(continued from part 1)

                             ****************


Kitada Masao opened his eyes, then closed them again with a groan.  The
world was too bright.  His head hurt.

He re-opened one eye gingerly, and found the light bearable this time.
Things swam around him, then steadied.  He was lying in a strange bed,
somewhere white.

Then a familiar figure stepped into view.  Captain Hiiro.

The sight brought it all back to him.  The raid.  Pappa-san's escape.
Artemis, and a conversation in a car.  And his decision.

"Feeling better?" said Hiiro.

"Where am I?" Masao asked.  Turning his head brought more pain, but it
was not too bad this time.  It looked like he was in ...  "A hospital?"

"Bingo."  Hiiro swung up the little monitor pad hanging from the end of
the bed and started to read it.  With a clucking sound, a nurse tried to
stop him, but he fended her off casually.  "Looks like some bangs and
scrapes and a mild concussion, but that's about all," he announced.
The nurse gave an indignant sniff, and departed.  "Want to tell me about
it?"

Masao tried to think.  His head felt thick.  "I ... had a crash?" he
said hopefully.

"Tell me something I don't know," Hiiro said with a pained look.  "We
had to do some fast talking to 'P' Division, by the way.  They were
pretty curious about what you were doing in a car registered to
Pappa-san."

"Oh.  Er, thanks."

"Don't mention it.  Kitada, at the risk of repeating myself, what
happened?"

"I ..."  Masao made a fast decision.  "We were driving along -- and then
he started talking.  You know, him.  Artemis.  It startled me; I must
have swerved ..."  He trailed off with a convincing sigh.  "I'm sorry."

"And so am I."  Hiiro looked down at him in silence.  Masao started to
feel anxious; but then Hiiro said, "What did he say?"

"Oh ... that if we believed Pappa-san was working with the Sankaku, we
were crazy.  Something like that."

"There was no sign of him in the car wreckage.  The cage had been bent
open.  Just bad luck, I guess."

"I guess so," Masao agreed.

"Yeah."  Hiiro rubbed his forehead.  "That was all, then?"

"Yes.  I'm --"

"Sorry, yes.  You said."  Hiiro studied Masao for a long moment, then
glanced back down at the monitor pad.  "Well, from the looks of this
you shouldn't be stuck in here for too long," he said lightly.  "I'll
have someone pick you up when they check you out."

Masao nodded.

"It'll be handy to have you back.  This case has blown wide open, as I
guess you know, and we're going to have our hands full for a while.
Even if we've lost our prisoners, we still have a lot more to go on than
we did before."

Another uncertain nod.

"It may be a while longer yet before we can let you go back to your real
job.  Though I suppose by now your boss is resigned to it."

"I ... guess so."

"Too bad for him."  Hiiro turned to go, then looked back.  "Oh ... one
more thing," he said conversationally.  "Was the crash real?  Or did you
just let him go?"

"Was --?"  Masao froze, staring at him.

"Look, don't fuck with me, Kitada.  It's been a bad day and I'm tired.
You're a lousy liar; your story's about as full of holes as Pappa-san's
car.  Was -- the -- crash -- real?"

Masao said slowly, "If you think you already know the truth, then why
ask me?"

"We could call it a character test, but you already flunked that part,
when I asked you if that was all and you said yes.  Now just tell me the
goddamn truth, will you?"

"I ..."  Masao took a deep breath.  "I let him go."

"Yes, I know."  Hiiro grinned at him.  He walked back around the bed and
sat down in a light plastic chair, then studied Masao for a few seconds.
"Now for the _real_ character test," he said.  "Tell me why."

"Why?"  Masao stared at him, incredulous.  "What does it matter why?" he
demanded.  "I lied to you!  You're going to throw me out, maybe arrest
me ...  Why draw it out?"

"Because I want to know," Hiiro said.  "Tell me."

"Because ... because it was the right thing to do, damn it!  We had no
business taking him prisoner, and you know it."

Hiiro cocked an eyebrow at him.  "I don't know anything of the sort.  He
was a material witness, and likely an accomplice, to a suspected Sankaku
associate.  He interfered with enforcement officers conducting a legal
arrest.  Probably half a dozen other things.  We had every right, not to
mention obligation, to take him in.  Try again."

"Oh, what's the point?"

"Try again," Hiiro repeated.

"Because he was right," Masao said in a low voice.  "Because sometimes
we have to choose.  What to believe in.  Even _whether_ to believe.  We
have to ... to be ready to take a stand, for ... for whatever has
meaning in our lives."  He shook his head.  "I can't say it right; it
just comes out sounding hokey.  But it isn't!  It's the most important
thing in the world.  It's --"

"Faith?" suggested Hiiro.

"Yes!"  Masao gave him a faintly wondering look.  "You do understand."

Hiiro shook his head.  "That's one smooth-talking cat," he said.  "I
could almost get to like him.  Kitada, I hate to break it to you, but
very little of the world runs on what you believe in your heart.  The
world doesn't _care_.  There is no tooth fairy, and love and justice
don't always win."

"That's no reason to give up," Masao said stubbornly.

Hiiro started to answer, then paused.  Unwillingly, his face broke into
a grin.  "You're a starry-eyed romantic," he accused.

"... What's it to you if I am?"

"Maybe a lot," said Hiiro slowly.  "Why _did_ you let him go, Kitada?"

Masao blinked.  "I told just you --"

"No, you didn't.  You gave me a lot of sentimental waffle, and I'm sure
you meant it sincerely, but you weren't telling me why you let Artemis
go."  Hiiro cocked an eyebrow at him.  "You were telling me why we
should let _Hino_ go."

"I --"  Masao fumbled to a stop.  "Maybe I was," he admitted, surprised.

"So what was the reason, Kitada?  The _real_ reason.  Why did you let
him go?"

"Because -- because --"  He groped for words.  Earlier today, in the
car, he had thought he'd known what he was doing, and why; but now it
appeared that nothing was what it seemed, and even Hiiro was a far
deeper man than he'd imagined.  So why _had_ he let the cat go?

"Because he's _Artemis_," he said at last.

"Ah."  Hiiro nodded once.  "Now there, at last, you speak a word I
understand."  He studied Masao for a second longer, then glanced at his
watch.  He stood abruptly.  "All right; that's enough.  Get your clothes
on.  We're overdue back at headquarters, and there's a lot of work to
do."

"You ... what?"  Masao gave him an incredulous look.  "That's it?
You're not firing me, or throwing me in jail?"

"So it seems."

"Why _not_?" he demanded.  "How can you ever trust me again?"

Hiiro looked amused.  "Open your eyes, Kitada.  I never trusted you in
the first place.  I know your limits a little better now; that's all."

"I ... don't understand."

"You don't say."  Hiiro studied him, then thoughtfully sat back down,
straddling the chair with his arms hung loosely over the back.  "All
right.  Let me spell it out in words of one syllable.  Later on we might
be too busy for me to hold your hand, so pay attention.

"You were talking about choosing, before.  It was a valid point.  But
your mistake is in not realising that we _all_ make choices.  We all
decide: who to trust, who to believe ... who to follow.

"Me, now, I chose a long time ago.  I gave my loyalty to 'S' Division,
because I happen to believe that what we do is important."  He lowered
his head to look Masao in the eye.  "That doesn't mean that I always
agree with what I'm told to do.  And it doesn't mean that what I'm told
to do is always 'good' -- even assuming there's any such thing as an
objective 'good.'  Do you follow me, Kitada?  What it does mean is that
when I'm given orders, I obey them.  Because I have made that
commitment.  Because that's what it takes.

"Do you understand?" he said.  "_That's what it takes_.  The willingness
to do the things you don't like ... because, sometimes, they need
doing."

"But you can't just blindly do whatever you're told," Masao protested.
"That's a ... a total abdication of responsibility."

"Not at all.  There is blood on my hands; I acknowledge that.  I'm sure
some of it was justly spilt ... and I suspect that some of it wasn't.  I
don't try to deny my guilt.  But when I'm given an order, I'm seldom in
a position to judge its morality.  I don't necessarily know the big
picture.  That's _why_ we have to obey orders, even if we don't like
them: because we don't know.  We just have to have faith that the ones
in charge _do_ know.  And so we pick our loyalties ... and we stick with
them.

"Kuroi, now ... he and I go way back.  His first loyalty isn't to 'S'
Division; it's to me, personally.  If I say go, he'll go.  If I ask him,
he'll tell me if he thinks I'm wrong; but once I give the order, he's
committed.  The others, Aoiro, Mitsukai -- well, they all have their
reasons and their loyalties, one way or another.  They're all committed
to the job, or I wouldn't be working with them.

"And then there's you."

"Me?" repeated Masao.

"Yes."  Hiiro studied him for a few seconds.  Then, suddenly, he shot
from his chair.  "Come on, Kitada, get a move on.  Aren't you dressed
yet?"  Before Masao could say a word, he turned and strode quickly out
of the room.

Masao pulled himself out of bed and got dressed, wincing occasionally.
His mind was whirling.  What had Hiiro been talking about?  What had he
been trying to say?

And what was Masao supposed to do now?

                                  --**--

Kuroi was waiting out in the corridor.  Hiiro nodded to him and said,
"He let the cat go."

The other man cocked an eyebrow.  "Then crashed the car and put himself
in hospital to cover up?  Pretty ballsy."

"Sounds like something you'd do, right?"

Kuroi did not even pause to think.  "No."

"Oh?"  Hiiro considered.  "I suppose not."

They made their way down to the nurses' station.  The nurse whom Hiiro
had shooed away before was there, talking angrily to another woman.  She
saw them coming and stalked off before they could get there, the sound
of her heels sharp on the polished floor.  Hiiro grinned.

He showed the duty nurse his ID, and she handed him a clipboard full of
forms.  He started to flip through them.  After a few moments Kuroi
said, "You're keeping him on, then?"

"Yes," said Hiiro.  "He might be important."

Kuroi did not answer; he simply waited.

Hiiro finished the last form with a snap and passed the clipboard back
to the nurse, then led Kuroi a few paces away.  "His loyalties aren't
set," he said thoughtfully.  "Not yet.  He still believes in right and
wrong.  It makes him dangerous, true -- if someone changes his mind,
he'll turn his coat.  All the same ..."

Kuroi said, "You want a canary."

"Yes.  You _do_ see."  Hiiro gave him an approving look.  "There's
something big going on here, and I don't like it.  Some funny orders
coming down from above.  Shiro sees it too; otherwise he wouldn't be
stalling on the Hayashi girl."

He paused, chewing on the idea.  "The whole situation's looking nasty,
and I'm not sure that we're on the right side.  That's why I want
Kitada.  Because maybe, just maybe, I'm going to need someone on my team
with a conscience."


                             ****************


A pause came in gym class, and Mark squatted down to take a breather.
Liam sat beside him, watching the girls' class on the other side of the
field.  His eyes never left one small, golden-haired figure.

After a little he said, "You heard what happened?"

Mark snorted.  "The whole school's heard what happened by now," he said
angrily.  "I was going to do it today -- ask her out, and the hell with
waiting.  But now --"

"Mm.  I wasn't talking about that, though."

"What, then?

"Her brother."  Liam paused for a moment, his brows knitting.  "Ichiro,
I think it was.  He'd be a year ahead of us --"

"Ichiyo."

"Whatever.  I hear he got a phone call at lunch time.  Apparently, the
other brother -- Fujisomething, he's at Kamome Junior High -- got sent
home.  They're talking about expelling him."

Mark looked up sharply.  "Expelling?  What for?"

"Fighting.  It seems somebody said something bad about his sister."

The two exchanged a look.  At last Mark said, "Damn."

Liam nodded slowly.  "This Ichiro, now," he said meditatively.  "I hear
that he's not one to be too sympathetic about what happened to his
sister."

"That's what I hear," said Mark.

"Mm.  It's nice to know that someone in the family is still on her
side."

"Ye-es."  Mark was silent for some time.  "Fujimaro-kun.  I suppose I
could find him, talk to him," he said at last.  "He might even know
what's really happened to her."

"You don't have to sound so eager," Liam said sarcastically.

"Well, would you be so eager to talk to a complete stranger about
wanting to date his sister?" demanded Mark.

"Ah."  Liam finally tore his eyes away from Kin as he considered this.
"You may have stumbled on one of the universal woes of manhood, there."

"Fat lot of help you are."

The gym teacher's whistle blew, and they looked up, startled.  "You
there!  The unheavenly twins!" the teacher called.  "Get a move on!"

Mark stood up again with a groan.  "Sometimes," he said, "I dream I can
find a way to sort all this out so everyone ends up happy.  Silly, huh?"

Liam shrugged, and joined him.  "Sometimes I dream I'm a secret agent.
I expect dreams are what you make of them, mostly."

"You're a big help.  C'mon, let's go."


                             ****************


The school day finally ended.  Dhiti headed outside at a speed that she
never showed in PE class, found a secluded spot and tapped her
communicator.  As soon as the tiny screen lit up, she burst out,
"Hayashi, what the _hell_?!"

"... Dhiti-chan," said Miyo's voice.  She sounded resigned.  "Dead on
time."

"Don't you try to put me off," said Dhiti, almost savagely.  "I'm ...
very unputoffable.  Damn it, Hayashi, the teacher announced that you
were leaving, in front of the whole class!  What the hell's happened?"

After a moment she added, in a puzzled tone, "And why can't I see your
face?"

"I ... it's a long story, Dhiti-chan.  It would be better if we can
meet, so I can explain.  If you --"

"I'll be at the Olympus in twenty minutes."

"No!  Not there.  If we go to ... oh, let me think.  I can't come to
your house.  How about ..."

"Why not Beth-chan's favourite warehouse?" asked Dhiti sarcastically.

"That could work, actually.  At least everyone knows where it is."

"What, you're serious?"  Dhiti raised her eyebrows.  "All right ...
whatever.  I'll get Kin-chan and we'll meet you in --"

"Just you, Dhiti-chan."

"Huh?  But --"

"You can tell her later, I suppose.  But I need the others to hear this
too, and I ... don't think Kin-chan should be there."

Dhiti did not answer for some time.  Her mind was racing in circles.
At last she said, "Hayashi, what's _wrong_?"

There was only silence from the communicator.  Then, unexpectedly, Miyo
gave a dry chuckle.  "Wait and see, Dhiti-chan.  I think you'll be
surprised."

"Oh, come on," Dhiti protested.  "You --"

"Never mind.  I've got to call the others.  I'll see you ... in a bit."

"Why do I think this isn't a good surprise?"  But the communicator had
gone dead.  Dhiti stared at it, then let her arm drop.

Then she was running again: first to find Kin, and probably an argument;
and then to get to a warehouse whose location she barely remembered.
Why did life have to be so _complicated_?

                                  --**--

Suzue received Miyo's call with equanimity.  She had been to the
warehouse twice before, and had little trouble finding it again.  When
she arrived, she found Beth and Iku already there, waiting outside the
gate.

"Oh, hi, Suzue-san," Beth said as she approached.  "Have you any idea
what this is about?"

Suzue shrugged.  "A Senshi meeting, I expect," she said.  "Miyo-san
didn't say."

"I suppose so.  She sounded as if something was bothering her, though,
so I just wondered ..."

"Hm.  I imagine we'll find out soon enough."

"... I suppose," Beth said reluctantly.

An awkward silence fell.  Suzue looked around, trying to think of
something to talk about.  At last she nodded toward the gate.  "Should
we go in, do you think?"

"Well, it's locked.  We'd have to climb over ... or transform, of
course."  Beth looked through the wire fencing, her head cocked to one
side.  "I wonder why Miyo-san wanted to meet here?  I mean, I used to
come here all the time with Bendis-chan, but ..."

"I don't know."  Suzue's eyes moved to a building a few hundred metres
from the warehouse gate.  It was old and dilapidated, and had clearly
been abandoned for some time.  More recently, though, it appeared to
have been struck with some heavy object.  One side had caved in, and the
surrounding sections were charred and blackened.  Bright orange warning
tape marked the damaged areas.

"It's not as badly damaged as I thought," she mused.

Beth followed her look, and winced.  "Go ahead," she said.  "Rub it in."

"What?  Oh.  No, I didn't mean that.  I was just thinking that it was
odd ..."

"Odd?"  Beth looked at her sharply, then back to the building.  "How do
you mean?"

"Those men we fought," Suzue said slowly.  "They said they were from the
Sankaku clans.  So why did they have an Opal with them?"

"Eh?  Why ... wouldn't they?"

"You can't just _buy_ an Opal.  Only the government has them.  'P'
Division and 'W' Division, mostly --"

"And 'M' Division," added Iku softly.

"Yes."  Suzue looked at her sharply.  "Those men were in 'M' Division
uniforms, weren't they?"

"They said they were in disguise," Iku said.

"Okay.  I suppose they could have stolen an Opal, too."  Suzue frowned.
"They _must_ have done.  Why would 'M' division attack us?"

"So what's the problem?" asked Beth.

"Nothing, I suppose.  I just ... thought that the Sankaku would have
been more ... competent, somehow."

Beth stared at her.  Then she chortled.  "You _want_ our enemies to be
more competent?"

It was Suzue's turn to stare.  "What on earth are you talking about?  Of
course not!"

"Okay, okay.  You know, you've got to learn to take a joke, Suzue-chan."

Suzue's brow wrinkled at the 'chan', but she let it pass.  "I just don't
see _why_ they were so bad at it," she argued.  "You know, you always
hear about the Sankaku as being master criminals, but if one of them had
simply held a gun at Iku-san's head --"  She broke off, seeing Iku's
sudden, horrified look, and realised with a start what she had been
saying.  "All right, I'm sorry," she went on.  "It was just an example.
But -- why _didn't_ they?  Why did they handle it all so badly?  You see
what I'm getting at?"

"Umm.  I think so," said Beth.

Hesitantly, Iku said, "You think that ... if they seem to be so
incompetent, then perhaps ..."

"Perhaps they're anything but," finished Beth.  "Perhaps they're doing
it to fool us."

"In which case ... what are they drawing our attention away from?" added
Suzue grimly.

Beth let out a whistle.  "That's pretty subtle," she said.  "You really
think they could be that smart?"

"If I could think of it, why couldn't they?" replied Suzue
matter-of-factly.  She looked around, her brow creasing.  "Shouldn't the
others be here by now?"

"They've got further to come."  But Beth looked around, too.  "Maybe
we should head in.  People will think it's odd if they notice a bunch
of girls standing around outside a warehouse."

Suzue nodded; after a moment, Iku did too.  Beth led them to the gates.
They were closed and locked, but there was enough give in the chain that
held them together for the girls to squeeze through.

Inside, the road led between a row of buildings, ending in a broad, open
courtyard.  Suzue came to a halt, studying the place.  The last time she
had been here, it had been by night.

The courtyard was much larger than it appeared from the street outside;
most of it was shielded by the surrounding buildings.  Tall, rusting
industrial cranes lined one side.  Several of the buildings had open
loading docks, some of them littered with empty metal drums.  The ground
between them was paved, but the tarmac was cracked and broken in places,
letting grass and even a few summer flowers show through.  The buildings
themselves were dirty, their paint fading, none of them more than three
stories high.  There was a smell of old oil in the air.

"Ugly," she said idly.

"Yeah," said Beth.  "But it's all abandoned; nobody comes here.  You
know," she went on eagerly, "we could use this as a training area.  It's
a lot easier to get to than that place Itsuko-san took us --"

"Someone did come here, last week," Suzue reminded her.

"But --"

"And Lady Blue attacked you and Iku-san here, if I recall."

"Oh, all _right_.  It was just an idea."  Beth made a face at her.  "We
really could use another training area, though.  I wonder how the
old-time Senshi managed?"

Suzue raised her eyebrows.  "You know, that's an interesting question."
There was nothing about it in any of the holy books that she had heard
of.  "Perhaps they had the same problem?" she mused.

"Probably," Beth said darkly.  "Crazies everywhere, waiting to mob them
if they showed their faces.  It happened to me once, you know."

"It ... did?"

"Back when I was just starting out.  This man -- one of the Loonies, or
something mad like that --"

A little angrily, Suzue said, "You know, the Church of Serenity aren't
all madmen, and it's not very nice to call them Loonies."

"Ha!  You didn't see this guy, Suzue-chan.  Let me tell _you_ a thing or
two."  Speaking quickly, Beth told her what had happened: the jewel
robbery and the wounded officer from 'P' Division; her intervention as
Sailor Venus; the scorn of the woman she had saved; and finally, the man
who had knelt at her feet and tried to kiss her hand, and beseeched her
to carry a message to the ears of the 'Blessed Lady Serenity.'  As she
spoke, Beth became visibly agitated, and by the time she finished, she
was almost shivering at the memory.

"Yes," Suzue said thoughtfully.  "I can see how that would be ...
unpleasant."

It was true.  She had never considered the question from that viewpoint
before, and the idea was somehow disturbing.  For the first time, she
wondered how Itsuko had felt when Suzue had knelt at _her_ feet; and the
thought made her feel slightly ill.

Even worse was the possibility that, as a Senshi, Suzue herself was now
one of the Elect.  What if other Church members knew who she was?
People she knew; friends and even family?  How would they react?  What
if ... her _parents_ wanted to kneel to her?  She shuddered.

Beth must have noticed.  She nodded and said, "Yeah.  It got to me, for
a while.  Bendis-chan helped me sort it out; but still, if I saw that
guy again ... brr."

"I think ... perhaps I know what you mean."  It occurred to Suzue,
suddenly, that she was in quite a similar position to Beth.  She found
herself wondering how much that gave them in common; and even if, in
spite of everything, she might be able to confide in the girl.

"You know," she said slowly, "there's something that maybe I ought to
tell you --"

"Hello-o!" called a voice suddenly, making her jump.  She looked around
and saw Dhiti walking up from the gate, waving.

[Perfect timing,] she thought ruefully.

Then again, perhaps it was a good thing that she had been interrupted.
Once again, she had managed to miss Iku.  The girl was so quiet, it was
easy to forget she was there ...

"Good afternoon," she said coolly as Dhiti reached them.

"Wow, what's wrong with all of you?" Dhiti replied cheerfully.  "You
look like you've been kissing toads."

Suzue stared at her.  "We _what_?"

"It's not that bad," Beth put in.  "We were just talking about ... some
stuff.  It doesn't really matter."

"Kissing toads always matters, Beth-chan.  Don't let anyone tell you
different."

"No, I meant --"

"Though to be honest, when it comes to toads I'd actually prefer not to
know the sordid details."

Beth narrowed her eyes.  "Excuse me?  _Which_ one of us has the toad
fetish here?"

"It's too dry for toads," said Iku, very quietly.

Dhiti and Beth broke off, staring at Iku.  The girl shrank back, as if
frightened by their attention.  Then, slowly, Dhiti's face broke into a
smile.  "Not bad, Iku-chan," she said.  "Not bad at all."

"What are you all _talking_ about?" Suzue burst out.  "We were having a
serious discussion, and suddenly it's all ... toads!  Is this supposed
to be some kind of joke?"

"No, Suzue-san, it's quite important, really," Dhiti told her
earnestly.

Suzue blinked, taken aback.  "It is?"

"Absolutely.  You see, kissing toads can cause chapped lips, so --"

"Oh, you're impossible!"

Suzue whirled and started to stalk away, infuriated.  It was bad enough
that Dhiti seemed incapable of taking anything seriously.  Worse yet,
the others were all too ready to go along with her.  Couldn't they see
how ridiculously they were behaving?

A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked around.  "Come on," said
Dhiti softly.  "It's just a bit of fun.  Don't get grumpy."

"Why not?" asked Suzue petulantly.

"Because then we'd have to start calling you 'Grumpy-san.'"

"You --"  She stared at Dhiti, on the verge of exploding again.  "You
_are_ impossible."

Dhiti shrugged and said, "That's what they tell me."  She winked at
Suzue, a faint grin quirking the corner of her mouth.  "Friends?"

Suzue looked at her for a moment longer.  Then, defeated, she let
herself sag back.  "... I suppose so," she muttered.

"That's the spirit!  Now, come on.  We've got to be ready to hear this
big news of Hayashi's ..."

Suzue followed Dhiti back to rejoin the others.  She felt muddled,
annoyed -- and yet, at the same time, oddly relaxed.  It was all very
confusing.

                                  --**--

Beth watched the two of them come back with a sense of relief.  Suzue
and Dhiti sometimes seemed to get on like a house on fire, and not in a
good way.  Dhiti could never take anything seriously, and Suzue was ...
not cold, exactly, but ... oh, well, never mind.  The two of them had
obviously made up, so that was all right.  Surely.

She wondered, though, what Suzue had been about to tell her.  Well, she
could always ask later.

"So," she said as the two drew near.  "Dhiti-chan, did Obaasan tell
_you_ why she wanted this meeting?"

Dhiti blinked, then frowned.  "No," she said.  "Actually, it was kind of
weird, what happened."  She outlined what had happened quickly: Miyo's
sudden departure from school, their communicator call, and finally, the
astonishing announcement in class.

"Withdrawn from school?" said Suzue, startled.  She thought, then said,
"Has anyone tried calling Itsuko-san?"

"Er -- no," Dhiti admitted.  "I was in a bit of a hurry, and --"

"And you didn't think of it," Suzue finished.  There might possibly have
been a faint smile on her lips.  "Never mind.  But maybe you should try
now.  Artemis gave her a communicator, so ..."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Dhiti, chagrined.  "Just give me a second --"

"Don't bother," said Miyo's voice from behind them.

Beth turned, and jumped.  It was not Miyo at all; it was a stranger.
But what was a stranger doing here?  And where had Miyo's voice come
from?

Then she realised what she was seeing, and yelped in surprise.

The Miyo that stood before them was a changed person.  Her clothes were
unfamiliar.   Her eyes had mysteriously become brown.  Her skin had
darkened a little, as if she had somehow acquired a tan overnight.  Her
figure seemed different, too, though Beth could not immediately pinpoint
how.

And her hair -- her beautiful mane of chestnut hair -- had been shorn.
It was barely shoulder-length, curled inward at the ends; and it was
black.

Beth could not speak; she could only stare.  At last she managed to
stammer out, "What -- what --"

"Hayashi!" groaned Dhiti in real horror.  "Hayashi, what have you
_done_!"

Miyo gave her a sardonic smile.  "Surprise," she said.

"Don't tell me that!" Dhiti shouted.  "You can't do that!  You can't --
oh, Hayashi, oh, Miyo, what have you done to yourself?"

"They found her, Dhiti-chan."  Miyo's voice was level; but there was a
sudden, fierce note in it.  Her fists were clenched.  "They found
Itsuko.  And now it's all gone to hell."

"Perhaps," suggested Suzue carefully, "you should start at the
beginning."

Miyo told them.  The raid on the Olympus; Itsuko's forced flight, and
her unexpected rescue.  Eyebrows lifted at the mention of the
semi-mythical Sailor Pluto, but Suzue firmly kept the others from
interrupting.  When the story was finished, a long, dismayed silence
fell.

"So ... you ..." faltered Beth at last.

Miyo laughed harshly.  "Itsuko said it.  If she has to run, I have to go
with her.  Where else have I got to go?"  She shook her head.  "So
Hayashi Miyo has to disappear.  And you get to have a new me.  Contact
lenses, and body dye, and ..."  She grimaced.  "I hope you like it."

Dhiti did not answer in words.  She walked up to Miyo, took her by the
chin, and studied her face for a long moment.  Then, still not speaking,
she put her arms around the girl and hugged her.

After a moment, Miyo gave her an awkward hug back.  "Thank you,
Dhiti-chan," she said softly.  "That means a lot."

"I don't like this, Hayashi," Dhiti answered, her voice muffled.  "I
don't like it at all."  She lifted her head from Miyo's shoulder, looked
her in the eye, and said, "Just ... promise me that _you_ won't change.
That you'll stay _you_.  Promise me."

Miyo looked oddly touched.  "I promise," she said.

"All right, then."  Dhiti sighed.  "You know, if you really have to --"
She broke off suddenly and pulled away from Miyo.  "You feel funny," she
said, puzzled, and studied her for a moment.  "Hayashi, what've you done
to your chest?"

"Er --"

"Oh, so _that's_ what it is," said Beth in sudden realisation.  "I
thought you looked different, Miyo-san."

Suddenly everyone was looking at her.  She flushed.  "Um ... apart from
the obvious, that is."

"I'm wearing a minimiser bra," said Miyo stiffly.  "Itsuko thought I
should try to be a little less ..."

"Outstanding?" suggested Dhiti.  Iku made a tiny sound that could almost
have been a laugh.

It drew her a glare.  "Thank you so much.  Look, the more different I
look, the better, all right?"  She rubbed her chest absently.  "It's not
the most comfortable thing in the world to wear, but it's not too bad."

"The sacrifices you have to make," said Dhiti sympathetically.

"Yes, I --  Oh, shut up, you!"  Miyo aimed a clout at Dhiti's head and
the Claver girl ducked, snickering.

Suzue shook her head.  "I don't know how you can take it all so calmly.
You -- forgive me, but, well ... you already lost your family.  This,
though -- it must be like losing --"

"Myself?"  Miyo sobered, and gave her a cold smile.  "Oh, I haven't
forgotten.  But I've done my crying, Suzue-san.  Now --"  She took a
deep breath.  "Perhaps it's time for me to grow up.  Start fighting
back.

"This was a defeat, yes.  But I'm not going to tuck my head in and wail
about it.  I may have to hide who I am for now, but I swear to you, it
won't be forever.  I have a life to live ... and I'm going to _live_
it!"

"Yes," said Iku, softly but firmly.

"Bravo," echoed Suzue.

"Yes, well," Miyo said, a little embarrassed.  "Thanks."

"So you have to start a whole new life," Beth mused.  "In disguise ...
on the run from the law ... it's very romantic."

Miyo stared at her.  "Romantic --"

"Never mind that," said Dhiti fiercely.  "Hayashi, what happens now?
What are you going to do?  Where will you _live_?  Don't tell me you
just have to leave!  We need you!"

"I'm not leaving," said Miyo.  "Itsuko and I have a place to stay.  I'll
give you the address.  But ..."  She shook her head.  "Dhiti-chan, you
know I don't like this either.  But it's not like I'll be gone.  I may
have to go in disguise, and switch to a new school, and I ..."  She
faltered suddenly.  "I have to get a new name, too," she admitted.

Dhiti stared at her, then looked away.  "It's all changing," she
said unhappily.

Miyo nodded.  "I know.  I just don't seem to have any choice."

A silence fell, one that grew steadily more uncomfortable.  At last,
clearing her throat, Beth said, "So, um, do you get to choose a new name
yourself?  How does that work?"

"Oh.  Well, I have to pick one, but ... well, I haven't quite decided.
Itsuko says I need to tell her soon, because she's got to get me new
identity papers."  Miyo paused, frowning.  "I'm not sure how she's going
to do that, either.  I asked, but she won't say.  Anyway, I --"

"You mean, after all that buildup, you don't _know_?" demanded Dhiti
indignantly.

"It's a big decision," Miyo protested.

"You must have some idea," said Suzue.

Miyo hesitated.  Her eyes narrowed.  She said, "I was thinking of
'Makoto.'"


                             ****************


When school let out, Aizawa Ochiyo headed for work.  She had been a
part-time receptionist at the Olympus Gymnasium for a year and a half
now: four nights a week, one of them working until midnight.  (The
schedule rotated, thankfully.)  On late nights she got to sleep over at
the boss's place, with a free meal thrown in.

The job kept her in spending money, and it was not too hard.  It was an
added bonus that she actually liked it.

Things were still quiet when she arrived; they wouldn't warm up for an
hour or so, when the business crowd started coming in.  She climbed the
stairs to the gymnasium and put a bundle of flowers down on the
reception desk.  Then she looked around, puzzled.

Nobody else was there.  Where was Marisa, the day receptionist?

After a moment she shrugged, went around the desk and stowed her satchel
in the cubbyhole at the rear.  She sat down and glanced through the
log book.  It looked as though the whole day had been slow.

She stopped, and reread the log.  That was odd; the last entry was from
midmorning.  Surely things hadn't been _that_ quiet?

She stared down at the book, dithering, then stood up.  A glance down
the stairs showed that nobody was coming.  She left reception empty and
went looking for the other staff.

She found Marisa in the little staff kitchen with Yukimi and Mito, two
of the trainers.  They were talking in low voices, but broke off quickly
as Ochiyo came in.  "Oh, you're here," said Yukimi.  "Good.  Were you on
late shift last night?"

"No, not until next Saturday," said Ochiyo.  "Why?  What's happened?
Where is everyone?"

"Where is Pappadopoulos-san, is the question," said Yukimi with a sniff.
She was a haughty, arrogant woman to the other staff, but ingratiating
with the customers.  Ochiyo did not like her much.  "She disappeared
this morning, and nobody's seen her.  I _thought_ she might have said
something to you last night."

"There were strange men in and out of her office all morning," put in
Marisa.  A fifty-ish woman with a strong accent, she looked upset.
"Norie-chan asked them what they did, and they told her they were from
'P' Division!"

Ochiyo blinked.  "The police?  Were they here about the burglary?"

"Burglary?" said Mito, startled.

"Burglary?" demanded Yukimi at the same time.  "What burglary?"

"Oh, la, I remember," said Marisa.  "That was ... a month ago, yes?
Someone, they broke into Pappadopoulos-sama's apartment?"

"Yes," said Ochiyo, and shivered.  She had been there at the time.  She
still remembered it vividly: the black figure, appearing suddenly out of
the darkness; the hand over her mouth, and the cold spray on her face.

There had been another break-in too, just a week ago; but that had been
an altogether more inexplicable affair.  Itsuko had told her later that
it had been a practical joke, but it certainly had not seemed like one
at the time.

"I would not think it was that," said Marisa.  "Why, they told
Norie-chan that if anyone sees Pappadopoulos-sama, they must report it
immediately!"

"It's all very mysterious," added Mito.  He was a tall, athletic man,
popular among the female customers, with a narrow, bony face.  "Like
something out of a crime novel."

"_I_ think Pappadopoulos-san is in some kind of trouble," said Yukimi.
 From the thin smile on her face, the idea seemed to please her.

Marisa sniffed.  "Now there's a mushroom idea," she said.

Ochiyo lifted her hand to hide a smile.  Marisa was from Grande Brasile
in southern Americay, and she sometimes had a curious turn of phrase.
They were all at least slightly mad in Grande Brasile, supposedly.

Yukimi did not smile; she glared at Marisa and said acidly, "And what
would you know?  If you ask me, there's been something a little fishy
about Pappadopoulos-san all along.  Where does a Greek woman get the
money to buy a building like this, for a start?"

"Oh, come," protested Mito.  "You can't be suggesting she's --"

"Then why do the police want her?" said Yukimi.  "Why were they taking
all her files away?  And where _is_ she?"

"But surely you can't think Pappadopoulos-san would --" Ochiyo began.
But even as she spoke she realised, appalled, that that was exactly
what Yukimi did think.  She broke off, staring at the woman in shock.

"You are talking nonsense," said Marisa to Yukimi angrily, and Ochiyo
wanted to applaud.  "Crazy nonsense!  I have worked for
Pappadopoulos-sama for more than six years, and you won't find a better,
more generous woman!"  Under her breath she added, contemptuously,
"Mushroom, la."

"Then where is she?" Yukimi repeated.  There was a smug satisfaction in
her voice that Ochiyo longed to puncture; but she could not.  Where
_was_ Itsuko?  She could only stare at the woman, hating her a little.
Marisa, too, gave Yukimi a look that was filled with loathing, and then
turned and stormed out.

"Really, there could be a lot of explanations," pointed out Mito.  "We
don't know that she won't be back any minute.  And heaven knows, the
whole business in her office could be ... I don't know; a tax audit,
perhaps.  I'm sure it's all perfectly innocent."

"By 'P' Division?" said Yukimi.

"There could be a lot of explanations," he said again; but his tone had
a sudden weak uncertainty and Ochiyo realised that he, too, was
beginning to doubt.

Sickened and not wanting to hear any more, she turned away.  "Mushroom,"
she whispered under her breath.  She had no idea what it meant, but
somehow it was comforting.

She followed Marisa back out to reception.  The Brasealan woman was at
the desk, packing items into her little shoulder satchel.  She looked up
as Ochiyo came in.

"Ochiyo-chan," she said.  "You must not believe anything that ... that
foolish woman says!  Pappadopoulos-sama is --"

"I know," said Ochiyo.

"She is a paragon, a hero among women!  Why, when first I came to Japan,
she gave me such help, she --"  Marisa gave a loud sniff, and Ochiyo
suddenly realised that the woman was close to tears.  Any sense of
amusement at her words suddenly vanished.

"I don't believe Yukimi-san," Ochiyo said.  "I don't like her."

"That is good."  Marisa gave her a quick smile.  "You have a strong
heart."  Then she looked back to the desk, and flinched.  "Oh, la, and I
have not finished my work!  The log is undone, and --"

"It's okay," Ochiyo told her.  "I can do it."  She touched Marisa on the
shoulder.  "I'm sure it'll be all right."

As she spoke, she wondered if she believed it.

Marisa stood at the desk for a moment longer, then relaxed.  She nodded
sharply.  "Very well.  I will see you tomorrow, then.  Be well,
Ochiyo-chan."  She smiled at Ochiyo again, then headed down the stairs,
her steps quick and jerky.  Ochiyo stood looking after her for several
seconds, trying to decide what to do.

Then she heard more footsteps -- a sharper, male stride -- coming up.  A
customer, arriving for his regular workout.  Abruptly, she remembered
what she was supposed to do.  She sat down at the reception desk, and
when the man came into view, she offered him a big smile.

                                  --**--

The afternoon dragged past.  All the staff were nervous and subdued, and
before long the mood infected the customers as well.  More and more of
them cut their sessions short and left early.  Ochiyo found herself
wondering what would become of the gymnasium if Itsuko never came back
at all.

Her shift finally ended at seven, and she picked up her bag as soon as
Ryobe arrived to take over.  He raised an eyebrow at the flowers on the
desk, grinned at her obvious eagerness to be gone, and waved her out.

She started down the stairs.  Then, on a sudden odd impulse, she turned
and went up instead.  She stood for a moment on the top landing,
listening.  The upper floor was silent.  She nodded to herself and went
on.

Itsuko's office was sure to be locked; but Ochiyo knew the key code to
her apartment.  She had to, to get in and out on her late nights.  She
punched in the number and opened the door.

The apartment was dark and silent.  She paused on the threshold for a
second, knowing that she had no business being here, and then stepped
inside.  She walked down the corridor quickly and opened the
through-door into the office.  "Itsuko-san?" she called quietly.

The office was as dark as the apartment.  Ochiyo steeled herself, then
turned on the light.

It was a mess.  Papers and empty boxes littered the floor.  The drawers
of the filing cabinets were open, and folders lay stacked haphazardly
everywhere.  The cupboard in the corner stood ajar, its contents strewn
across the carpet.  The window had been left open.  Itsuko's desk was
tidy enough, but it was not in its usual position.  Nor was the rest of
the furniture.

She took another look at the desk.  It was completely clear; even the
'in' and 'out' trays were empty.  Most of the folders by the filing
cabinets looked empty, too.  Yukimi had said that the police had taken
Itsuko's papers away, she remembered.  Seeing the wretched woman proved
right left a sour taste in Ochiyo's mouth.

Feeling ill and depressed, she glanced around the office again, saw
nothing else, and then switched off the light and turned away.

Somewhere in the apartment, there was a loud buzz.

She jumped, then relaxed, laughing softly in the darkness.  It was just
the commset in the living room.  Someone calling for Itsuko, or perhaps
for that strange, tall girl Itsuko had taken in.

It buzzed again.  And again.

Her feet seemed to move by themselves.  She found herself looking down
at the commset, barely visible in the light filtering through the door.
She had no right to answer it; she knew that.  But whoever was calling
might know what was happening ...

It buzzed again, and she picked up the handset.  "Yes?" she said.

"Hello?"  The voice in her ear sounded like a boy, or perhaps a young
man.  "Oneechan, is that you?"

In the darkness, Ochiyo blinked, and for a moment, the patent absurdity
of the situation got to her.  "If I am, my parents have been lying to me
for a long time," she said wryly.  "Who is this?"

The voice did not answer for a long time.  Then, in a low, bitter tone,
it said, "I knew it wouldn't be true."

"What?" she said, baffled.  "Who _is_ this?  Did you want Itsuko-san?
Or Miyo-san?"  But the commset was dead in her ear.  She stared at it,
then put it down.

In the darkness, she looked around one last time, and shook her head.
There were no answers here.  She left the apartment, locking the door
behind her.


                             ****************


Friday was baking hot, without a breath of wind.  Beth trudged to school
glumly, sweat beading her forehead, her satchel hanging from fingers
that felt like rubber.  It was only half past eight and already she felt
nearly dead.

She had not gotten much sleep the night before.  Her bedroom had been
completely airless, and she had tossed and turned for hours.  Worse,
Bendis had been just as restless, and kept getting up to prowl around
the room.  Each time Beth started to fall into a fitful doze, she would
be jerked awake by the cat's soft, padding footsteps.

When her alarm finally went off, she was still lying awake.  Her eyes
felt half-boiled.  She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower,
not even hearing Bendis' half-hearted good morning, and then screamed in
shock when she stepped in before the water had had a chance to run hot.
It was not an auspicious start to the day.

She managed to rouse a little more when Nanako joined her at the school
gate.  Beth raised a limp hand in greeting, too tired to care that they
had recently been fighting, and they walked in together.

"Rough night?" inquired Nanako, giving her a curious glance.

"Couldn't sleep," Beth mumbled.  "Don't ever get a cat, Nana-chan."

"No?"  Nanako looked interested.  "Why, is she going into heat or
something?"

This idea, finally, shocked Beth wide-awake.  "Oh, gods, I hope not.  I
don't even want to contemplate that."  But, unbidden, a mental image of
Bendis yowling outside her window sprang into her mind, and she cringed.
"Ohh, I contemplated it!"

"Contemplated what?" asked Eitoku's voice.

She looked around to see him approaching, with Iku close behind.  "Never
mind," she told him.

"But --"

Wildly, Beth grabbed him by the lapels of his uniform jacket.  "There
are some things," she hissed, "that human beings were not meant to know.
All right?"

"All right!" he squeaked, and backed away from her hastily.  "For
heaven's sake --"

"Beth-chan has cat problems," Nanako put in, smirking.

"Oh, is that all?"  Now he was annoyed.  "You mean that one that was
hanging round school, a while back?  If it's a problem, why not get it
spayed?  Or just get rid of it."

Beth stared at him.  She decided that she was never, ever going to
mention this conversation to Bendis.

Nanako seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious.  "You could get a
canary instead," she suggested.  "Or white mice."

"Or a dog," Iku said.  "I had a dog once.  A little puppy ..."

"Really?"  There was a curious wistfulness in Iku's voice that drew
Beth's attention.  "Iku-chan, I didn't know you --"

"Whoops," said Nanako suddenly, with an exaggerated look at her watch.
"It's almost time.  We'd better head in, everyone.  Come on."

She led them inside, talking animatedly.  Beth followed along, but she
hung back a little, not paying much attention.  For just a moment there,
when Nanako had butted in and cut off her question, she thought there
had been an odd expression on Nanako's face.  It might have just been
Beth's imagination; but it seemed to her that it had looked like pity.
Or guilt.


                             ****************


Late on Friday night, Itsuko drove out of Third Tokyo.  Thirty
kilometres north-west of the city, the countryside around Lake Tega was
still largely rural, and there were no street lights.  The night was
pitch-black.  There was no moon; overhead, the stars were brilliant, but
they illuminated nothing.  She drove in silence, just her and the beams
from her headlights, alone in the dark.

She pulled up by a decaying old boathouse on the lake shore.  Its
appearance was deceptive; it was a good deal sturdier than it looked,
and the lock on the door was excellent.  She unlocked it, swearing as
she fumbled with the keys, and pulled it open.  There was no boat
inside; instead, a dark blue van gleamed in the headlights of her car.

She switched the vehicles, and spent a few minutes transferring a number
of long, heavy wooden boxes into the rear of the van.  Then, leaving the
car locked in the boathouse, she drove off again, heading around the
lake and then west, over the Tonegawa bridge and across the Kanto plain.

The van was noisier than the electric car; it had an alcohol engine.
Permits for such vehicles were hard to come by, and she had not obtained
hers legally.  Tonight, though, she needed the extra range.

An hour's drive brought her into a thickly wooded region.  Ghost-pale
tree trunks flicked past in her headlights, their branches a deeper
shade of black against the night sky.  Ahead and behind, she began to
see the lights of other vehicles, moving in the same direction as her.

They were all going to the fair.

'Fair' ... such an innocent name; so deceptive.  The truth was that the
black market fairs could be ruthlessly dangerous to the innocent or the
newcomer.  They were home to a spectrum of vices, from the comparatively
innocent to the thoroughly vile.  No names was the rule, and no
questions.  The people who came to these gatherings had a lot to lose,
and they did not give second chances.

Itsuko knew the ropes.  She knew what to say, who to talk to, and who to
beware of.  All the same, she would have to be particularly careful
tonight.  She had more to lose than usual.

Five minutes further on, the road took a long curve south.  She slowed
and turned off into a narrow dirt road.  It twisted its way through the
trees, before suddenly emerging from the forest and passing between
well-fenced fields.  A horse ranch; she could see glimpses of the
animals in her headlights.

Up ahead, one of the fields was filled with light.  No doubt the ranch
owners had been well-paid for the use of their land tonight.  They might
even be participants.  There was no shortage of people interested in a
little off-the-books, tax-free commerce.

A ranch field was an odd sort of venue, perhaps, but hardly exceptional.
The locations could be anywhere, and they were always shifting; it would
be months or even years before this place was used again.  Itsuko had
actually taken the Senshi to one of the fairgrounds, not long ago, for a
training session.  She wondered what the girls would say if they knew
what else went on where they had been practising their attacks.

Her headlights picked out an open gate, just ahead.  She turned into the
field and stopped at the end of a row of other vehicles: vans like hers,
cars, trucks, and even a few motorcycles.  As she switched off the
engine, she could hear voices in the distance.

She took a quick glance in the rear-view mirror and nodded.  The wig and
glasses had been left behind; for tonight, she was Itsuko again.  If all
went well, it would be for the last time.

It was after midnight, but the air outside was still warm, and redolent
with the aroma of horse.  She breathed in through her nose, shrugged,
then tucked a small leather satchel under her arm and headed over toward
the lights.

She had to pass through an inner fence on the way.  A group of men and
women stood at the gate, talking quietly.  They looked up as she
approached, and she nodded to them.  After a second one of the men
nodded back.  The others relaxed.

She had been recognised.  If they had not known her, and she had not had
someone to vouch for her, they would have had to show their weapons.
Itsuko knew from humiliating experience just how well-armed they were.

"Hi, Masami-san," she said to the man who had nodded to her, as she
reached the gate.  "Can I get you anything while I'm inside?"

He looked back at her, expressionless.  "Thank you, Pappadopoulos-san,"
he said.  "That won't be necessary."

"Sure."  Itsuko could not resist.  "You know, I heard a weird rumour
about you.  Man I was talking to a few weeks ago said he'd actually seen
you smile."

Still his face did not move.  "Surely not."

"Well, that's what I told _him_.  Tell me --"  She dropped the levity
suddenly.  "Who's good with records at the moment?"

He paused, apparently deep in thought.  At last, slowly, he said, "Speak
to Kuramoto-san.  He can give you a referral."

"Kuramoto-san.  Thanks."  Itsuko turned away and walked through the
gate briskly.

The field was busy.  Here and there, little tents had been set up, for
all the world like a real fairground, but most of the dealing seemed to
be done from the backs of vans or trucks.  In between, there must have
been a thousand or more people bustling about.  Some of them were
talking and laughing, but most were hushed, moving quickly, their heads
and voices low, intent on their business.  Somewhere, soft music was
playing from a tinny speaker.

Itsuko moved through the crowd, taking her time, nodding to people she
recognised and stopping to greet a few.  A couple of them asked if she
was here with goods.  She gave noncommittal answers, and they nodded in
return.

She walked past a truck that was unloading carton after carton of data
wands -- probably pornography -- and paused to watch another man lifting
heavy sacks from the rear of a van.  Coffee, from the smell of it; the
markings on the sack were Brasealan.  Itsuko was in a similar line, so
she took an interest.

A little further on, a heavyset young woman was levering the top off a
crate of gold and silver ornaments, packed in wood shavings.  Seeing
Itsuko's raised eyebrow, the woman said, "Native art from the Virgin
Nation.  Were you buying?"

Itsuko smiled, shaking her head; the ornaments looked quite good, but
they were almost certainly fake.  The woman's eyes hardened.  "You're in
the business already?" she demanded.

Itsuko raised her eyebrows.  "Rather a personal question," she murmured.
 From the corner of her eyes, she saw some of the men in the van start to
pay attention.

To her silent relief, the woman backed down at once.  "All right, all
right," she said sulkily.  "Sorry.  Only I can do without the
competition."

Itsuko nodded, accepting the apology.  "I'm in a different area," she
said.  "I was just curious."

The woman snorted.  "Aren't they all," she muttered, and turned back to
the crate, sorting through the ornaments.  Itsuko watched her for a few
moments more, an idea slowly crystallising in her mind.  Then,
thoughtfully, she moved on.

All around her, the fair hummed with activity.  Here was a gathering
where you could find anything from heroin to hit-men, buy anything from
real Flamish wines, fabulously expensive, to jewellery stolen from the
royal palace in Attalantay.  And everywhere, if you knew where to look,
and if your credentials were good enough, the people who could sell you
still more exotic things.  Anything at all.

But there was more to it than just buying and selling illegal goods or
services.  The fairs also served as a haven to those people who, for a
thousand different reasons, preferred trade and barter to other, more
taxable forms of exchange.  They brought a wilder element to the
gatherings; in the rougher areas, there would be the gambling dens, the
brothel tents and the arenas.

A gathering this large even attracted its own service industry.  Here
and there she saw stalls and carts selling hot food and drinks, and
doing a brisk trade -- not always for money.

The interesting thing about the service industry, sometimes, was how
well it knew the people it served.  She stopped by a little stand that
was selling hot roasted nuts and asked the seller quietly if he knew
where to find Kuramoto.  He gave her cheerful directions, and sold her a
bag of roast chestnuts.  She tried one as she walked away.  It was quite
good.

She found Kuramoto after a little searching: a tall, lanky man talking
to a group of drug dealers.  Itsuko kept her opinions to herself, waited
until he was free, and told him that Masami had suggested that he might
be able to recommend someone for records work.

Kuramoto thought for a moment.  "Cash or trade?" he asked.  "You deal in
tea, don't you?"

"Darjeeling," she agreed.  Government tariffs on imported tea were very
high, making it profitable to smuggle in; and she had contacts in India.
"I can do either."

She found it interesting -- and slightly alarming -- that he knew her by
sight, and what she dealt in.  How, and why?  Had Masami warned him
somehow?  As before, she kept her opinions to herself.

He smiled.  "Tea, then."  They discussed his referral fee for a minute,
and settled on a single case.  He waved to another man to help him, and
they returned to Itsuko's van, where she unloaded one of the boxes she
had packed earlier.  Kuramoto lifted the lid, sniffed, and nodded.  The
nameless assistant carried the case away.

Kuramoto pulled a card from his pocket and scribbled on it.  "Talk to
Trio," he said.  He gave her the card, and directions.  "He'll want
cash.  Probably quite a lot of it."

"Thank you."  Itsuko waited as Kuramoto left, made sure the van was
locked and the alarm reset, and then headed back into the fairground.
Almost immediately, she ran into an old friend.

"Itsuko-chan!" boomed Okuda Jiro, throwing his arms wide.  "Kalispera!
Ti kanis?"

She stifled a curse.  [Not _now_!]

She had first met Jiro twenty-two years ago.  She had been using the
name Ochida Junko back then, running a dojo in the upper levels of the
Olympus building ... and, then as now, doing a little smuggling on the
side.  She had befriended Jiro, still a young man at the time, at a
fair.  Over the next few years she had helped him out when she could,
and in time it paid off.

Even at that first meeting, she remembered, she had told him she was
half-Greek; already planning, two years ahead, for the day when she
would need a new name.  Later, when she needed help in turn, Jiro was
the one who introduced her to the people who could build her a new
identity; could make her into Pappadopoulos Itsuko.

They fell out of touch after that.  It was safest that way.  But
recently, when she'd found that her office in the Olympus was bugged,
she had had to call him again -- and, inevitably, he had noticed that
Itsuko had not aged.

That alone could make him dangerous.  But now, coupled with what Setsuna
had told her about him ... she felt a slow, cold rage begin to burn.

"Jiro-san," she responded coolly.

He looked hurt, but ploughed on.  "Sure didn' expect to see you here.
Thought you went straight, years back?"

"I still do a little," she said.  Her voice remained flat.

Jiro's eyes narrowed.  "Somethin' wrong, Itsuko-chan?  Anythin' I can
do to help?"

"No."  Itsuko started to turn away from him; but he put out a hand to
stop her.  Just as quickly, she struck his arm away.

He stood stock-still, looking at her, weighing the situation.  Then,
very quietly, he said, "What'd I do, Itsuko-chan?  I thought we were
friends."

"You?" she snapped.  "You've done _everything_!"

"I --?"

"You never told me you were Sankaku," she hissed, keeping her voice low.
Even here, that was not a fact to bandy about.  "You never told me who I
was dealing with, Jiro-san."

"So."  His face went suddenly blank; his eyes, alert.  "An' so what?" he
asked.

"So 'S' Division came to arrest me on Thursday.  Conspiracy charges!
Working with the Sankaku -- me!  I was lucky to get away."

"I can help," he said at once.  "We got resources; we can get around
this.  You don' know the whole story, Itsu--"

"Help?" she spat.  "I think you've done enough, don't you?  I don't need
your _help_, Jiro-san.  I don't think I need to see you ever again."

Before he could move again, she spun away and left him behind.

She stalked through the crowd mechanically, pushing people out of her
away when they did not move fast enough.  Her fists were clenched, her
teeth set.  She had wanted to hit him; the only thing that had stopped
her was remembering how bad an idea it was to start a fight at the fair.
But oh, how she had wanted to hit him ...

She stopped at a cart and bought a cold, sweet drink.  Sipping it helped
to restore her self-control.  As she calmed down, she began to wonder if
it had been a good idea to tell him that she knew he was Sankaku.  Well,
it couldn't be helped now.

With a sigh, she pulled Kuramoto's card from her pocket and glanced at
it.  'Trio.'  She grimaced, and set out through the fairground again.

                                  --**--

Jiro watched her go, and cursed to himself.  This, he had never
expected.  He knew that the Serries were nervous, but arresting Itsuko
seemed excessive.  Unless they knew, or suspected, more about her?

That she was Hino Rei, for instance.

It was hard to deal with her, knowing that.  Still harder to imagine
that she was still smuggling tea, of all things.  It made him prone to
mistakes; he had almost forgotten to greet her in Greek.

But if she was on the run now, she would have other priorities besides
smuggling; she would be trying to disappear.  He might lose track of her
completely --

Wait.  If she was on the run, she had probably come here tonight for new
identity papers.

Jiro found a private spot and pulled out his commset.  He punched in a
number and spoke rapidly.

                                  --**--

Near the rear of the fairground was a truck that matched Kuramoto's
description.  Itsuko studied it for a moment, noting with interest the
cable that led to a satellite dish mounted on the roof.  She knocked on
the rear door.

It opened, revealing a bleached-blonde woman with a flat-top haircut.
"Yes?" she said.

"I'm looking for a man called Trio," Itsuko said.

The woman raised her eyebrows.  "Oh?  And what makes you think he's
here?"

Itsuko passed her the card.  "Kuramoto-san sent me."

The woman studied it.  "Better," she said.  "Your name?"

"Pappadopoulos Itsuko."

"Wait."  The woman pulled out a commset and punched a single button,
without taking her eyes off Itsuko.  "Kuramoto-san?" she said.  "Did you
send me someone?"

She listened for a few seconds, then nodded and put the commset away.
"Come in," she said to Itsuko, and stepped back so Itsuko could climb
inside.

The back of the truck was lined with tables holding a bewildering array
of equipment: computers, printers, binders, laminators -- virtually a
mobile printing shop.  In one corner Itsuko could see a work area laid
out with pens, brushes and inkstones.  It was an encouraging sight; she
began to think that she might not be wasting her money.

Two men were working at computer terminals: a tall Claver who looked
African, and a smaller, rat-faced man who was Japanese like the woman.
Itsuko asked quietly, "Which one is --?"

The woman smiled.  "I'm Trio.  You can talk to me."

"Oh."  Itsuko glanced at them again, then back at the woman.  "Kuramoto
said 'he,'" she said, suddenly suspicious.

"They are also Trio."  The smile widened.  "There are three of us, of
course."

"... Of course."  Itsuko felt like an idiot.  To hide her discomfort, she
pulled out her satchel and opened it.  "I need a new fake ID," she said
brusquely.  "Plus a background upgrade on a different ID."

"Really," the woman drawled.  "Well, I expect we can do something about
that."  She glanced through the papers Itsuko handed her, clearly
amused.  "Birth certificate, bank accounts, tax records ... a full
credit history ... my, my.  And how much detail were you expecting in
all this?  Enough to take a casual glance, or something a little more
... sophisticated?"

"As thorough as you can make it," Itsuko said.  "I need to be able to
take scrutiny from 'S' Division."

"Ah."  The woman's teeth flashed.  "How interesting.  I trust you're not
in a hurry.  And I do hope you're feeling rich ... because you won't be,
by the time we're done."

                                  --**--

She left the truck much later, substantially poorer, with her satchel
full of papers.

It had been quite impressive, really, to see Trio at work.  They took
all the documents she gave them and then spent nearly an hour
questioning her, extracting still more information in bewildering
detail.  All of it went into the computers, and slowly, new documents
began to emerge.  As they worked they moved around the confined space of
the truck, from computer to printer to work desk and back, their efforts
perfectly coordinated even though they barely spoke to one other.

Two of them, anyway.  The third, the rat-faced man, was apparently
working on some other project; he stayed out of the way at a single
computer, his eyes glued to the screen, working as if driven.  Twice as
Itsuko waited, people she did not recognise entered the truck and spoke
to him.  One of them passed him a single sheet of paper; the other, a
data wand.  Each time, it seemed to spur him to more furious effort.
Itsuko wanted to ask the other Trio members what he was working on.  She
kept her mouth shut.

The other two did not seem to need him, in any case.  The bundle of
papers they gave her an hour and a half later looked impressively
official, and more importantly, impressively real -- right down to the
aged paper in the birth certificates and the hanko stamps.  The woman --
Itsuko never learned her name -- advised her to wait a week or so before
using some of the documents, to give the details time to propagate
through a network of government databases.  Itsuko nodded wisely and
tried to pretend she knew what the woman was talking about.

Now, outside once more, she stood blinking in the darkness for a minute
or two as she let her eyes readjust.  It was nearly three o'clock, and
the noise level of the fair had dropped a notch or two.  The hustle and
bustle was not over, not yet, but the activity was definitely beginning
to ebb.

Just a couple more things to do, and then she could go home and get some
sleep.  She yawned, shifted the satchel to her other arm, and set out
through the thinning crowd.

Almost immediately, she came to a stop as a hand touched her elbow.
"Pappadopoulos-san?" a voice murmured.  "I wonder if I might have a
word."

Not Jiro's voice.  She tried to shrug the hand off and step away, but
the voice added, "Or would you rather I called you Hino-san?"

She froze.

Slowly, she turned to face her assailant.  She recognised him, all too
well.  Tall and blond, with a prominent chin ... and an 'S' Division
agent.  He had tried to stop her escaping, two days before, in the
car-park of the Olympus building.

She said, "Get away from me, right now."

"Now, now," he said mildly.  "There's no need for unpleasantness.  All I
want is a quiet chat."

"Get _away_!  If I raise my voice --"

He let go of her and stepped a careful few centimetres back.  "I
wouldn't be rash, if I were you," he told her.  "Shouting won't help.
They know me here."

"They know --?"  She stared at him.  Then she hissed, "Do they know
you're 'S' Division?  If I mention that, you'll be dead in a second."

He said, "And if I tell them who _you_ really are?"

Itsuko was silent.

"It seems we both have something to lose," he remarked.

"What.  Do.  You.  Want?"

"I already said: just a quiet, polite little chat.  No strings attached.
Is that so much to ask for?"

She studied him for a moment, her teeth clenched.  "Say what you have to
say."

He nodded in approval, with a self-satisfied confidence that made her
want to punch him.  "I'm guessing that you came here for papers," he
said.  "New identities for you and the girl, and so forth.  I assume the
Hayashi girl is, er, one of you?  Well, never mind.  You made an
excellent choice, talking to Trio.  They're very, very good.  We always
have trouble trying to break their work -- it takes us days, sometimes."

Itsuko glared at him.

"Really, now," he said.  "Wouldn't it be better if you didn't have to
go through all of this?"

"Then get off my back!" she said.  "I am not a member of the Sankaku.  I
am not working with the Sankaku."

"Oh?  Prove it."

"_How_?"

He smiled.  "Come with me now.  Turn yourself in."

Itsuko snorted.

"No, hear me out," he insisted.  "It really is your best choice, you
know.  Look ... you think we _want_ to keep hounding you?  _You_, of all
people?  Hell, of course we know the evidence is circumstantial!  We're
not trying to persecute you for fun.  If you're innocent, you'll get the
chance to prove it."

"If you're so damn sure the evidence is circumstantial," she said
angrily, "why couldn't you investigate it first?  Why are you hounding
me now?"

"Because the Sankaku are involved," he said.  "That makes it a National
Security matter."  He shook his head.  "Unfortunately, it also makes our
options a good deal more limited."

He was sincere, Itsuko realised.  That was unexpected.  She was silent
for a minute, considering what he had said.  At last, cautiously, she
asked, "And if I decline your ... kind offer?"

The lightness dropped from his tone.  "Then all bets are off.  This case
has gone all the way to the top, and the orders are clear.  They want
you, Hino-san --"

"Don't call me that," she said automatically.

"-- Pappadopoulos-san, then.  They want you, and they'll have you.  If
you don't turn yourself in, the kid gloves come off.  I don't care what
papers Trio gave you; we will find you and we will take you.  And after
that ... even if you do turn out to be innocent, you can't expect your
identity to remain secret by the time the investigation's over.

"Please --"  He was almost pleading now.  "Make it easy on yourself."

Again she was silent, thinking it over.  He was probably telling the
truth, and in spite of herself, she was almost tempted.  But ...  "I
can't, don't you see?" she said.  "You know what's happening at the
moment.  The crystal creatures, the vitrimorphs.  The attacks.  I'm a
part of it.  I have a responsibility."

Very gently, he said, "Do you?  But you're not a Senshi any more, are
you?"

She could not restrain a shudder.  "That doesn't matter.  I was there; I
saw this all begin.  I need to -- to be sure ..."

"You were there," he repeated, almost under his breath.  She saw him
hesitate.  Then, in a rush, he said, "There's so much you could tell us.
What _happened_?  Who destroyed Crystal Tokyo, and why?  And why -- why
can't you become Sailor Mars any more?"

The question was so unexpected -- and so personal, and so completely
honest -- that she almost laughed.  "As to that," she began, then broke
off.  "See here, what _is_ your name, anyway?"

He blinked.  "Aoiro.  Captain Aoiro Takechi."

"Well, then, Captain Aoiro Takechi, as to that ..."  She waved one
finger at him.  "That is a secret."

He didn't get the joke, of course; he just looked puzzled, and
disappointed.

"Never mind."  Itsuko sighed.  "Look -- give me a little time, all
right?  Two or three days.  I ... need to think about all this."  He
looked unhappy, but she overrode the protest he was about to make.  "I
suppose I know where to find you, if I ... decide to work with you."

He studied her for a few heartbeats longer, and then bowed his head in
resignation.  "All right," he said.  "Just ... do the sensible thing."

"We'll see," she replied.  She was about to leave, but then turned back
at a sudden thought.  "What are you _doing_ here, anyway?  How did you
find out about the fair?"

Aoiro looked surprised.  Then he laughed out loud.  "Please," he said.
"Do you really think 'S' Division are that useless?  Credit us with some
competence.  We've known about the fairs for years.  We keep our hands
off, usually, because it's handy to keep the black market where you can
find it; but there are always a few agents about, keeping an eye on
things."

She stared at him, chastened.  "Oh."

"The fair officials know that we know, of course.  And they keep quiet
about it, for the same reason we do."  He gave her a quick look.  "The
_really_ dangerous types never come here.  They know better."

"But you keep watch anyway."

"Of course.  -- Well, not me personally.  I got called in when you were
seen here tonight.  Actually, it was quite a surprise to us.  We didn't
have a record of you as a dealer at all."

"I suppose," she said, "that I should take comfort in that."  She
scowled.  "If nothing else."

                                  --**--

After they parted, Itsuko watched him go carefully, nervous that he
might try to follow her.  Then she realised how foolish she was being.
Aoiro had just told her that there were other agents around.  They could
be anyone at all.  The man who'd sold her chestnuts; the woman walking
past with an armful of thin metal rods ... even one of the members of
Trio.  Or all of them.

She snorted.  Paranoia was the last thing she needed now.  Shaking her
head, she went on her way.  Just a little more to do, and then she could
finally go home.

She found the men who had asked her if she'd brought any trading goods
earlier, and sold the rest of her tea to them.  It didn't bring in a
lot, but after the amount she'd paid to Trio, every little helped.

And last, she went hunting and found the young woman she'd talked to
earlier, with her box of fake ornaments and, obviously, little idea what
to do with them.

She found her, rummaging through the crate dejectedly.  The level didn't
seem to have dropped much and Itsuko thought that she probably hadn't
sold anything at all.

The woman looked up as she approached.  "You again," she said.  "Come
back to laugh?"

Itsuko shook her head.  She studied the woman for a few seconds, and
decided that she liked what she saw.  "No offence, but ... you're kind
of new at this, aren't you?" she said quietly.

There was a sudden wariness in the woman's eyes, quickly hidden.  "What
if I am?" she demanded.  "What's it to you?"

Itsuko carefully did not smile.  [A new start,] she thought.  [A way
forward.]

A chance to begin again.  Someone who didn't know her as Itsuko, and so
wouldn't expect her to look older than she did.  Someone relatively
innocent, who could easily be bluffed when Itsuko suddenly became Seki.
And, best of all, someone who already knew the fairs.

After all, knowing what she knew now, it would be a long time before
Itsuko dared come back here.

"Oh, nothing," she said aloud.  "It's just that ... well, I've been
around a little, but I'm kind of at a loose end at the moment.  So I was
just wondering ..."

She smiled at the woman.  "Could you use a partner?"

                                  --**--

Aoiro checked the time and decided, with malice aforethought, to call
Captain Hiiro anyway.  Hiiro's voice was suitably groggy, but he woke up
quickly when Aoiro briefed him on what had happened.

"She's been to see Trio?" Hiiro repeated.  "Damn."

"Yeah.  I said we can break whatever they gave her."

"That'll be the day.  If we could break their work, we'd've had the
evidence to arrest them years ago."

"I know.  I wanted her nervous."

"Okay."  Hiiro was silent for a few seconds.  "You think she'll take
your offer?  Call you back?"

"Not a chance," Aoiro said regretfully.  "She asked for a few days to
think it over.  You know what that means."

"Hell, I taught _you_ that.  She wants time to get clear."  Hiiro
breathed heavily into the commset.  "Okay.  We take the other route,
then.  At least now we know."

                                  --**--

And then, finally, home.  An hour's drive back to Lake Tega to switch
vehicles, and then back to Third Tokyo by car.  Itsuko had to drive
slowly; she could barely keep her eyes open.

She reached the house a little after five in the morning.  The sun was
already up; the birds were singing.  She groaned, draped a heavy blanket
over her bedroom window, and crawled into bed.

She could not sleep.  Her mind was too busy.  Pondering Aoiro's veiled
threats.  Worrying about how trustworthy her new papers would be.
Remembering Jiro, and the bridges she had burned when she walked away
from him.  Trying to decide how long she had before Aoiro gave up
waiting to hear from her.

She tossed and turned restlessly.  The room was stuffy and hot.  Kami,
she was so tired.

She remembered the woman with her crate of ornaments, Gensai Eri.  She
had been understandably sceptical of Itsuko's sudden suggestion; but by
the time Itsuko had finished laying out her offer, she was enthusiastic.
It smacked of naivete, but Itsuko would help cure her of that.

But there was still so much to do; so much to plan; and always, so
little time to do it all.  If only she had a chance to stop and catch
her breath; if only the world would stop moving for just a little; if
only she could sleep ...

And then, unbelievably, she heard Miyo start to bustle about in the
kitchen, making breakfast.  She looked at the clock and bit her pillow
in an effort not to scream.

When Miyo burst into her room, carrying a steaming tray and bidding her
a cheerful good morning, she managed to smile.


                             ****************


Saturday afternoon was as hot and still as Friday had been.  August
would be hotter still; but even now, Third Tokyo baked under a blazing
sun.  Within the little aerodrome a few kilometres out of the city, the
wall thermometer hovered just below 34 degrees Celsius.  Outside, it was
several degrees higher.

Suzue ignored the heat as she walked from the flight-club rooms into the
main building.  She was feeling very pleased with herself.  Another
sixty minutes in her flight log book today; and the instructor had told
her that with a further three hours or so, she would be ready to solo.
She hummed to herself, a faint smile on her face.

A glance up at the clock showed that she had ten minutes before the next
train left for the city.  She felt the little purse in her pocket, and
went over to a nearby vending machine for a cold drink.  When she turned
around again, she jumped.  Minoru and Keiko were standing right in front
of her, grinning.

"Minoru-kun ... Keiko-chan," she said, startled.  "What are you doing
here?"  Her boyfriend and her best friend from school were the last
faces she had expected here.

"There, you see?" said Keiko, looking up at Minoru.  "I _said_ she'd be
pleased to see us."

Suzue gave her a mildly exasperated look.  "Well, of course I'm glad to
see you," she said.  "I just never thought --"

"She's winding you up," Minoru told her.  "Actually, we've been here for
a while.  I wanted to see you actually flying ... and Keiko-chan invited
herself along when I said I was going."

"Well, I've never been in an airplane," said Keiko, rather defensively.
"Is that thing really safe, Suzue-chan?  It looked awfully flimsy."

"Of course it's -- well, I suppose it's not _totally_ safe," Suzue
admitted.  "But Ashida-san is a very good instructor, and she says I'm
doing well."

"Oh ... if you say so."  Keiko looked out the window dubiously as
another two-seater plane taxied out to the runway.  "I just don't see
the attraction in it."

"When you've seen the view from up there, Keiko-chan ... the whole
world, spread out underneath you ..."  For a moment Suzue's eyes were
far away, seeing distant horizons.  "Then you'll understand.  There's
nothing like it."

Keiko let out a squawk.  "You expect _me_ to go up in one of those tiny
things?  I wouldn't dare!"

"Your loss," said Minoru cheerfully.  "Personally, I have a date in the
air with Suzue-chan ... as soon as she gets her license."

"That won't be for a while yet, of course," Suzue warned.

He winked at her.  "Who did the landing today?  The instructor, or you?"

"Oh ... I did."  Suzue tried to look modest.  Admittedly she had bounced
the airplane a couple of times, but she was improving at that.   Last
week's lesson had been little but landings.

She finished her drink and tossed the cup into a bin, and the three of
them headed out to the railway platform, chatting amiably.  The surprise
of the moment aside, Suzue was touched that her friends had come.  The
afternoon had already been good.  Now it was better.

The train hissed into the station, on time, three minutes later.  They
took seats in an almost-empty carriage.  As the train pulled out again,
Keiko said, "Hey, Suzue-chan, I never asked.  Where did you have to go
in such a hurry, after school on Thursday?  You ran off without saying a
word."

Suzue thought before she spoke.  She had gone to the warehouse to meet
Miyo and the others, of course.  "I had to see someone," she said
calmly.  "A friend I met recently.  She needed to talk about some
things."

"Oh?" said Minoru.  "Anyone I know?"

"I shouldn't think so," Suzue answered.  She thought about some of the
things Miyo had said that afternoon, after the bombshell about her name,
and added, "Though you could meet her soon.  I understand she may be
transferring into our school."


                             ****************


The day passed.  Miyo spent Saturday afternoon cleaning the windows of
her new house -- it was impossible yet to think of it as "home" -- and
scrubbing down the rear porch.  By the time she had finished, she had
scraped off a fair bit of flaking old paint as well, but the porch still
looked a hundred times better.

Afterward, she ventured into the garden.  The rear of the property was
large, and it was filled with a tangled web of overgrown bushes and
plants that looked, at first sight, like a solid mass of greenery.  The
few patches of lawn that were still visible were nearly knee-high.  She
spent an hour or two trying to bring a little order to the garden, but
it quickly became clear that she was not going to finish soon.  It was
going to take her weeks -- perhaps months -- to do a proper job.  She
looked forward to it with relish.

She tried to imagine how much a property this size would have cost back
in the 21st century, and winced.  More than fifty million yen, probably.
Even now, it would be expensive.  How long had Itsuko owned it?

Now and then, as she worked, she could not help glancing up at the roof
of the house.  A pair of ravens perched on the tiles, watching her.
They had been hanging around ever since she and Itsuko had moved in.
Itsuko called them Deimos and Phobos ... and they seemed to know her,
and were utterly unafraid when she threw them scraps of food.  Miyo had
even seen one of them fly down to perch on Itsuko's hand for a moment.

They bothered her.  There had been a pair of ravens at the shrine in
Crystal Tokyo, too, though she did not know if Rei had ever named them.
Was it just a tradition ... or something more?  The whole idea, the
sense that something small but uncanny was happening around her, was
troubling.  She found herself wondering if Rei had had birds back in the
Silver Millennium ... and if so, what kind they had been.  She could
have remembered if she had wanted; the hole Artemis had opened into her
memory was still there.  But she shied away from the attempt.

Best not to think about it at all, perhaps.

Thinking of Itsuko brought another troubling memory, anyway.  The woman
had gone somewhere, last night, and would not say where.  Miyo had
gotten up to use the bathroom at three o'clock, and Itsuko's bed had
still been empty.  Where had she been, and why?  Above all, why wouldn't
she talk about it?  Did it have something to do with her cryptic comment
about identity papers?  Why wouldn't she just _say_?

Miyo had thought they were friends again, but they were going to have to
have another talk about trust.  After everything else that had happened,
this new secrecy was intolerable.

That, of course, brought her to the big problem that she was trying not
to think about: namely, everything else that had happened.  Yet again,
she had been uprooted and thrown into a new, unwanted life.  On top of
what her family had done to her, it might almost have seemed a bit much.

To tell the truth, though, this new change wasn't actually all that bad.
She looked around the garden again, and thought that it even had its
redeeming features.  Having to run had been a horrible shock at first,
yes, but not nearly as much as when her father threw her out.

That one still hurt, but the pain was beginning to fade at last.  She
no longer thought about it every day; about the family she had had.  One
might say that she was getting used to losing families -- a horrible,
bitter thought.  Except that it was not quite true.  There was one
family that she had never lost; one which had been with her in three
lifetimes now.  And if the members of that new, extended family were not
actually blood relatives, or even all human, still they were no less
precious.  She thought of that, from time to time, and tried to draw
comfort from it.  Sometimes it helped.

She mopped her brow, and paused to look down at the hand that had done
it, and at the new, golden colour of her skin.  No, this new change was
not all bad.  Looked at in the right way, it could be seen as an
adventure -- even romantic, as Beth had said.  In other ways, it was not
too different from moving house.  True, the house was old and rundown;
but once she and Itsuko had finished, she thought it would be quite
nice.  There was a new neighbourhood to learn, and a new school; but not
everyone at school would be a stranger.  It had been a pleasant surprise
to realise that she and Suzue would be schoolmates.  She looked forward
to learning more about the girl.

No, the biggest problem -- she looked down at her hand again -- was
having to change her appearance, and even her name.  She had been pretty
upset about that for a while.  She and Itsuko had had quite a shouting
match on the subject, on Thursday afternoon.  It was still a shock every
time she looked in the mirror, or when she heard Itsuko's voice and
looked up to see a stranger.

She was upset about it, yes, but she could see that it was no better for
Itsuko.  The woman stumbled over names and jumped at mirrors just as
often as Miyo did ... though she could not help thinking that Itsuko
really ought to be used to doing this by now.  Itsuko had lost as much
as Miyo had -- Miyo knew that losing the Olympus building had been a
blow to her -- and she had the additional worry of needing to find a way
to support the two of them.  But she never complained.  Her lips would
tighten and her jaw clench, and Miyo knew that she wanted to shout or
break something; but instead she just buckled down and got on with it.
Perhaps that was the result of experience.  Perhaps it was simply
maturity.

Either way, having Itsuko around made the whole thing more bearable.
Maybe it was because misery loved company.  Or maybe it was because both
of them were fighters.

Well, if this was a new battle, Miyo had decided that she was not going
to lose.  And it did have its compensations.

She paused again to relax her aching back, and glanced at her watch.
The shadows were lengthening; it was getting late.  Time to think about
eating.  She picked up her garden tools and went inside to wash up and
start on dinner.

                                  --**--

The evening passed quietly.  They did not have a viddy set yet, and
there were only a few books in the house.  Miyo thought about going out
and meeting Dhiti somewhere, but she did not really feel like it.  It
would have seemed awkward, with the way she looked now: like being a
stranger at a party.  Instead, she lay on her bed and chatted with Dhiti
over her Senshi communicator, and almost managed to feel as if nothing
were different.

Itsuko, for her part, spent the evening brooding.  Thankfully, she had
managed to get a little sleep during the day.  However, a clearer head
also brought a clearer understanding of what she had to do.  Her meeting
with Captain Aoiro had probably bought her a little time, but it was
impossible to tell how much.  She suspected that he had lied to her
about how easy her new papers would be to trace -- but if he had lied
about that, he could have been lying about everything.  The grace period
before they started hunting her again might be vanishingly small.

If she were to do what she was contemplating, it would have to be
tonight.

                                  --**--

Miyo turned in early.  She lay in bed for a long time, tired but still
too unfamiliar with her new bed to be comfortable in it.  At last she
dropped off, and dreamed that she and Chiba Mamoru were dancing a slow
waltz under a velvet-black sky.  He handed her a flower, and she knew it
would be a rose; but instead it turned out to be a camellia, and then he
waved his hand and it turned into a lily and --

She woke up.

All her senses were on alert.  Something had woken her, but what?  A
faint noise, like the closing of a door.  She lay in bed, face buried in
her pillow, and listened.  The house was silent.  She held her breath --
twenty, forty heartbeats -- but heard nothing.  She was just beginning
to relax again when, faint and distant, a sound came.  The electric
whine of a car engine starting up.

She sat up and touched the stud on her communicator-watch.  It lit up to
show her the time: nearly half past one.  Far off, the engine sound rose
and then faded away.

She got out of bed and padded through to Itsuko's room.  The bed was
empty.

[Damn it, _again_?!] she thought angrily.  Where was Itsuko going _this_
time?  All the secrecy, trying to slip out without being noticed ...
Miyo was being treated like a little child, and it rankled.  She stared
at the bed, fists clenched, and then turned away with a silent curse.

She stomped back to her room, still grumbling to herself, and sat down
on the bed.  Then, still too annoyed to think about sleeping again, she
got back up and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

When she turned on the light, she saw a note fixed to the refrigerator.

     Mako-chan -- if you read this, don't worry.  I have to go out for a
     while.  I'll be back in an hour or so.

     Seki.

Underneath, in a faster, sloppier hand, was added:

     If I'm not back by morning, do what you have to do.  I trust you.

Miyo read it over three times, growing more alarmed each time.  What was
Itsuko doing?  The first part was surely meant to be reassuring; but the
postscript was different.  It almost read as if Itsuko expected --

Suddenly galvanised, Miyo raced back to her bedroom.

                                  --**--

The sound of her communicator woke Dhiti.  She jerked upright in a
panic, then fumbled around for several seconds before she found the
device.

"Hello!" she whispered into it frantically.  "Yes!  I'm awake!  Who is
it?"  Across the room, dimly, she saw Artemis on his feet, staring at
her in alarm.

"Dhiti-chan?"  It was Miyo's voice.  "I need your help."

"What, at this hour?"  Dhiti looked across at the illuminated figures on
her clock and cringed.  "Hayashi, what's wrong?"

"I don't know yet.  Can you meet me outside?"

"Uh ... all right.  Outside where?"

"Outside your house.  I'm waiting for you now."

Dhiti turned off her communicator, said a few choice things about Miyo
under her breath, and got up.  (Artemis turned away hastily.  At this
time of year, Dhiti did not wear anything in bed.)  She reached for her
clothes drawer ... and then thought again, and produced her henshin wand
instead.

Moments later, Sailor Mercury slid the window open and dropped silently
to the ground outside.  A white cat followed her.

As she had expected, it was Sailor Jupiter, not Miyo, who waited for her
by the front gate.  "Hayashi," she said in a low voice.  "What is it?
Another vitrimorph attack?"

"No," said Jupiter.  "At least, I hope not.  But --"  She explained the
situation hastily.

Mercury listened, frowning.  When Jupiter had finished, she said, "Uh ...
you don't think you might be overreacting?  I mean, it sounds a little
odd, but --"

"You didn't read that note, Dhiti-chan.  'If I'm not back by morning, do
what you have to do.'  Does that sound like she's just gone to get some
fresh air?"

"It sounds worrying, yes," put in Artemis, "but it may not be as bad as
you think.  Miyo, you must know that Itsuko has other ... contacts in
the city.  Illicit ones.  She could easily be seeing one of them."

Illicit contacts?  That was news to Dhiti, and deliciously tantalising;
but she put it aside for now and said, "Face it, Hayashi, you don't know
_where_ she's gone."

"No, but you might," argued Jupiter.  "Don't you remember?  Artemis gave
her a communicator.  You might be able to track it with your computer!"

"God, Hayashi, you're making it sound all cloak-and-dagger.  Why not
just call her?  If she's got a communicator, you can _ask_ her what's
going on."

"No!  Don't you see?  If she's doing something dangerous, having her
communicator go off could give her away!"

Mercury stared at her, wondering if Jupiter had any idea how she
sounded.  "What do you think she's doing, for heaven's sake?  Meeting
Sankaku agents, or raising a revolutionary army?  Come on!  There's got
to be a more reasonable explanation for --"  She saw the other girl's
expression, and sighed.  Hayashi was really upset.  "Oh ... all right."

She pulled out her computer and flipped it open.  "Let's see ..."  She
started to type rapidly, bringing up a series of tracking displays.
Information raced past on her visor.  She didn't much like computers,
but they weren't that hard once you knew what you were doing.

"You're getting good at that," remarked Artemis.

She looked over to where he sat on the fence.  "Well, I _have_ been
practising," she said smugly.  "You told me to, remember?"

"Just get on with it!" said Jupiter.

"Patience, Hayashi, or I'll tell Suzue-chan about the slugs.  Just give
me a moment ..."  Her computer beeped, and she grinned.  "Got her!  Not
that far away from here, either."  Fingers flew, and she brought up a
map display.  "Huh.  I should have thought of that.  She's at the
Olympus.  Now why would she ..."

Abruptly, she realised what she was saying.  She stared at Jupiter and
Artemis, her eyes wide.  "She must be out of her mind," she said.

They stared back, equally aghast.  Artemis said, "The one place she
_knows_ they're watching, and she's headed straight into the lion's
mouth!"

"Oh, _no_.  I've got to --"  Jupiter whirled, and sprinted away into the
night.

Mercury flipped her computer closed and thought quickly.  "I'm going
after her," she told the cat.  "Artemis, call the others.  Tell them to
meet us there -- and fast."

Then she, too, was gone.

                                  --**--

 From across the street, Itsuko stared at the Olympus building.  She was
tense, nervous.  Now that she was actually here, looking at her former
home, the difficulty of her task seemed magnified enormously.

It had seemed so easy, before she left: go in, fill a firepot from the
sacred fire, and get out again before 'S' Division could arrive.  The
little secret room beside her office should still be safe.  If she was
quick enough, there would be no danger.

Well, not much danger, anyway.  But she would risk far more than this to
retrieve the sacred fire.

(For a moment, the dead face of Genichi swam in her memory, and the
wreckage of the Hikawa shrine.  _Never again_.)

She kept on watching.  The gymnasium stayed open all night, but at this
hour it had few customers.  She could see lights in the second floor
windows, and once a figure walking past.  Around her, the streets were
nearly empty; a few cars per minute, no more.  None of them stopped.

... The real trouble was, she knew that 'S' Division was monitoring the
building.  She herself had seen the security cameras being put in place,
weeks before.  Even her private staircase down to the car park was no
longer a secret, since she'd used it to escape two days before.

How to get in?

She had considered going ahead and using the private staircase anyway.
She had even toyed with wilder ideas: climbing up to the roof, for
example, and letting herself down on a rope, or through the elevator
shaft.  Romantically tempting, but ridiculously impractical, even if she
could get to the roof at all.  Or she could go up the fire escape and in
through her office window -- right under the view of the cameras.  That
was no improvement.

In the end, simplest was best.  Speed would be her friend.  In and out
like a flash, without stopping, and she would be gone before they could
arrive.  They would never have a chance to touch her.

And she was wasting time.  She took a deep breath, jogged across the
street, and in through the main entrance of the building.

[Okay.  Assume they've seen me.  Clock's ticking.]

The staircase was just inside the entryway, on the right.  She ran up
four flights, emerging on the third floor.  No one was in sight.  She
turned left, following the corridor around to her office door.  Still
nobody.

The door was unlocked.  She opened it and looked around quickly ... and
froze, staring in dismay.  The office was in ruins, its contents strewn
everywhere.  She stood for a minute, gazing at the waste of her career.

Then, brutally, she forced herself to move.  Ruins or not, she had a job
to do and no time to lose.  She went in, closing the door behind her,
and walked across the office in the dark.

The hidden contacts in the wall moved easily under her touch, and the
secret door clicked open.  Itsuko stepped through gingerly.

Firelight glowed in her face, and she almost fainted with relief.

She moved forward and bowed reverently to the fire.  The flames seemed
to wave in reply.  Then she turned away.  A low shelf nearby held what
she needed; she picked up an insulated firepot, and started to turn back
to the fire --

A soft movement came from behind her.  A voice said, "I think that's
about enough."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and knew that she had lost.

Looking around, she saw the man who had tried to arrest her two days
before: Hiiro.  His face was covered with barely healed scratches from
Artemis' claws and teeth.  Red light reflected in his eyes.

She let the firepot fall to the floor.  It struck with a dull clatter
and rolled away without breaking.

Another man emerged from the shadows at the rear of the secret room:
Captain Aoiro.  "I told you to credit us with a little competence," he
told her sadly.  "The door wasn't even hidden all that well."

"Quiet," Hiiro said, and Aoiro fell silent at once.  Hiiro went on,
"Hino-san, do we need to go through the formalities?  You are under
arrest, on charges of forgery, tax fraud and criminal conspiracy against
the government of Japan.  And resisting arrest.  Other charges may be
laid later.  Do you have anything to say?"

She shook her head, mute.

"All right then."  He gestured, and she held out her hands.  Hiiro
produced a pair of handcuffs from somewhere.  He snapped one cuff over
her left wrist, and was just bringing the other cuff down --

Itsuko dropped to the floor, yanking herself free from his grasp.  In
the same motion, she launched herself backward, out through the door and
into her office.  She heard a confused shout from Aoiro.  She stumbled
to her feet, skidding on a loose sheet of paper, and lurched toward the
exit.

The office lights flicked on.  She winced at the sudden light, and then
froze at the sight of the man standing between her and the door.  The
burly, unshaven man who had been with Hiiro on Thursday; she had never
heard his name.

Behind her, Hiiro said quietly, "I told you, that's enough."

[I'm sorry,] Itsuko thought in a sudden burst of grief.  [Makoto-chan,
Setsuna-chan ... Genichi-san ... I've failed.  I'm sorry ...]

Aoiro took her by the arms, holding her firmly.  She felt a hand on her
wrist, and waited for Hiiro to put the other cuff on her.

A voice from the window said, "Let her go."

                                  --**--

Sailor Jupiter stepped in through the window and halted by Itsuko's
desk, facing the three men.  A spark of fury was in her eyes, and a
grim, determined look on her face that told them she was ready for
battle.  Her fists were clenched, and a pearly, electric glow seemed to
cling about them.

"I said, let her go," she repeated.

Captain Hiiro hesitated.  Itsuko saw him swallow, and wondered what was
running through his head.  Was he afraid?  But when he spoke, his voice
did not waver.

He said, "Ma'am, I am conducting a legal arrest of a wanted criminal.
You are interfering with government business.  Please leave, and let us
do our jobs."

Jupiter's expression did not change at all.  She said, "Last chance.
Let her go or I'll fry you."

The nimbus of light about her fists seemed to gather and brighten.

Hiiro took one step back, and for one moment of incredulous hope Itsuko
thought he was going to obey.  Then he said, quietly, "Mitsukai.  Now."

A figure exploded from under the desk, just behind Jupiter: a woman,
wiry and thin.  Before Jupiter could react, she lunged up and clapped a
fist-sized object to Jupiter's neck.  Instantly, a metal band snapped
closed around the senshi's throat.

Jupiter convulsed.  A short bark of a scream burst from her lips.  There
was a loud crackle, and the metal rod on her tiara flared with a wild
burst of light.  Electric sparks danced around it, arcing to the desk
nearby.  With a cry of pain, Mitsukai was flung away from her.  Jupiter
staggered backward, and screamed again.

More bolts of electricity flew, filling the air with the sharp smell of
ozone.  A bundle of papers on the floor caught fire.  She spasmed, again
and again, unable to control her body.  Then one final burst of light
came from her, so brilliant that they had to shield their eyes.  As it
faded, she wobbled and slumped to the floor, face-down, unconscious.

A moment later she shimmered and became an ordinary teenage girl,
dressed in rather scanty pyjamas.

"Miyo-chan!" Itsuko shouted.  She struggled in Aoiro's arms, in vain.

"Son of a bitch," Kuroi muttered.  "It actually worked."

Gingerly, Mitsukai stood back up, looking pale and shaken.  She started
toward the fallen girl, favouring one leg, until Hiiro waved her back.
Instead she leaned back against the wall, her face pale.  Stray wisps of
hair clung to her face as if electrified, and she brushed them back.

Hiiro knelt down at the unconscious girl's side and flipped her over
onto her back.  "I don't know her," he said.  "No, wait.  Yes, I do.
Hayashi Miyo, I believe?"

"You bastard!" Itsuko snarled.

He only shook his head wearily.  "If 'M' Division can outfit an Opal to
track Senshi powers, it's only a short step further to work out how to
block those powers," he said.  As he spoke, he unfastened the device
from Miyo's neck.  "This unit is a prototype, but I dare say we can make
more, now that we know it works."

He glanced up at Itsuko and added, "She's alive, by the way.  And you
needn't worry; I have no orders to arrest Sailor Jupiter.  She's welcome
to blow up all the crystal monsters she wants."

He left Miyo lying on the floor, kicked the burning papers away from
her, and said to Itsuko, "You, on the other hand, are coming with us."

He turned away from her and tossed the device back to Mitsukai, who
caught it deftly.  To Kuroi he went on, "Ryozo, call Kitada.  Tell him
to bring the van round to the front of the building.  You and I will --"

There was a sudden, thunderous knock at the door.

"Shit."  Hiiro gestured quickly to Aoiro and Kuroi, and they fanned out
to either side of the door.  "What now?" he demanded to Itsuko.  "More
of your friends?

Before she could answer, the door shuddered under another blow.  Then,
with a roar, it burst open.  The frosted glass pane exploded; splinters
of wood flew from the shattered latch.  The door struck the wall
violently, mere centimetres away from where Aoiro was crouching, and
hung loosely on broken hinges.

Kuroi swore violently.

As the last fragments of glass hit the floor, four men walked in.  They
were tall and bulky, dressed in drab, cheap-looking clothing.  They
moved ponderously, almost clumsily.  But what chilled Itsuko, as she saw
them, was the flat, empty look in their faces.  A dead look.

Hiiro came forward to meet them.  There was no uncertainly or
apprehension in his face: just a cool, assured calm.  "Can I help you?"
he asked.

The leader approached him, pulled out a card, and held it out in one
big, ungainly hand.  Hiiro took it and read it.

"Government ID.  For the ... the 'Technical Enforcement Network'?"  He
looked up at the stranger, one eyebrow raised.  "What, is this a joke?
I've never heard of that outfit --"

He broke off.  His eyes moved to one of the other newcomers.

The man had been looking around slowly, his head turning from side to
side as if searching for something.  Now, suddenly, he moved, stepping
toward Mitsukai.  The woman's eyes widened a fraction, but she held her
ground.  For a moment the two of them stood face-to-face.  Then,
shockingly quick, the man's hand flashed out.  She tried to defend
herself, but too slowly.  There was a sickening crack, and then he moved
back, holding the device she had been carrying.

She cried out and clutched her arm, which was bent at an unnatural
angle.  Kuroi cursed and started toward the two -- only to stop short at
what happened next.

The man looked blankly down at the device he had taken.  Then, slowly,
he closed his grip on it.  The metal case buckled and collapsed in his
fist; they could all hear the crunching and tinkling of delicate
components.  His expression never changed.  Then the unit dropped to the
floor, a useless, twisted piece of junk.

Itsuko started to have a very bad feeling about this.

Quietly, Hiiro said to the newcomers' leader, "I don't know what you
think you're doing, but --"

"Captain," interrupted Aoiro, his voice thin and strained.  "Captain, I
don't know what this is about, but I recognise one of these men."  He
let go of Itsuko with one hand, to point at one of the four newcomers.
"That one.  He's Morimoto Eiji, a career criminal ... and he's supposed
to be in jail right now, serving a nine-year sentence."

Hiiro stood motionless for a moment, his eyes never leaving the leader.
He said, "Explain."

The leader stirred.  In a voice as flat and dead as his face, he said,
"You will release the woman into our custody."

Hiiro laughed.  "Will I hell."

"You have your orders.  Our authority exceeds yours.  You will release
the woman into our custody."

The impasse lasted another moment.  Then, calmly and deliberately, Hiiro
reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.  He levelled it at the
leader's face.  In the rear of the room, Aoiro and Kuroi followed suit.

"I don't think so," said Hiiro softly.

And another voice said, "That's right.  She isn't going anywhere with
either of you."

                                  --**--

One by one, four more Senshi entered the room: Venus and Uranus through
the window, and Mercury and Mars through the shattered door.  As she
came in, Sailor Mercury exclaimed in dismay and ran to the fallen Miyo's
side.  The others stayed back, observing the confrontation taking place.
Their faces were stern and implacable, their eyes fierce.

Even Mars, Itsuko thought; even Mars.  The timid girl looked as resolute
as the others.  She felt a sudden blaze of pride in all of them.

The four exchanged glances.  Then Sailor Venus stepped forward and said,
"I don't pretend to know what's going on here.  But you're holding one
of our own, and we can't allow that.  Release Pappadopoulos Itsuko, and
we'll leave you be.  But if you threaten her, then in the name of the
planet Venus --"

Sailor Uranus stepped to her side.  "And Uranus --"

Mars joined them.  "And Mars --"

Sailor Mercury rose to her feet again.  "And Mercury," she said, her
voice cold.

"-- We will defend her!"

The oath dropped like a pebble into a suddenly silent room.  For a
brief second, nobody moved.  Hiiro's eyes were very wide.  Itsuko felt
as if her heart were going to burst.

Then, as one, the four men threw their heads back and started to laugh.
They did it in eerie, perfect unison; even their mocking guffaws were
synchronised.

At the same time, they started to change.

Their face stretched, distorted; their bodies swelled grotesquely.  The
drab clothes they wore split and fell away, revealing flesh that seemed
translucent, almost faceted.  Their limbs became monstrous, club-like
things.  Within seconds they had become gigantic mockeries of men,
towering over the others, their heads almost touching the ceiling.

Still they laughed.

Sailor Uranus responded first.  She ducked to one side, lifted her
hands, and started to shout: "MUSIC OF THE --"

In the instant she began to move, the laughter stopped.  The vitrimorph
she was aiming at moved with unexpected speed, spinning away from her.
The floor groaned under its weight.  As it came to a halt once more, it
swung one giant fist ... and struck Captain Aoiro on the shoulder,
clubbing him casually away from Itsuko as if he were weightless.  He
smashed into the filing cabinets with a cry of pain.

Uranus shifted to try and track it.  Before she was in place, the
vitrimorph reached out -- and its hand closed around Itsuko's head.

Itsuko felt cold crystal against her skin, and gasped.  There was enough
of a gap between the massive fingers for her to see what was happening,
but she did not dare move.  The grip was gentle ... for now.

The vitrimorph turned its eyes back toward Uranus, who stood frozen in
mid-attack.  In an ugly, gloating voice it said, "Think you can shoot
fast enough?"

The four began to laugh again.

Uranus stared at it, irresolute.

And in that instant, the lights went out.

The room was plunged into darkness.  Even the corridor beyond the office
door was black.  Only a dim band of red-gold across the floor remained,
coming through the open door from the sacred fire.  For a second, they
all froze in shock.  The moment seemed to stretch, as if the whole room
held its breath.

Then, in an instant, all became chaos.  "What the hell --?" someone
shouted.  There were more shouts in answer.  Footsteps.  A loud crash as
someone knocked something over.  Itsuko felt the grip on her head
tighten convulsively, and she screamed in pain.  The fingers relaxed a
little.

There was a light coming from somewhere: a dim glow, pearly white,
faint but growing.

More shouts; more footsteps.  "Find the goddamn switch!"  The floor
shook as a vitrimorph took one heavy step.  A girl's voice, shouting a
warning.  There were three sets of mutual enemies in this room, and they
were beginning to panic.  When they did, Itsuko knew that she would be
the first to suffer.

The pale glow was getting brighter.  Where was it coming from ...?

Then a strange noise, like a faint chiming.  All other sound seemed to
fade away, and in the growing light, they all saw it happen: a small,
delicate object flew across the room and embedded itself, deadly
accurate, in the eye of one of the vitrimorphs.  The monster staggered
back, and they saw the missile clearly.

A rose.

Another object followed it.  A discus of energy, shining a brilliant
gold, it traced a lambent curve through the air that touched the arm of
the vitrimorph holding Itsuko ... and, with a sharp crack, cut straight
through it.  The fingers on Itsuko's face tightened once more, then
loosened forever.  With a heavy thud, the arm and hand struck the floor.
The wounded vitrimorph gave a strange, almost animal cry.

The disc arced around in the direction it had come: back to the other
door in the office, the one that led into Itsuko's apartment.  A hand
rose up to catch it.  As it came to a halt, the disc's golden radiance
winked out, and it became ... something else.  Delicately, the catcher
lifted it up and replaced it on her forehead.

Two figures stepped forward in the light.  The one in the rear was tall
and dark, clad all in black, wearing a long cape and a kind of hat that
had not been seen in centuries.  A simple white mask covered his eyes.

In front of him was a young girl, in a familiar costume.  Her words were
familiar, too.

"You who would threaten an innocent woman, and you who serve the great
enemy that destroyed the world -- beware.

"I am Sailor Moon, a champion of love and justice.  Princess of the Moon
Kingdom and heir to the throne of Queen Serenity of Crystal Tokyo, I
will right wrongs and triumph over evil.  And in the name of the Moon --
I'll punish you!"


------------------------------------------------------------------------
      S   A   I   L   O   R       M   O   O   N       4   2   0   0
------------------------------------------------------------------------
                E N D   O F   C H A P T E R   T W E L V E
------------------------------------------------------------------------

NEXT:  Many meetings; a foe unmasked and a secret laid bare; and, at
last, the fight carried to the enemy.



Sincere thanks to the pre-readers who helped improve this chapter: Chris
Angelini, Elsa Bibat, Chester Castenada, Jed Hagen, David McMillan, Bert
Miller, Aaron Nowack, Helmut Ott, Steve "Komodo" T. and LaShawn Wanak.
Draft version: 24 October, 2005.
final version: 27 November, 2005.

-- 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angus MacSpon                                    Email: macspon@ihug.co.nz
ICQ: 65719513                            http://shell.ihug.co.nz/~macspon/

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