get out of hand." Zoisite fell silent. This was not a promise she could make. PART SIX Queen Beryl knows how I fear to look upon Jadeite, thought Kunzite. And that is why she keeps him here, in her audience chamber. Kunzite gazed up at a clear crystal the size of a coffin standing on end. Trapped inside, Jadeite's beautiful, pale features were twisted in pain and terror, his fingers still clutching, frozen. "Look at him," said Beryl, touching the crystal and feeding off the dark energy of Jadeite's perpetual agony. "What a lovely face. Those golden curls, that trim uniform. He promised so much, and delivered only disappointment. But I think I like him better this way. Mine to have and hold forever." Beryl drew her spiny fingers over the glassy smoothness. Each facet was perfect, like a cut gem. She turned to Kunzite. "But you have grown careless in appearance. Where is your vibrant energy? Your pride? Sparks used to fly from you, Kunzite. Look to your grooming, so you can be like Jadeite here. I want only things of beauty surrounding me." She flicked her serpentine tongue over her fangs. Kunzite swallowed. "How may I be of service, Most Honored One?" "Tell me how Zoisite's 'enfanta' spell is progressing." "I believe I have finally perfected it," said Kunzite, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Good. There's been another change of plans. By word of the stars, the rabbit, Usagi, will litter prematurely. Her enfanta will come on the eighth month, not the ninth, so we must be ready." "What about our planned attack on Crystal Yedo?" "Everything will move up a month," said Beryl. "The attack of October will now be in September. Prepare your troops. With Usagi's enfanta in my possession, we will have more than enough energy for victory." "The enfanta spell is complete, my troops can be prepared, but . . ." "But what?" hissed Beryl. "Usagi's protection ward is very strong. Nothing of Jigoku can breach it. The spell cannot reach Crystal Yedo, much less strike the palace." Rippling the edges of her blue gown, which clung to her body like a sheath, Beryl glided around the crystal prison and drew up close to Kunzite. She could've made an attractive human, he thought, with her tall, regal bearing, her voluptuous lines and the coppery brilliance of her tresses. But that reptilian face! Kunzite looked down, avoiding her eyes. "There is always a way," said Beryl, breath like hot sulfur. "To crack a crystal, one must find a fissure to drive in the wedge. Even the truest crystals have impurities. Somewhere in Usagi's palace, there must be a source of darkness. Perhaps there are two people in her court who hate each other. I'm not talking about mere annoyance; I mean deep, intense hatred, the kind that festers from an ugly, wounded past. Find this source of darkness, and you will have your fissure to drive in our spell." "But how can I?" said Kunzite. "My youma spies cannot enter Crystal Yedo." "How you do it does not concern me. Just find that hatred, or else . . . " Beryl didn't need to finish her sentence with Jadeite at her side. "One more thing you should know," she said. "I've woven a lock into your mind, so that as soon as you discover what we need, I shall be instantly informed. You are dismissed, Lord Kunzite." Don't worry, Kunzite told himself as he passed through the dark corridors back to his chambers. Zoisite is out of there . . . She'd better be out of there! It had been over a month since he had given Zoisite the poison to secure her freedom, and it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep from running to Tokyo to find her. He wanted to see Zoisite more than anything, just to know she was alive and safe, far from Crystal Yedo. But the risk of getting caught was too great, and his peace of mind was not worth the price of Zoisite's soul. Still, he thought. Zoisite's murderous spell would be cast in only four weeks! And the little rat knew nothing about it! If there was any chance she was still in Usagi's palace, if she had failed his instructions, he had to know! Kunzite ducked inside his chamber, leaned against the stone wall for support and shook for a couple minutes, which he usually did after meeting with Beryl. Then he raised his eyes to the ceiling. He knew, against his better judgment, that he would go to Tokyo. The mission to scope out sources of darkness was too handy an excuse. Perhaps Zoisite had left some subtle mark for him to find. Or, Kunzite could check the hidden treasure reserves and see if they had been tapped. If nothing else, thought Kunzite, Mamoru/Tuxedo Kamen might even be lurking about. That snip of an emperor could tell him what he needed to know. After using some of his precious, dwindling energy to freshen his appearance, Kunzite opened the portal to Earth and departed for lowertown Tokyo. * "Usagi's back," said Makoto. "Chibi must be sitting right on her bladder, 'cause this is the third time she's gone since this festival started." Minako-Venus was helping Usagi ascend her dais, carrying the glittering train of her festival robe. Cloud cover had blessed the middle-summer Fertility Festival, so Zoisite was able to go. And if the hot, July sun did peek through, Usagi's court was sheltered under the thatch roof of a small, wooden pavilion that stood just above the reveling crowd. As Usagi settled herself, four attendants raised red, paper lanterns on bamboo poles over her head. She was decked out in full ceremonial costume: layered, red kimonos, jeweled headdress, a red, silk train, and rubies hanging from her ears and around her throat. Minako was also in festival garb-- something between a traditional Samurai coat and a cheerleading outfit. She kept interrogating Usagi and looking back at Zoisite. "Thorns?" cried Minako. "She's got thorns growing inside her?" Minako turned. "Hey, Zoë! Are you having a baby, or a rosebush?" "Both," answered Zoisite. "But the thorns don't hurt anymore." "Even so! Can't we find a surgeon to take them out?" "They're not real thorns!" said Usagi. Minako paused, obviously a little confused. "O-kay," she said, scratching her nose. "And I thought I had a bizarre fantasy life!" All the elfin-looking people of Crystal Yedo and the surrounding farms were crammed into the palace gardens to celebrate life with dancing, drumming, wild costumes and food. A giant, undulating dragon puppet reenacted the birth of the princess dragon of Kyoto. Actors with painted faces and wooden katanas staged legendary battles of ancient shoguns. Makoto, stuffing her face with squid, waved to Rei, who was presiding over the ceremonial rice garden with her grandfather and the miko priestesses. Even Ami made a little noise now and then. But all those happy people only depressed Zoisite. "What's with the black kimono?" said Minako, ruffling Zoisite's hair. "Who dressed you in that?" "I did." "You've been wearing nothing but black since Mamo boinked you last month. When are you gonna give it a rest?" October, when Beryl attacks, thought Zoisite. Minako pleaded with Ami. "Can't you do something?" "I'm not her mother," said Ami, crossing her arms. "I don't tell her how to dress." "But you don't wear black to a fertility festival!" "Sorry," said Zoisite. "The attendants wouldn't give me anything red." "That's true," said Makoto. "In fact, they were kinda mean about it." Minako frowned. Just then, dancers approached with bright red banners, red lanterns and a painted red chair on bamboo poles. They beckoned for Usagi. With a great deal of giggling, she rose from her dais and let the attendants help her into the chair. Then the dancers carried her to the center of the courtyard, leading a procession of drums, flutes, bells and costumes. "Hey!" cried Minako. "They forgot Zoisite!" "They didn't forget her," said Makoto. "They're ignoring her." Minako pounded her staff against the wooden platform and shouted, "Come back! Yo! Dancers! Yeah, you guys in the funny hats! Excuse me, but our Most Excellent Emperor has got two pumpkin vines, not just one! Or can't you count that high?" "It's all right," said Zoisite. "No, it's not! This is bare-faced discrimination, and I can't stand it!" Zoisite was absently pulling petals off a sprig of azaleas she held in her lap. "Face it, Minako. My kid's an unwanted bastard." Minako took Zoisite's chin. "Just because some back-assward, piss-poor excuse for a cultural tradition hands you a label, doesn't mean you have to take it!" "But it's true. And I don't really care, because I don't even want this baby. The only reason I'm still pregnant is because Mamoru's controlling me with an obedience oath." "I heard about that." "The whole palace knows about it," said Zoisite. "And that's why they won't have anything to do with me. Not only am I 'Negatrash,' I'm a would be baby killer." Minako turned to Ami. "What do you think?" "You mean about what happened last month in the bath?" said Ami. "To be honest, I'm glad Zoisite didn't succeed, although I would not have judged her if she had. I hate to see anyone forced so unwillingly into motherhood." "But if you have to go through with it," said Minako, resting her hand on Zoisite's shoulder, "at least we can honor you. Get up and sit on the dais." "What? I can't sit in Usagi's place." "Usagi is shakin' her stuff down on the dance floor. She won't mind." Minako pulled Zoisite to her feet and practically carried her to the little, wooden throne. "Sit . . . Not like that. Sit properly; you're important. Now for some color--" Minako pulled down a red, silk banner and draped it over Zoisite's shoulders. Then she plucked some hibiscus blossoms from a nearby shrub and made Zoisite a crimson crown. Last, Minako swiped two red, paper lanterns from the lintel and hung them overhead. An officious attendant broke from the drums and dancing to march toward them, wagging his finger. "No red lanterns! No red cloth!" "You got a problem, buddy?" said Minako. "No red lanterns! No red cloth! What are you doing?" "We're honoring birth and fertility." "We are honoring birth and fertility!" barked the attendant, gesturing toward Usagi. "Give me those lanterns!" "Would you deny red to our emperor's own mistress, who shared his bed and carries his child?" "His mistress?" murmured Makoto. "Oh, sure." The attendant paused, suddenly looking uncertain of his position. "You set one, shod foot in this pavilion and violate the sacred space of Empress Usagi's personal court, you'll have to deal with me!" The attendant backed off. Minako turned and straightened Zoisite's new robe. "You deserve to enjoy the day." Zoisite sat, glumly admiring the beautiful silk Minako had wrapped her in. She could vaguely remember growing up a thousand years ago and dreaming as a child that one day she would preside over a royal matsuri, dressed in sumptuous, red silk, with red lanterns over her head. But somehow, reality wasn't as happy as her perfect fairy tale had been. "Smile, Zoisite!" said Makoto. "Usagi is waving to you! And look, Mamo-kun came out of his tent! Let's all make faces at him. You too, Ami." Makoto and Minako made monster faces at Mamoru. Zoisite stuck out her tongue, but withdrew it in a flash. "He smiled at me!" she said, balling her hands into fists. "That's because you look cute up there," said Minako. "But he has no right to think that!" "You two need to stop feuding, and learn to get along, because when we kick Beryl's butt this winter, you'll be living on our side of the tracks." This winter? thought Zoisite. There isn't going to be any winter here. After October, Crystal Yedo won't even be a memory. "Hey, Zoë," said Makoto. "Are you getting sick again? You look a little green." "I, I'm fine! Leave me alone! I don't need everybody fussing over me!" Zoisite stood up. "I have to talk to Mamoru." "Can't it wait?" said Makoto. "You hassled him twice this morning. Give the guy a few minutes of peace." "I said, I have to talk to him!" Zoisite threw aside the red banner, leaped off the dais and snatched up her sandals. Then she grabbed one of the pine pitch torches burning at the edge of the dancing circle and parted the crowd. "That's right!" she snarled, striding across the courtyard in her solid black kimono, sweeping her path with the flaming torch, waving it before the frightened faces of celebrants. "I'm the big, bad demon, Zoisite! So you'd better make way!" Mamoru's guards blocked her entrance to his tent. "Let her through," said Mamoru. "She's with me." But before Zoisite could shove past him, he stopped her by drawing a red rose from his sleeve. She jumped back a step. "Ah-ah," he said, pointing at Zoisite's feet. With a growl, Zoisite bent down and removed her sandals. Mamoru pointed at the torch and said, "No weapons, either." Zoisite reluctantly placed the torch into a nearby lampstand. Then Mamoru pulled her inside, closing the entrance flap. "We're having a festival!" he said. "Don't you ever lighten up?" "Hmph! Some festival! I love being treated like a pariah by your subjects." "You reap what you sow." Zoisite seized Mamoru's collar. "Don't talk to me about sowing and reaping!" she said, grabbing his hand and placing it over her stomach. "I didn't sow this, flower boy!" "I like your crown." "What?" Zoisite had forgotten about the wreath of hibiscus blossoms in her hair. She reached up to yank them out. "Leave 'em," said Mamoru. "They suit you. And if you're asking me to talk to Kunzite, my answer is still 'no.' " "This isn't a request! You must go down to Tokyo and tell Kunzite that I'm still here!" "Why should I tell him that his little abortion scheme didn't work? So he can try another one?" "Don't be a hypocrite and act as if anyone really cares about this baby! Your attendants wouldn't even grant me a lousy, red lantern!" "That wasn't by any edict of mine," said Mamoru. "They're still your attendants!" "I'll talk to them." "Don't bother," said Zoisite. "Minako took care of it." "Then why don't you go back out there and enjoy yourself? Who cares what my attendants think? Hang a dozen damn lanterns over your head." "I'm not leaving this tent until you promise to talk to Kunzite." Mamoru crossed his arms. "Why the Hell should I?" "Because he's worried sick!" "Is he, now?" "Yes!" Zoisite hoped Mamoru couldn't see her sweat. Her lies didn't always fool him. "I . . . I was supposed to rendez-vous with him in Tokyo. And, and he probably thinks I'm dead in a ditch somewhere! So you've got to tell him that I'm safe and sound here in Crystal Yedo!" Zoisite waited as Mamoru thought it over. "If I talk to him," he said, "will you please stop deviling me?" "Maybe," said Zoisite. "Your little obedience oath controls my actions, but it has no say over my attitude." "So I've noticed." Mamoru rolled his eyes. "I suppose a 'maybe' is better than nothing. All right. I'll talk to Kunzite. And if my attendants are being mean to you, I'll tell them to treat my mistress with more respect." "I am not your mistress!" said Zoisite. "I only slept with you once, and that was because I had to!" Mamoru nodded toward the entrance. "By their definition, that makes you my mistress. C'mon." He took Zoisite's wrist and pulled her back out into the celebration. "What are you doing? Lemme go!" The crowd parted, dropping to their knees and gasping as Mamoru hauled Zoisite into the center of the dance ring. He raised his arms, stopping the music. "Everyone, rise!" he shouted. "I wish to present my mistress, the beautiful, refined and extremely docile Zoisite! She is also blessed with child and should be celebrated!" The crowd gaped, a thousand mouths hanging open. Then after a few seconds of stunned silence, the drums resumed their pounding. "Thanks, Mamo," said Zoisite. "Just what I need--a migraine!" "Get in the chair with Usagi." "There isn't room." "Sure there is!" said Usagi, moving over. "It'll just be a little friendly!" After throwing a red kimono over Zoisite, the dancers crammed her in beside Usagi, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Then everyone started dancing again. "All this movement is going to make me sick," said Zoisite, slumping against Usagi. "You urped before you came, didn't you?" said Usagi. "Yes." "Then you should be fine." Usagi settled back comfortably, pulling Zoisite into her arms. "I'm glad you're here, and I don't want any of my subjects mistreating you." Zoisite swallowed. If Mamoru kept his promise and talked to Kunzite, there might yet be a chance to escape. Even so, thought Zoisite miserably, keeping Beryl's new schedule a secret would be a lot easier if Usagi and the senshi weren't so damned kind. And what about Ami? The thought of anything happening to her sunk Zoisite into a deeper depression than she could admit. But if she had to choose between sparing Ami's life and preserving Kunzite's . . . "You okay?" said Usagi, touching Zoisite's face. "Huh?" She blinked. "I'm fine." No, I'm not fine. But I can't think about it now. "How do you feel?" Trapped, thought Zoisite. * The more Tokyo grew, spreading northward and westward, swallowing farm country and villages, the more negative energy it produced. The dark energy rose not from the bustling human activity, but rather from pockets of neglect the city dwellers left behind. It sprouted in the damp, cold spaces between flatblock developments and behind the loading docks of warehouses. Negative energy thrived in any dark corner where litter was never swept out or where oily water was allowed to pool without draining. In such places, Mamoru/Tuxedo Kamen knew he would find youma. These creatures of the Dark Kingdom fed upon the energy that grew out of the unwanted. But after two hour's searching through the ugliest parts of Tokyo, Mamoru had come up empty. If Beryl was planning to attack Crystal Yedo that winter, she would need an enormous amount of energy just to break through Usagi's ward, let alone subdue the upper realm. How could she get it, wondered Mamoru, except by sending armies of youma out into Tokyo to collect? Mamoru crept through the shadows of an old fish market district, where poorly engineered water reclamation had caused some of the cannery buildings to actually sink a few inches into Tokyo Bay. The black cape of his Earth transformation costume blended into the darkness of night, rendering him almost invisible. A splitting headache made his eyes swim. Life with Zoë was getting unbearable. The day could've been perfect if not for Zoisite. Even including her in the festival dance hadn't lightened her up. Things wouldn't be so bad if she would just leave him alone, but now that she could move around without pain she was a constant thorn in his side. Mamoru winced at the pun and adjusted his mask. A month ago, he had thought that his problems were solved, but he should've known better than to leave her crying in her bed. Now all Mamoru could do was kick himself for his short-sighted selfishness. If he had just stayed with her that night and held her, if he had just shown more tenderness, he could've turned things around. But instead, their lovemaking (hatemaking?) had made everything worse. Black clothes, black moods--"contrary" didn't even begin to describe Zoisite's attitude this past month. And why, wondered Mamoru, had he been so cold on that pivotal night? Up until the end, things had gone pretty well. He had coaxed Zoisite into opening up. They had climaxed in each other's arms, and afterwards, Zoisite had actually tried to get close to him, tried to reach out. But then something snapped, as if the worst of Mamoru's worst side had suddenly taken over, and all he could express for Zoisite was scorn. Now she wanted him to talk to Kunzite. But could he trust her? Sure, he had just made her a promise, but he'd done it to shut her up. Should he honor his promise and play into the hands of Kunzite's treachery? What else could it be but a trick? Mamoru paused. A youma was feeding nearby. He could feel it. He tracked it into a narrow alley that he and Zoisite knew only too well, even though it had been three years since they had last fought there. Gods! Why does it have to be this alley? Stemming a tide of unwanted memories, he focused on the object of his search, which he found crouched against a crumbling, brick wall. She was a small, humanoid youma, about four feet tall, with four arms and crab claw hands. Her naked skin was striped with orange and purple, and her head bore a small pair of antlers. She was nibbling energy off a grease slick on the concrete. Not a very strong youma, decided Mamoru as he crept closer. The creature's nose twitched. She looked up and screamed as Mamoru pounced. Stunning her with his own energy field, he held a rose over her terrified face. "T-T-Tuxedo Kamen!" "I don't want to hurt you. Ridding Tokyo of one more pathetic alley feeder might make this city a better place, but I need information." With the tip of his rose, Mamoru drew a mesmerizing circle around the creature's head. These weaker youma were easily mind controlled. "You will tell me the truth." "Y-yes, Tuxedo Kamen! Banzai!" "How many of you are out feeding tonight?" "I dunno . . . a hunerd . . . mebbe more. Less. I dunno!" "Where are the other youma?" "Dey go other places! I dunno!" "Where are they concentrating?" "I dunno! I dunno! Don' hurt me, Tuxedo Kamen!" "I want to know how Beryl is getting energy." "Beryl want energy! Lots! I dunno! Don' hurt me!" Mamoru sighed and dropped the rose. These stupid youma didn't know anything. Just then, he felt another presence suddenly appear. "Cruising for ass?" said the tall, fully-uniformed silhouette of Kunzite from the mouth of the alley. "I wouldn't think a happily married man would be so desperate." Oh, fucking perfect! thought Mamoru. Stepping forward, Kunzite waved his arm and opened a portal behind the youma. "Get thee gone," he said, blasting the creature back into its own realm. Then he turned to Mamoru, who noticed for the first time how much Kunzite resembled the fae denizens of Crystal Yedo, except that he was much taller and had more human proportions. Kunzite had the same large, slanted eyes and flaxen, almost iridescent hair. And his nose and chin were as pointed as Zoisite's. But like Zoisite, it wasn't quite enough to rule out the possibility that he was human. He looked better than he had the last time Mamoru had seen him. At least his austere, gray uniform didn't have any holes at the elbow. But there was a weariness. His erect posture and officer-like bearing betrayed effort. "Just the man I want to see," said Kunzite. "I thought I'd find you in a place like this, a congenial habitat for vermin." Don't show fear! Kunzite rested his hand on Mamoru's head. "This particular alley is such a popular feeding ground, it makes me wonder what sort of nastiness might've occurred here. A murder? A rape?" Mamoru quickly conjured a rose. "Oh, keep it in your pants, little emperor! I only want to thank you for taking such good care of my Zoisite, and to ask you how he, er, she is doing." Careful, thought Mamoru. Whatever Kunzite's up to, you know who he serves. Promises be damned, the kingdom could be at stake, and you must not let him know where to find Zoisite! Who knows what those two were planning! Mamoru jerked away. "Liar! You know damn well how Zoisite's doing! She's in your bed, waiting for you!" "I beg your pardon?" said Kunzite, raising his eyebrows. "You tricked me! I should've known why you were so eager to visit Zoisite, but I'm afraid we didn't find that little, glass bottle until it was empty!" Mamoru hoped his voice sounded righteously angry. "Then, then she's gone from Crystal Yedo?" said Kunzite. "She's in Tokyo?" "How the Hell should I know where she went?" Kunzite slumped against the wall, looking curiously relieved. "You're certain, then?" "Certain of what?" said Mamoru. "She didn't leave us any clues except an empty bottle of poison--" "And blood? Did you find much blood?" "You'll have to ask our physician how much Zoisite bled; she's the one who cleaned up the mess!" Kunzite exhaled a long, slow breath, eyes closed. "And Zoisite hasn't been seen in the palace since?" "She'd better not be!" "Very well," said Kunzite, walking away. "You've told me what I need to know. I thank you, little emperor." With his back to Mamoru, Kunzite vanished in a flash of blue-violet. "Hmm," said Mamoru, pinching his chin between thumb and forefinger. "He may be a little stressed out, but he doesn't look 'worried sick' to me." In fact, Kunzite had looked pleased at the news of Zoisite's unknown whereabouts, although a touch sad. "It's just a little lie," he whispered. "A necessary one, I'm sure. And Zoisite's often deceived me." Mamoru looked down at the slab of concrete where the youma had been feeding, and gulped. This is the place. Three years ago, on this very spot, he had done something to Zoisite that forever made him question whether he was fit for his destiny as a hero. It was shortly after he had taken one of the nijizuishou crystals away from Zoisite, which he had to do to prevent all seven from being gathered and handed over to Beryl. Otherwise, Beryl would've used the combined crystals' immense power to usher in her reign of terror. Zoisite had chased Mamoru all over Tokyo to recapture the lost rock, attacking everything in the way. Finally, Zoisite cornered him in this very alley, knocked him to the ground with a "cherry blossom" attack and conjured a katana made of ice. But Mamoru threw a rose that nicked Zoisite's hands, and the katana fell to the concrete. Zoisite's spirit cry became a howl of pain as he staggered back, hands bleeding. Momentarily neutralizing the dark powers, the rose allowed Mamoru to scramble to his feet and quickly conjure another. He pounced, seized the effeminate, little demon's wrists, and held the bloom to Zoisite's nose and mouth, forcing him to breathe the rose's fragrance, which weakened the victim. Then he circled Zoisite's wrists with the tip of the flower, binding them. The demon, who could only attack through his hands, was now helpless. That was when Mamoru felt a dark pleasure rising at the sight of his enemy squirming beneath him. Zoisite had threatened his life and the lives of his friends, and it was time to teach Kunzite's androgynous "little rat" a lesson. After creating an energy field to prevent Kunzite from tracking them, he ripped open Zoisite's uniform. Mamoru would always remember Zoisite's wide-eyed shock at the realization of what Tokyo's hero was about to do. And he would always hear the words that passed between them. "What's the matter? Is a defender of peace and justice not supposed to do this?" "If Sailor Moon knew--" "You gonna tell her? You're a demon and a traitor! Who would believe you?" Then Mamoru slashed Zoisite's left cheek with the thorny rose. "Not my face!" he cried. "Please, not my face!" Mamoru now stood before the place where it had happened and shuddered. This slab of concrete was now a "popular feeding ground," according to Kunzite. How much negative energy had Beryl gathered here? Mamoru shook his head. Slashing Zoisite's face had been the cruelest part, knowing how she clung to her beauty. And the scar had never healed. "But I was only eighteen!" pleaded Mamoru to the silent alley. "I was a kid!" And hadn't he regretted the act from that night on? Didn't he feel sick every time he thought about it? And hadn't Zoisite done things that were just as bad? Right now, Mamoru just wanted to go to bed and sleep forever. But Zoisite would probably be waiting up for him, anxious to hear how his talk with Kunzite had gone. What would he say? Was another lie in order? He had to get her off his back. "Oh!" he moaned, rubbing his eyes. If only he could conjure a rose that healed everything! "Zoisite!" he cried as he teleported back to Crystal Yedo. * "Mamoru!" said Zoisite, bolting up in bed. "He's returning! I can feel his teleport!" Tossing aside the comforter, Zoisite sprang off the futon and threw on a pair of black pantaloons under her black sleeping gown. She was out of the room, racing up the corridor before Ami and Makoto could stop her. "Zoisite!" called Ami. "Come back! It's after midnight, and I've told you not to run in your condition!" "Yeah, Zoë! You can talk to Mamo in the morning! Give the guy a rest!" Makoto sighed. "Are we having another full moon?" Zoisite charged into the gardens. Her invisible senses led the way. She ran across sand and through patches of wildflowers. She skirted around topiary and fruit trees. She even splashed through a shallow lily pool. There had been a light rain that evening, and the earth was damp and spongy under her bare feet. Gasping, she stopped in a small rose garden. She could feel the strong signature of Mamoru's teleport. The fragrant shrubs and vines climbed high over her head, enclosing her in a room of blossoming, thorny foliage and perfume. "Mamoru, where are you?" "I'm here." Mamoru's dark form stepped out of the shadows. "Oh, there you are," said Zoisite. "I knew I felt you. Did you talk to Kunzite? What did he say? What did you say? How upset was he?" Mamoru hadn't completed his Crystal Yedo transformation, and Zoisite had to patiently watch as his mask vanished and his tuxedo and cape with cummerbund became a kimono and tunic with front ties. There was something disturbing about the way he was looking at her. It was like the look Mamoru had whenever he was trying to remember his life as a prince back in the Silver Millennium, only more focused and pained. "Are you okay?" said Zoisite. Then she chided herself. Why did she care if he was okay? "What happened in Tokyo tonight?" Mamoru stepped forward, reached out and brushed his fingertips over Zoisite's scar. "It never healed. Why did you carry it into the Third Awakening?" "What are you talking about?" said Zoisite, pulling away. "What's the matter with you? You're looking at me strangely, and I don't like it. Did you see Kunzite, or not?" "Zoisite, there's something I need to address. Something we should've talked about before now, but . . . but it's hard sometimes to face things we've done. Don't move away from me, Zoisite. I'm serious." Mamoru reached out again for Zoisite's face, but she backed into the rose bushes. "Ouch!" she said, when the thorns stuck her. "Don't come any closer! You're frightening me!" "Please, Zoisite. I know that every time I try to help, things get worse, but we've got to talk about what I did back in--" "Get away!" She turned to leave, but Mamoru waved his hand, commanding the rose vines to cover the exit. Zoisite started to panic. "I don't know what you want, but you'd better let me go!" "We've got to stop fighting," he said, stepping closer. "Let me go!" "Not until we talk about this!" "What part of 'let me go,' don't you understand?" Shaking, Zoisite fell into fighting stance. Mamoru came too close, and she lashed out at him with her fingernails. As he dodged, a red rose sprung from the energy in his hand. She saw its flash of color just as he brought it to her face, while his other arm secured her head. With one breath of its fragrance, her muscles turned to jelly. "Don't," she said. "We are going to talk." "Don't, don't, don't, don't!" Zoisite started to whimper. Then, as if Mamoru was suddenly shocked at what he was doing, he let her slip to the ground and backed off, dissolving the rose into the air. "I'm sorry," he stammered. Zoisite blinked for a moment, regaining her strength, then jumped to her feet. "I'll make you sorry!" she said, ripping loose a long, thorny vine. It pricked her hands, but she didn't care, when it made such a convenient weapon. Lunging at Mamoru, she had the vine twisted around his throat before he could counter the move. "Stop!" croaked Mamoru. Zoisite's hands obeyed and dropped the vine. The oath again. Mamoru hadn't used it lately, and he always complained of terrible headaches whenever he did. Sometimes Zoisite got them too. Now she watched him clutch his temples. A shadow seemed to cross his face, even in the darkness of the rose garden. Zoisite knew that one of Mamoru's "moods" would follow. "Don't you get ugly on me now," she said. "You always regret it." Mamoru lifted his head. There was a sharp change in his expression. Zoisite stooped a little. "Mamo-kun--" "Zoisite, I took the pain away from your thorns last month because I felt sorry for you. But you have since used your freedom here to constantly chase and attack me! It's time to put a stop to it once and for all!" He raised his left hand. Zoisite gulped. "Mamo, don't do it! Gods, you know it only makes things worse for both of us!" "By the power of the obedience oath, which you willfully accepted--" "Mamoru, stop! I'll back off, okay?" "--I command that you, Zoisite, desist from attacking me! In fact, I command that you keep a distance of at least ten paces!" "Mamoru!" A terror suddenly gripped her so hard she thought she would suffocate. Collapsing to the ground, she could hear nothing but the pounding of her heart. Her body convulsed as if she had just been plunged into ice. And over her brow, she could feel an invisible branding iron searing her flesh. Mamoru was also on his knees, clutching his chest, face wrenched in horror. Zoisite could see the "ghost sign," the ideogram of Jigoku, blazing hot and orange between his eyes. She heard his choked cry as he fell back in fits of seizure. Then, like the first time, Zoisite felt her terror focus into hatred against Mamoru, but hatred more potent than the oath's first invocation had conceived. Her thorns, although they had lost their sting, were darkening, turning bitter, poisoned. She could feel it. Mamoru was glaring at her with eyes narrowed into black slits. She knew, beyond any doubt, that the oath had infected him with the same virulence. At once, they both leaped up to attack the other. But the oath now had to keep them at least ten paces apart in a rose garden that was less than ten paces wide. Zoisite screamed as the repulsion threw her back into the vines. She was suddenly buried in foliage, with thorns cutting her arms, legs and back. She could hear Mamoru screaming as well. Apparently, he was stuck too. "Stupid idiot!" shrieked Zoisite. "Stop using the oath!" "Ow! This hurts!" "You're telling me! What were you thinking?" "Oh, shut up!" "I can't move!" cried Zoisite. "These hedges must be four feet thick!" "Five," said Mamoru. "Just get someone to cut me out before sunrise, Cape Boy, or you'll really be in trouble!" "No, I believe you will be in trouble. And it's your fault. I wouldn't have used the oath if you hadn't attacked me!" "You wouldn't let me go!" "I wanted to talk, Zoisite!" "What the Hell about?" There was a pause before Mamoru answered, "Nothing." "Nothing? Seemed awfully important a few minutes ago." Zoisite tested the branches, but they held fast. She couldn't even move her hands, so asking Mamoru to temporarily restore her powers wouldn't help. Not that he'd do it. Minutes passed, while she heard nothing from the opposite hedge but an occasional groan or a remark against her lineage. Zoisite sighed. The hatred had deepened into a bitterness that some tiny part of her was vainly struggling against. "I don't know why my scar carried over into the Third Awakening," she said to break the silence. "And I don't care," came the reply from the opposite hedge. "Forget I asked." Zoisite fumed. "You're a slimy, self-important, little toad! After I leave Crystal Yedo, I'll make certain my child never sees you!" "Excuse me?" said Mamoru. "You can go back to Hell as soon as you pop, but the kid stays here." This was news to Zoisite. Of course, she had never actually thought about it before. "What? Do I have no choice in this matter either?" "It's not open for discussion. My child will be raised here, in my palace." "So he can be spit on by your self-righteous, oh-so-legitimate subjects, as a bastard? Never! I'm keeping him!" "You're not fit to keep a dog, Zoisite. And anyway, since when did you give a damn?" Before Zoisite could think of an answer, she heard Usagi calling. "Mamo! I felt your summons! Are you okay?" Usagi's slow foosteps drew closer. "Oh! What are you doing in a rosebush?" "Just a little accident," said Mamoru through clenched teeth. "Wake up the gardener . . . please." "Uh, sure. Hang in there." "I can't do anything else." Usagi waddled away, then paused. "Zoisite? Is that you in there? Were you two fighting again? Whatever this was about, I want you both to talk it out while you're waiting." Zoisite wondered, could Usagi perceive the darkness the oath had just strengthened? How could she not feel it? How could she not sense the change, the presence of Jigoku in her own husband? Or was she just keeping silent? After Usagi left, Zoisite said, "Mamoru, you did go to Tokyo tonight, didn't you?" "Yes!" snapped Mamoru. "I talked to your precious Kunzite, so lay off!" "What did he say?" "Not much." "What do you mean, 'not much?' He must've been furious!" "Didn't seem like it to me," said Mamoru. "Just his usual, smug, pompous self." Zoisite gasped. This couldn't be true! Kunzite had been frantic to get her out of Crystal Yedo well before Beryl's attack. "You lie!" she cried. "What did Kunzite really say?" Mamoru chuckled. "He said, 'You've told me what I need to know. I thank you.' Kunzite was very polite and not upset at all." "That can't be!" "Why not?" said Mamoru. "Why should Kunzite be upset that you're safe and sound in my palace?" Zoisite bit her lip. She couldn't answer, of course. She couldn't betray Kunzite again, endangering his campaign and his life. "Never mind why!" she said as tears welled up. "I know Kunzite will come for me! Even with Usagi's ward, he will!" "Sure," said Mamoru, sarcastically. "Whatever you say."