Author's Note: In order to address some relevant questions, I'd like to share a review response.

Thank you for reading. A lot of people have trouble with the very BIG obstacle of me yanking Demando into my stories for the sake of possible romance. If it helps, I think of him as the anime version, the one who sacrificed his life to protect Sailor Moon, not the one who tried to kill her. Big difference. -;;

I do feel that I have a better motivation for it than a simple fangirl appreciation of his bad-boy good looks. When I first watched Saior Moon R and the Black Moon clan appeared as the enemies, I was absolutely taken with the mystery of the people who had black concave moon insignias on their foreheads. I'm utterly enchanted by the whole yin-yang/perfect opposite archetype. It makes for some really interesting plot bunnies. Then when I was introduced to Demando (Dimande, Diamond) for the first time, well, it was love at first sight (as a fangirl who likes pretty boys and intriguing characters, kekeke). Let's just say Demando's part in the story is much greater than that of a simple Usagi-admirer. He holds his own, that's for sure.

Thanks for letting me know about Makoto and Minako. Characterizations are really important to me, and I actually did some internet research to refresh my memory for this story. I want to stay true to the characters we all know and love.

That being said, I would expect some very minor changes in characterization, for the simple reason that our heroines have aged since we last saw them. Even in the StarS season, Usagi was starting to show some sobriety and maturity, so I let her keep that - not that she's no longer our endearing airhead klutz but that she tends to have moments of clairty a bit more frequently. -;

And thanks for noticing the "monster-of-the-day" trend. I'm enjoying them, myself!

Lastly, I don't write my stories with set pairings for the endings because for me, plot comes before shipping. So stay tuned for romance drama. Mamoru hasn't even come back yet. Oh yes. I'm bringing him into this!

Also, in response to another reviewer's question, I tend to throw in any random attacks of the senshi's. That is an artistic choice, for the mere sake of variety. In this story, we're going to pretend the senshi keep all attacks, old and new.

Suki

Episode IV

/ Minako’s Idol /

Fingers disturbed the surface of cool water, trembling outwards in rings and lapping upon stone.

“They’d already tainted the operation. I thought it best to call it off.”

Ai lifted her fingers and flicked off dewy drops of water. She rose from her perch on the side of the courtyard fountain, to better address her companion.

“How so?”

“They were interfering with my host." Nami crossed her arms and looked down in reserved frustration.

Ai moved gracefully around her and glided across the cobbled yard, but her stroll had no discreet direction. “You need to note these things.” She sighed. “I don’t like you involving so many innocents, Nami-chan. As I told you before.”

“No one was hurt,” Nami said, raising her hands in an attempt to absolve herself.

“That’s not the point. You need to find a less hands-on way to attract the pomegranate girl . . . something pervasive yet non-physical.”

Nami re-crossed her arms and shook her head, eyes upward. “What could be so pervasive and simultaneously abstract that can reach one out of thousands?”

Ai swiveled her torso sharply, so that she was partially turned, like a posing dancer. An amused smile crossed her lips.

“Think about it.”

Beams stabbed through the cloudy sky, setting alternating patterns of light and shadow across the temple steps. There was a cool breeze, and the two young women, who were wrestling up the stairs, wore long sleeves and close-toed shoes.

Usagi strengthened her grasp on Minako’s wrist. Minako in turn let her weight fall forward as much as she dared, in order to loosen the other’s hold. But Usagi was not about to give up easily, and she reinforced her grasp with a second hand.

Minako managed to slip under Usagi’s arm like a dance partner, twisting Usagi’s torso in the process and forcing her to let go to avoid flipping.

“Minako-chan, dooonnn’t!” Usagi cried, immediately renewing her grasp on the blonde’s appendage.

“Mm, mm, mm,” Minako made a smug face and continued to climb onward. “I’m going to tell if you don’t meet the terms of agreement.”

“What agreement?” Usagi said dramatically; but at this sort of game, at least against Minako, she was quite outmatched. “I never agreed to anything.”

“Then gossip it is!”

“Fine!” Usagi threw her hands up, the sudden lapse of pressure causing Minako to teeter on the edge of a stair. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t tell the others – especially Rei-chan – about Demando giving me a kiss!” She put a hand to the side of her mouth and lowered her head as if spying ears hid in the looming trees. “She’ll jump to all sorts of conclusions and blow it out of proportion. Besides,” she exclaimed, all efforts at discreetness dissipating, “he was just being polite, and . . . and it wasn’t like that. You wouldn’t understand at all.” She ended in a pouting, slouched posture.

Minako raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

“Minako!”

“All right,” she smiled largely, so that her cheeks rose up, nearly squishing her eyes closed. “Here.” She lifted a large knapsack and held it forward to Usagi. “You get to carry this up to the shrine.”

Dropping the item into Usagi’s less-than-eager hands, she trotted up the remaining stairs, light as the breeze that came drifting eastward.

Zakuro sat absently on the balcony over-looking the dappled streets. She had her legs through the bars, shoeless, so that they could air out in the springy coolness. She swung them like alternating pendulums, and gazed out in the distance at nothing in particular.

“I think she needs a friend,” Beruche said from where she watched her at her place in the living room.

“I think we should leave her alone,” Saffir said coolly. He was reclining on the couch next to Beruche, arms behind his head.

“Don’t you think,” Beruche mused, fingering the braid crowning her forehead, “that by helping her we might find some answers of our own?”

Saffir seemed to take this in. Then he shrugged. “If she has anything to do with us.”

“You know she does!” Beruche leaned toward him for emphasis. “Look at her earrings – my God, look at her face!”

Saffir frowned deeply. “What do you mean?”

Beruche shook her head. Her fire diminished, as if cooled by the sobering wind called doubt. “Never mind. Forget I said it.”

At these words, Beruche alit from the couch and walked to the screen door, sliding it open begrudgingly.

Zakuro turned to greet her as she came into the cool outdoors.

“Hey, it’s kinda chilly out here. You should put a sweater on.”

Zakuro shrugged.

“Did you finish all of your schoolwork?”

She nodded.

“Even the math?”

“Yes. I had Saffir-san help me on the hard ones.”

“Well, hey,” she said, sitting down cross-legged next to the brooding girl. “Why don’t I take you on a fun outing, hm? Do you like video arcades?”

Zakuro raised a single eyebrow.

“No. How about the shopping mall?”

“What do you do there?”

“Oh dear.” Beruche put a palm to her temple. What did normal adolescent girls like to do? Find that, then apply it Zakuro . . . not going to be easy.

“I know! There’s a really cute fandom store I know, not too far out of the district. It’s got all sorts of things – plushies, trading cards, manga, key chains, posters, even anime-themed cooking utensils. There’s bound to be something interesting there. Would you like to try it!”

Zakuro looked doubtful, but the warm glow of Beruche’s smile caused it to melt. She nodded agreement.

“Everyone present and accounted for,” Artemis stated. He liked to sound put-together and in charge, if he could help it.

“Can’t be long, though,” Minako said; she stroked him on the back, completely undoing any sense of patronizing dignity Artemis might have worked up. She finished by pulling – swish! – along his tail. “I’ve got an audition in a little while.” She smiled brightly and threw a little wave at Usagi.

Usagi plopped onto the ground, an overgrown knapsack aiding her earthward with gravitational pull.

“What’s all that?” Ami asked.

Before Usa could speak, Minako chimed, “Oh, those are all my costume and accessories.”

“You bring them to the audition with you?” asked Artemis.

“Yep!” Minako nodded cheerily. “It brings a little something more, an extra kick of enthusiasm to my performance.”

“Wow, you think of everything,” Luna said, not un-admiringly.

“That’s awfully nice of you to carry Minako’s things for her,” Rei said, eyeing Usagi uncertainly.

The others agreed.

“Why would you be doing that?” Makoto asked, filling in the blanks of the others’ un-spoken suspicions.

“Just a little agreement we have,” Minako said casually.

“What would that be?” Luna said, whiskers twitching.

“Well – ”

“She’s doing me a favor!” Usagi finished, slightly flustered, blinking rapidly.

“Blackmail?” Rei smirked mischievously, eyes slanted.

A look like dawn brightened Makoto’s face. “Oooohhh. You’re trying to keep Minako-chan from – ”

“Waa-aaa-aa!!” came the stuttered and forced silencing of the two blondes.

“What?” Makoto looked around. “I was going to say that the other day Minako-chan and I were following – ”

“Hush!” cried Usagi.

At the same exact moment, Minako (who was closer) pounced on the tall brunette and slapped a hand to her mouth. “Never mind that,” she said, laughing nervously. She wiggled her eyebrows profusely at Makoto, who stuck out her tongue in an attempt to get her to drop her hand.

It worked.

“Keep quiet and you’ll get an in,” Minako muttered, wiping her slimy palm on her jeans.

Makoto pursed her lips and gave Minako an I-can’t-believe-you face. She crossed her arms but remained silent.

Ami, having grown tired of outlandish charades, tapped the ground with her foot and said, “Okay, everyone. This is an official senshi meeting. We can discuss personal matters later.”

“That’s right,” Luna agreed. She settled herself front and center so that each individual could easily see her. “There have been three incidents now concerning this strange senshi who claims to be Sailor Mercury.” Here she paused, out of respect for the abused Ami before, continuing. “Three might as well be a hundred. This proves to us that this is not going to go away; that the enemy is actively engaged in our area; and that we can look forward to another attack – and soon.”

“We’ll all need to be on our guard,” Artemis said. “That means communicators on and within reach,” he added pointedly.

Usagi pretended not to hear him.

“This is it, girls,” Luna said. “We’ve had quite a rest. The senshi are out of retirement. I know it’s the last thing we wanted, but it’s our responsibility.”

“And responsibilities come first,” said Artemis.

A swift quiet passed over; but whether it was the wind drowning out sound or a heavier silence was uncertain.

Unspoken in the air, like hollow fruit, were the words if only one had dared to pluck them: no one mentioned they’d never asked for these responsibilities.

A black-haired man with glasses tapped on the glass to let the woman inside know he was coming in before opening the door.

“Ito-san,” he greeted her, bowing politely. “How is your work going? I’ve received excellent feedback.”

She turned. Her waist-long golden hair glimmered as she moved. “I do have to say I’m on fire of late. Now if only you could find the perfect voice actress so that I can work with her.” She made an exaggerated sigh. “Then my performance will be at its peak! Character interaction is where I shine!”

“Yes, I’m sure,” the producer said, adjusting Ito’s microphone and motioning for her to follow him out of the sound room. “We’re holding auditions today, actually. We’re hoping to land the part by tomorrow.”

“Wonderful.” Ito smiled brilliantly. “I would like to be present for the auditions, Mr. Producer.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Ito-san. It might cause the actresses to get nervous . . . you being such a big name in the voice acting field.”

Ito smiled a close-toothed smile. “I insist.”

The director scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well, if it’s that important to you, I suppose an exception – ”

“Good,” Ito tossed her hand over her shoulder, leaving the black-haired man in her wake. “I’ll be in my dressing room until the next take. Oh, and tell them to bring me some bottled water. Not the local kind. I want Swedish glacier-water.”

The producer nodded at her retreating form, thick brow twitching.

Ito Keiko cruised down a hallway and through a door marked with a large star. It closed heavily behind her to reveal a dimly lit dressing room, stuffed with costumes, propaganda, photographs, flowers, and fan gifts of all sorts. It didn’t help that the recording studio was right across from Super Cherry’s collectibles store. They were always shoving their new products on her for promotional purposes.

Ito swept a stray plush animal from her dresser and sat down. She picked up a brush and started powdering her cheekbone when an intolerant voice alerted her to another’s presence.

“I’d be worried less about my looks and more about infiltrating the Cherry Productions studios if I were you.”

Ito twirled a strand of hair near the base of her neck. “I’m working on it, don’t worry.”

The owner of the voice was a well-dressed, stylish woman, with sky blue hair tied in a braid at the base of her neck. She had warm brown eyes, and a haughty chin.

She came forward and clacked her hand down onto the dresser impatiently. “Repeat back to me the instructions you were given.”

The voice actress sighed, greatly inconvenienced. “Distract the producer and the others while you sabotage the radio and television transmissions. What good will that do?”

Nami narrowed her eyes at the actress’s ignorance. “I’ve developed my own virus that will transmit a unique radio wave with every television and audio program aired from this studio. This studio provides for the entire district, and then some.

“The radio wave is pitched to react to a certain kind of energy. It will bring the pomegranate girl out of hiding, wherever she is right now.”

“How can you be so sure your little invention will summon the girl you’re looking for?”

Nami glared, “I’m not. But I have to start somewhere.” She strolled to the door and opened it slowly. Turned. “And I suggest you concentrate, if you wish to keep the voice-enhancing power that I’ve lent you.”

The door closed ominously behind her.

“Hurry up, hurry,” Minako said eagerly, stopping every few seconds to motion impatiently to the lagging Usagi.

“If you want me to go faster, why don’t you carry your stupid things?” Usagi pouted.

“Why? You’re doing great,” Minako beamed, eliciting no small glare from Usagi.

Minako started walking again, speaking to her as if she weren’t five strides behind and counting. “I heard that Ito Keiko has already landed the role of the well-seasoned shoujo lady! But they needed a young, fresh voice to play her co-star. Can you imagine? Working with Ito Keiko for my first gig? What a break!”

“Will there be snacks there?” Usagi asked, posture straightening a bit.

Minako nodded, though Usagi only managed to see the back of her head bobbing. “I’m sure they’ll have a spread of all sorts of goodies – rice balls, pepperoni, little sugar dumplings . . ..”

Her speech halted in a squeak as an all-too-eager Usagi steamed past her, knocking her in the hip with the huge bag saddled to her waist.

Zakuro stood in the entrance to Super Cherry, a gargantuan mutation of a store full to brimming with eccentricities of all shapes and colors – from kitchen sinks, to intimates, to stalker-relics from long-gone idols. She blinked derisively at the view of precocious shoppers, who ranged from obscenely-clad teenagers to middle-aged men still sporting acne.

Zakuro turned to comment to Cooan, only to find that the grown woman had immediately clamped onto a stuffed, over-sized raptor.

“It’s sooo cute!” she squealed.

Zakuro stepped back a little, as if to maintain balance. “If your idea of a house pet is Godzilla,” she muttered..

Beruche had graciously arranged for Cooan and Zakuro to have a girls’ outing, as she was landed at the last minute with shop-keeping duty by the debt-seeker Calaveras (the elder had loaned her a beloved pair of shoes and had insisted that Beruche should owe her when the time came).

“Oh my gosh!” Cooan let go her iron hold of the giant doll. “Look at these adorable shorts!” She bulldozed her way through a pile of stuffed animals to a clearance clothes rack, removing a pair of frilly daisy dukes. “These would look so cute with the blouse I bought from Megumi’s last weekend!” She lifted the shorts and waved them in Zakuro’s direction for emphasis. “Beruche sniffed at me, saying that I’d never find anything to go with it and that it made me look sleazy. But I know her game. She was just jealous they didn’t carry her size and didn’t want me to have it if she couldn’t!”

Zakuro tilted her head a little, observing. People here were craaazy.

Cooan continued to gurgle, masses of inky curls clouding about her, but something bright caught Zakuro’s eye. She moved forward slowly and put out her hand to meet soft fabric. It was a humanoid plushie, about the size of her torso, decked in blue and red, a pleated skirt, and silky bows, with felt-yellow hair and a cat-eyed mask.

“Sailor Moon . . .” she murmured.

“Sailor V!”

The obnoxious outburst nearly sent Zakuro flying from fright, but she moved aside, narrowly dodging a golden blur with odangos.

“Usagi-chan?”

“Sailor V! Sailor V! Look, Minako-chan, it’s on clearance!”

“I see that, Usagi-chan! Come on, we can shop on the way out. I have to make my voice acting audition.”

Zakuro tugged unceremoniously on the odangoed one’s sleeve.

“Hm?” Usagi looked down blinking, seemingly unfazed by the sudden appearance of her young friend.

“What is that?”

“It’s Sailor V, the champion of love and justice. Of course!” She put balled fists to her mouth and hopped a little.

Zakuro thought it made her look like a tea kettle about to whistle.

“Hey, Zakuro-chan. I didn’t know you were into this kind of fandom.”

Zakuro started to open her mouth to reply, then thought better of it and remained silent.

“Come on, Usagi! And bring my bag that you just dropped on the floor.”

“All right, all right.” Usagi turned to Zakuro, saying pleasantly. “I’m going to Minako’s voice audition. Would you like to come?”

Zakuro gestured hesitatingly in the direction where Cooan had been. “Well, I came with . . .” She stopped to find the area empty. Then she saw the woman in question in the opposite direction, flicking a sleeve of shiny bangles on her arm.

Zakuro sighed, pointing defeatedly. “Her,” she finished.

Usagi’s eyes bugged out, her posture straightened, toes stiffened, and she was taut like an arrow, waving franticly in Cooan’s direction.

Cooan saw her and dropped her glittering toys to come forward and greet her friend.

“Come with me and Minako to her audition,” Usagi proposed, before Cooan could offer so much as a how-do-you-do. “There’s going to be food there,” she added, as if this bit of information should seal the arrangement.

Cooan looked at Usagi uncertainly. “Mm, I don’t know. You see, I agreed to take Zakuro to Super Cherry, since she finished all of her homework. I mean, I don’t want to change plans on her.” Here, she looked kindly down on the girl.

Zakuro’s eyes widened a little, but she tried to control her features by looking casual. “Oh. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t? But you haven’t even gotten to look around . . ..”

“Let’s go with Minako-chan,” Zakuro smiled forcefully. “It’d be nice to give her our support.”

“Oh,” Cooan said, wide-eyed. But then she smiled in affirmation. “All right. Sounds fun.”

Minako (who had disappeared briefly to make sure Cherry Studios was in the same location since she entered two minutes ago) poked her head in at that moment between Zakuro and Usagi.

“What’s fun?”

“Going to the voice auditions with you, silly,” Usagi said, grabbing her friend’s arm and leading her toward the door before Minako could fully protest.

“So, why are you carrying Minako’s things for her?” Cooan said quietly into Usagi’s ear.

They were on the third floor of Cherry Studios, sitting on the stiff chairs of a small, crammed waiting room. There were only two windows, both in the further wall, and they let in trickling, flimsy light through their long, thin faces.

There was nothing edible to be found.

Whenever Usagi tired to mention this distasteful fact to Minako – now decked in full-on lolita costume, complete with corset, buckles, and knee-high leather boots – she shushed her roughly and returned her concentration to a small booklet, from which she recited nonsensical soliloquies.

So Cooan and Usagi took to talking between themselves.

“It’s a silly story,” Usagi said, laughing nervously. “I just agreed to help her, that’s all.”

“Nice of you,” Cooan said solemnly. “If one of my sisters asked me to carry her things for her, I’d probably laugh and tell her to get a butler.”

Usagi smiled, a little tightly, and folded her hands over Minako’s large knapsack.

A wedge of light brightened her knuckle.

It called to Zakuro, who was sitting between Usagi and Cooan. She put her fingers out tentatively to touch the source of light, and found it to be a ring – a pretty, pink, heart-shaped gem of no small size and quality.

“Oh, you like my ring?” Usagi gave her hand to Zakuro so she could get a better look.

“It’s beautiful,” Zakuro said quietly. She held the woman’s hand in her two open palms, cradling it like a baby sparrow; then looked intently into Usagi’s face. “Did someone give it to you?”

“Yes,” she replied; quietly, solemnly. “Someone very special.”

The gem’s iridescence seemed to catch in Zakuro’s eyes. They glowed brightly.

Cooan leaned forward, peering around the fair-headed child in interest. “Was it Chiba-san?”

Usagi nodded, a trickle of pride warming her features.

Zakuro’s eyes flickered from Usa’s face to Cooan’s and back again. “Who’s that?” she asked tersely.

“He’s my – well, he’s my fiancé.”

Zakuro sat back into her chair, instantly. An iron rod replaced her limber spinal cord.

The two women on either side of her cooed and murmured happily in feminine tones.

“Well, he hasn’t officially asked me to marry him,” Usagi confided. “He has to finish his studies overseas, you see.”

Zakuro felt a strange heat along the back of her neck, with an undercurrent of iciness made dreadfully uncomfortable. The thought of anyone other than an employee of Black Moon Jewelers’ giving Usagi a ring made her feel oddly jealous and betrayed. Had she been more amendable to the idea, she might have climbed over this initial reaction and tried to investigate its source and reasoning.

Instead, she decided she was angry and crossed her arms, determined not to speak – especially to Usagi – any more today.

Just then, the waiting room door announced its presence, opening loudly. A black-haired man with glasses held out a clipboard, studying it foggily. “Aino . . . Minako?” he asked, uncertain of his own voice.

Next to Usagi, Minako jumped. “Present!” she cried.

The man scratched his temple sheepishly. “Uh, Aino-san. You don’t have to say ‘present.’ Just come with me, please.”

Minako bowed sharply as her friends rose.

“And are we all Aino Minako?” the producer asked, eyebrow rising as the group approached.

“These are my friends,” Minako replied, smilingly. “They’ve come to see me audition and give me support with their warmth and love!”

The producer tapped his clipboard, blushing a little. Pretty girls always did him in. “Well, all right then.

“But keep to yourselves. This is not a field trip,” he added, eyeing Zakuro suspiciously.

Zakuro narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue at him, but the director was already through the door and down hallway.

The producer led the party into a small, posh sitting room, complete with eighteenth-century imitation furniture, plush rugs, a cigar box, and potpourri. There was also a pretty spread of delicacies on a dark cherry wood table against one wall.

Usagi eyed these hungrily.

“Help yourselves to some refreshments,” the director said. He settled himself into a silken couch next to two other figures – a woman and a man.

To the man, he gestured, introducing, “This is the director for our Vampire Twilight, Hamada-san. And this,” here he turned respectfully to the woman in question, “is as you probably know Ito Keiko, the voice actress cast for the character Scarlet, the vampire vixen who acts as mentor to the naive heroine.”

Ito tossed her golden hair behind her shoulders, flashing a white-toothed smile. “I must say, Aino-san. You really come dressed the part.”

Minako perched on the twin couch across from them. “I’m very eager about this role,” she beamed. “And let me just say it is an honor to meet you, Ito-sama,” she leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

Ito smiled automatically and replied, “Thank you, Aino-san. I look forward to hearing your audition, I’m sure.”

The producer made a throaty noise at that moment, sending everyone’s attention toward the two figures bustling noisily around the refreshments.

Usagi, mouth stuffed, was the first to sense the quiet, and swiveled around to meet the gawkers with an apologetic, close-lipped smile. Zakuro, however, was still fussing childishly over an éclair, which Usagi soon remedied with a swift yet harmless slap to the girl’s hand.

Zakuro started to glare evilly at her elder but soon became aware of the multitudes of eyes alighting on her.

“Um,” the producer smiled sardonically. “May I ask you two ladies to have a seat over here? We’d like to begin the audition now.”

Usagi and Zakuro half-walked, half-shoved their way over to the loveseat against the further wall and furrowed their way in next to Cooan.

“Now,” the director said, opening a script and smoothing out the page.

The three others mimicked his actions.

“Let’s have you read for the scene where Rose is confronting Scarlet about her new vampire nature. I want to hear your interaction with Ito, Aino-san.”

In the depths of the Cherry Studios recording center, the business-suited Nami strutted casually, flitting by security without eliciting so much as a glance from them.

She paused and leaned against the wall next to a door labeled “Channel 3F.” A bright sign was lit overhead, little green lights forming the anglicized words “On Air.”

Nami waited for a stroller to pass by in the hallway and turned the corner. She then opened the door and entered. The recoding room was small with bright blinking buttons and many audio apparatuses, conjuring black, electrical hydras. A balding man sat with his back to the entrance, headphones curving along his hairless scalp, sliding switches up and down on the control board.

Nami approached him casually and placed a single finger along the back of his neck, where his spine met his skull. A shuddering sound crackled and echoed, and the man tensed then locked up completely, as if his joints had been frozen solid.

After this, it took no effort for Nami to poke him sideways, and he fell helplessly and harmlessly to the floor. She seated herself in his chair. She produced a thin, square object from her pocket and opened this to reveal a blank, silver compact disk. She slipped her ring finger through the hole of the CD, lifted it and pressed a button with her forefinger, nimbly placing the CD in the open-mouthed slot in one swift movement, like an ocean tide.

The lights of the soundboard twinkled red and yellow. Nami flipped a few switches.

A deep and earthy pulse burst from the room. It ran tremulously through the entire building then was gone.

Minako stopped mid-sentence to clutch her chest where she felt a deep vibration. The others, it appeared, had also felt the sensation, for everyone drew still and quiet, holding their sternums as if slightly out of breath.

Only Ito-san remained unshaken, flicking the pages of her script impatiently and smiling wanly at Minako. “Go on . . .? You left off at ‘for my own good,’ Aino-san.”

“Uh, yes, thank you.” Minako lowered her eyes to her script but found it hard to plunge back into character. Her nerves were blaring warningly. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at her friends.

Usagi, too, seemed uneasy, looking about her like a cat that’d just been shaken and dropped on her feet again.

Cooan rubbed her temples slowly.

And Zakuro –

Minako’s spine stiffened.

Zakuro sat nestled between Usagi and Cooan in the tight loveseat, head dropping. She was making little struggling attempts to lift her skull on her neck, which appeared to have increased dramatically in weight so that it took a great deal of effort. In the split-second between Zakuro’s effort and subsequent failure to keep her head up, Minako caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were eerie and glazed, as if covered by translucent sheets of wax. Almost sickly.

“Aino-san?” Ito was polite but no longer smiling.

“I . . . h-have to use the bathroom,” she stuttered.

“Right now?”

“Yes!”

Ito looked to the producer and director for help but they were docile as animals, hazy-eyed and sleepy.

Minako stood sharply, script flapping to the floor. “Usagi-chan, Cooan-chan, bring Zakuro and please come with me!”

Ito glared.

“But I don’t need to,” Usagi managed to protest before the electrified Minako pinched the back of her elbow – so hotly that Usagi went pale, too shocked to cry out. Minako clasped Usagi and Zakuro to her with either arm, and Cooan followed behind, trying not to be the last out of the sitting room, and failing.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Minako scooped up Zakuro, held Usagi’s arm and started to run.

“What’s – going – on?” Usagi huffed, out of breath but gaining composure.

Minako made a sharp right turn and shoved through a heavy door that lead into a stairwell. She pushed Zakuro into Cooan’s arms and said abruptly, “Take her home.”

Cooan nodded. She dashed away almost immediately.

Minako put her hands on Usagi’s shoulders; she looked her directly in the eyes.

“Call the Sailor Senshi.”

Nami leaned back in her swivel chair and enjoyed the view. The play list for the next half an hour was already implemented, only now there was an extra vibration sifting through the music, reaching the ears of all those listening and most everyone within the vicinity of the Tokyo district.

The door opened and Nami turned.

It was Ito-san, glaring darkly.

“What are you doing here?” she fumed. “You’re supposed to be keeping a lookout.”

“Your mission is interfering with my auditions.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Nami spat. “Now get back in there and make sure that no one comes or goes.”

Ito’s mouth went slack, and she was contemplating whether or not to tell her mistress about the affected child. But she clamped her jaw shut, turned abruptly, and slammed the door to the recording room

“It’s her, all right.”

Ito started. Before her were two smallish women, eerily adorned, but beautiful all the same. Their features were so familiar. Yet before she had time to register this recognition, the smaller of the two pointed threateningly at her.

“Just what’s going on here? We know that you’re up to something foul, Ito Keiko. We can sense it.”

“I can sense it,” the taller added aside.

“Venus can sense it!” the short one corrected.

Ito looked bewildered. Then her brows furrowed into a snarl. “Who the hell are you? Do you know who I am?”

The short blond blinked. “Yeees. I just said your name, didn’t I?” She looked at her companion for confirmation. “Didn’t I?”

Venus shook off the question and stepped toward Ito. “She’s in there, isn’t she?”

“Who?”

“That woman.”

Ito said nothing. But when Venus made to walk around her to the door, she pushed with an animal force, flinging the unsuspecting warrior against the further wall.

Sailor Moon tensed. “You don’t want to go against us,” she said, almost pleadingly.

“Oh, I think that it is you who do not wish to go against me,” Ito hissed.

“Back down!” shouted the orange-clad Venus, now firmly on guard.

“Not likely!”

Ito’s gorgeous strands began to levitate about her body in an sickly blue glow. Her mouth widened and curved upwards around as-of-yet unrevealed fangs. Her eyes seemed to sink deep into her skull. Her lovely curves shriveled against her bones revealing taut and harsh muscle strands beneath once-soft skin.

“And I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that,” she added, voice barely recognizable.

She growled then and flew at Venus, who caught her outstretched claw nimbly in her hands and used the momentum of her misshaped form to fling her a yard down the corridor. “This one’s weak. Finish her off, Sailor Moon,” Venus said flinging her love-me-chain around the evil idol’s torso.

The creature tried to rise, but Venus swept her chain backward, glowing iridescently, and the thing that had been Ito crashed back-down onto the floor.

The evil idol screeched then. It was no human sound, or even animal. It was sheer noise, inanimate, primordial, and awful. Her shriek reverberated around the building, shaking the entirety of Cherry Studios to its foundations.

Venus dropped her hold to clamp her palms, vice-like, against her ears. Sailor Moon did likewise.

“Agh! She’s going to bring down the whole building!” Venus tossed her head in agony.

“Not if I can help it!”

Sailor Mars pummeled the shrieking creature with a Burning Mandala. The attack silenced its cries into a muffled moan.

Sailor Jupiter added to this a repertoire of electric jolts, shocking the creature before it had any time to recover.

The visor around Sailor Mercury’s eyes was just sliding closed. “Aim for her throat,” she instructed, calmly yet firmly. “That’s where her insignia is located and the source of her power.”

Sailor Moon, who had already called her Tiare forth from the mists, swung it high over her head in deep concentration. “Starlight Honeymoon Therapy Kiss!”

The healing energy pulsed toward the evil idol. She stumbled upward in a last attempt to fight, meeting the light head-on. But the brightness enveloped her and her voice came out once more, this time a dying and translucent thing.

The idol monster slumped on her knees, head tilting backward to reveal a glowing blue insignia on her throat. The sign of Mercury burned then faded away, dropping the defeated Ito Keiko lifelessly on the ground with its departure.

“Something’s still wrong,” Sailor Mars said quietly, disturbing the after-battle lull. She put her fingers to her head and shut her eyes tightly.

“That would be my radio waves you’re sensing.”

The senshi started. In the gaping doorway of the recording room, the self-proclaimed Sailor Mercury scowled, arms crossed, eyes daggers.

“Just what’s your game?” Sailor Venus queried.

“No game,” Nami said.

“Undo it. Now.” Sailor Mercury was livid; but the emotion only manifested itself in a slight dark leaking from her eyes.

Nami moved slowly then, though her actions were clear.

She took a fighting stance. Her arms at right angles shielded her body; her legs shifted and widened for balance.

No one spoke.

The others, as if on cue, fell silently into battle positions and waited.

“Shine Aqua Illusion!”

The attack cry shattered the brooding silence, followed directly by a blast of rushing water.

This Nami countered with a cry and a blast of her own: “Mercury Spiral Fountain!”

A twisting length of liquid propelled from her open palms, splattering into Sailor Mercury’s own water, and sending a shimmering spray of harmless drops sprinkling the empty corridor.

Nami lowered her head, but her eyes stayed fixed on her opponent, lending a slight mania to her steady glare.

Lowly. Dangerously. “Don’t. Interfere.”

Mercury’s breath sucked in swiftly.

The others briefly paused, taking in this new development.

But it did not last long, as an enraged and steaming Sailor Jupiter sent a blast of thundering energy into the floor.

Nami shifted to counter this attack when a hot beam penetrated her flank. She stumbled back painfully from Venus’s strike before experiencing the awesome, teeth-shattering jolt of Oak Evolution.

Nami nearly fell but caught herself, balancing dangerously on her heeled feet. The wind knocked out of her, she sat half-standing, half-crouching, suspended for thirty seconds.

She closed her eyes, as if centering herself. Then rised slowly, carefully, arms stretched for balance.

“I can see that I’m outnumbered here. I think this mission is for another day.”

She pulled a long trickle of water out of her fingertips, from her waist to well above her head. The trickle spread wide and became a trembling sheet that presently circled and enveloped her, swallowing her in its depths.

It left rather breathless team of senshi beyond its shimmering remains.

Zakuro flinched, legs and arms jolting. She thought she was falling, with no solid object around her.

Then her senses returned and she could feel the softness of Beruche’s bed.

Her limbs were very heavy.

Placing a small palm to her eye and rubbing steadily, she tried to recall what had happened.

She was with Minako and the others when a blackness seeped into her, like a dulling anesthesia. She recalled that she had dreamed of the time before she came to Tokyo, to the Black Moon Clan, but of what particularly she could not now summon from memory.

A low, inanimate moan wavered from the door, followed by a soft click as it closed again.

A tall shadowed figure came to her bedside. As Zakuro’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw Demando’s bright eyes in the gloom. He sat slowly on the edge of the bed and looked at her steadily without speaking.

Then he said softly, like a breath of air. “How are you feeling?”

Zakuro fidgeted under the thick comforter. She shifted on her side and tucked her right arm beneath her head for support. She said nothing but simply looked at him.

He nodded vaguely then, and Zakuro understood him to be respecting her wish to keep her own counsel.

He shifted as if to stand, but Zakuro stopped him with a touch to his shirt sleeve.

“Demando-sama?”

He faced her again.

“Who is Sailor Moon?”

The man made no visible change, but the air around him seemed to cool and solidify.

“Sailor Moon is . . . our protector.”

Zakuro gazed into his face, testing for honesty in the way only a child can do.

She settled, satisfied. Her eyelashes fluttered sleepily.

“I thought so,” she murmured.

Her mind drifted into pillowy darkness. But she thought she heard Usagi’s name whispered, in Demando’s hushed, earthy voice.

Usagi sat on her bed in the waning light facing Luna and speaking in muted tones.

“The auditions were called off, due to Ito-san’s sudden illness,” Usagi said. “Ami-chan removed the compact disk from the radio transmitter and destroyed it. It was strange – so unlike her, Luna. She didn’t even stop to examine it. She just crushed it beneath her heel vehemently, without a word.

“No one said anything.”

Luna took this in, cat-eyes glinting in the dimness. “I’ll bet she’s very confused, and very angry. We need to take special care of her, Usagi-chan. Now is when she needs us the most.”

Usagi fell back onto her bed, streamers of hair curling around her pillows in ribbons. “I worry about her, you know. She’s not like the others. Minako can cheer it away. Rei will burn her troubles to pieces. Makoto just gets angry. But Ami . . . what has Ami to release her sorrow?”

Luna approached and put a paw on Usagi’s chest. She felt her charge’s lungs rise in a deep swell.

Usagi’s arm came around and swept the little cat up and onto her body. Luna, at first surprised, made no objection, verbal or otherwise. She curled against her, purring consolingly.

Nami sank against the warm surface of the fountain wall, head hanging heavily.

Ai knelt next to her, touching the blue-haired woman’s shoulder in reassurance. “Rest for now, Nami-chan.”

Nami’s eyes flickered upward. A mist gathered and sunk in her lids, thickening, and trickled down her cheeks in pearly tears.

“I failed her. I don’t know why – I keep failing the Lady.”

“It was difficult,” Ai said. “There were too many of them.”

“Please don’t discharge me!” Nami’s body tightened rapidly, and she clamped onto the smaller woman’s in desperation. “Please, let me try again.”

Ai nodded. “All right. But rest. And think. Perhaps your trouble is you’ve been thinking too much with your intellect and not your instinct.” Here she poked Nami’s forehead and giggled softly, girlishly.

Nami gathered her tears delicately with the back of her finger, she smiled a little – the first real smile she had yet given.

The spring sun finally chased the cold away, and the college friends were meeting in the park for a picnic, officiated by Makoto.

Rei shook out a blanket and let it drift onto the soft grass, but Usagi nose-dived into it before she had a chance to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Makoto, did you bring lemonade?” Usagi hoped, laying belly-down on the blanket and supporting her face in her open palms.

“I brewed fresh tea, for Zakuro.” Makoto winked at the pale girl, whose shadowed grin crept out, despite herself.

“Usagi, get off,” Rei shoved unceremoniously but to no avail.

As if to sabotage Rei’s effort, Ami perched delicately on a corner and set down her woven basket. “I made some cookies, too,” she said pleasantly.

“Oh, Ami-chan, I looove you!” Usagi gushed, springing at the short-haired woman and throwing her arms around her.

This Ami suffered with great dignity. “You’re welcome, Usagi-chan.”

“Wah, don’t eat without me!” Minako, flushed and glowing, stood in a peach-colored sundress that highlighted the warm undertones in her cheeks, neck, and shoulders.

“Hey, Mina-chan; glad you could make it.” An uncharacteristically affectionate Artemis weaved around her ankles.

Minako laughed.

“Break out the sushi!” Usagi cried eagerly.

“Seconded!” Luna said. She then twitched her whiskers in embarrassment. “What? It’s my favorite.” She then occupied herself with her tail in an attempt to regain her dignity.

“So,” Makoto sat. She opened her basket full of gourmet delights, removing the packages one by one and placing them into Usagi’s eager hands. “What is the news on the Vampire Twilight project, Minako?”

Minako spread her skirt out primly and folded her hands in her lap. Her face was straight and schooled. “Well,” she drew out, “Ito-san made a full recovery. Doesn’t remember anything of the past few days. They believe she was over-working.

“As for the uncanny trembling, somebody official passed it off as an earthquake, which is just possible enough to explain the strange after-affect of everyone’s disorientation.”

“I see.”

“And,” Minako stretched her arms, looking nonchalant. “They offered me Ito’s part as the vampire Scarlet for the pre-season release videos.”

A succession of gasps flew up around her.

“No way!”

“They didn’t!”

“Minako-chan, that’s great!”

“And – ” Minako held up her hand to silence them. “I turned it down.”

The tide of enthusiasm jerked backward into a foggy cloud of disappointed sighs and deflated exclamations.

“But why did you do that?” Usagi asked, wide-eyed. “You want to be a famous idol so badly.”

Minako shrugged. “I have more important responsibilities that come before being an idol.” Her eyes met Artemis’s meaningfully.

Zakuro looked around as everyone’s faces settled into an understanding. She stored this reaction away in her curious mind to be examined later.

“And besides,” Minako’s face broke out into a grin, sunshine after a cloudy day, “I don’t get the part I originally tried out for, but they did offer me a minor role, and I accepted it!”

“Oh, wow!” The group broke out into stunned applause.

“It’s much less daunting; the pay is good. It gets me a foot into the business and is very flexible, which is just what I need!” She popped a still-cold grape into her mouth and chewed happily.

“Yay! My friend’s an idol,” Usagi said, reaching out for another package proffered by Makoto.

When the expected parcel never made contact with her, Usagi looked around in bewilderment. “Now – where?”

But Zakuro, the quick-witted, had intercepted the hand off, and was making quite a noisy meal of Makoto’s fresh cream puffs.