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Grass sways from left to right by harsh waves of wind. A flurry of snowflakes joins the dance, rising high into the air and down the steep slope of a hill, only to collide with a bumbling girl who dares to race up in the opposite direction.
She swats them away and directly into the face of a cat—a sleek, white Japanese bobtail running beside her, barely matching her pace with a weak, half-hearted sprint.
Skidding to a stop, he shakes his fur free of debris, his eyes narrowing as the girl, still huffing from the effort of her climb, turns to him.
“Are you…?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he mutters, brushing a snowflake from his ear with a huff. “But you might want to slow down. You’re not exactly—”
Before he can finish, the girl, now with a sly, twinkle-toothed grin, speeds away, giggling at his weak protests for her to come back. This marks the third time she’s run off before he’s finished his sentence. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”
She doesn’t even glance back.
“Dammit, Himei…”
One foot forward, then another, belining it up the hill with a rush of energy; the top reveals itself, and it's there, in that meadow of white, that she finds him. Magnificent Kamen, her mentor, standing with his back turned away, having patiently awaited her arrival.
“I made it!” She squeals with approaching giddy hops all while hiding labored breaths. “Are you surprised at how fast I was? I ran really fast, you know? Not even Dusty could keep up.”
“It’s quite a surprise. However, you should conserve that energy." The Kamen, all about dramatics, pivots his body to face her. “Today marks the first and most crucial lesson of your training. All future lessons that follow will be built on today. Do you understand?”
Stunned to silence by the Kamen’s serious tone, she nods half-mindedly, tightening her gaze to give the impression of undivided attention. He seems pleased by this and continues.
“Your necklace. The one bestowed with Sailor power by your magical guardian animal, you have it, don't you?”
She unzips her pink jacket, the chill breeze offset by the warmth of the now glowing pendant. Holding it makes her smile. Imaginings of super-powered beatdowns, jumping rooftop to rooftop, and gushing over the latest cute boy all come to mind, and she wonders if the pendant is infusing her with positive energy.
Deep in thought, she barely listens as The Kamen explains, “Under normal circumstances, objects imbued with magical power appear normal. The difference lies with you. Within the presence of a Sailor, its power will ebb and flow like you see now.”
“Wow…”
“Yes, well, I suppose there’s nothing more to do than transform. I take it you’re ready?”
“Yes, yes, a hundred times yes!” Twirling for added emphasis, her waist-length pigtails flowing behind like a cape and her finger rocketing to the air, she shouts, “Pretty Magical Soldier: Super Wand Himei is going to punch evildoers!”
This is all to say; she’s ready.
“I could hardly sleep, you know!”
“That’s the problem!” Dusty exclaims, having now reached the top. His small body withers with each approaching step, strained pants worsening until he’s holding Himei’s shoe for support. “You barely got... a wink... of sleep! How can you... even run up a hill like this?!”
“I’m super duper strong, so I’m never sleepy! You’re strong like me, so you aren’t sleepy either!” She states this like a fact, despite her pet collapsing to the ground as the sentence finishes. “Hey! I said you aren’t sleepy!”
“Ignore him for now. Boundless energy, something you’ve demonstrated often, is a sign of resilience.”
Although she doesn’t know what resilience means, like everything he says, it sounds important. If it’s tied to her, it must mean she’s important too, right? If she was smiling before, she’s practically beaming now.
With an expected suave tone and a hint of bite, he gives the instruction, “Transform with the magical words: Pretty Sailor Power, transformation.” It doesn’t feel like an instruction as much as it does a command; still, Himei has no reason to object.
The pendant glows brighter as she tightens her grip, light shining through her gloved fingers and warming her red face.
“Pretty Sailor Power, transformation!”
Blinded by the ever-growing light, it takes to blanketing her like a veil of joy. At its height, the emotions are overpowering, with all negativity dissolving in an instant.
When Himei opens her eyes, the feelings turn fleeting, but the residual effects remain, surrounding her like a paper-thin aura. It’s this aura that keeps her warm. More than any coat ever could, and as she drops her gaze, anything she was to say reduces itself to squeals, celebration, and laughter.
Fitted in a pink and blue Sailor outfit, complete with matching gloves and boots to boot, the ensemble was perfect. The addition of the ivory necklace on her chest was just brownie points.
“Oh, oh, oh! Wow, Dusty! Dusty, look, look!”
He would clap, though he’s already snoozing. This doesn’t bother Himei, however, who's more transfixed in watching her skirt dance with the wind.
“No longer are you just Shoutan Himei,” the Kamen says, prematurely ceasing her celebration. “You are something far greater. Having awakened to your destiny, you are now Sailor Salvation, protector of the innocent.”
“Protector…?” She whispers, eyeing her fuku again, this time with a more serious look. She recalls what Dusty said the day before, particularly what the meaning of her name meant.
By his definition, Salvation meant to save something; to protect someone. So when she wore this outfit, she was both a Savior and protector. That was her destiny, right? The Kamen had said as much; they had met under a star of destiny, but—
“What does destiny mean…?” She asks, half-aloud, “And what does it mean to have a destiny to be a protector?”
“Destiny means you were born into this world for an important reason. For you, Himei, you were destined to be a protector, to bring salvation to the innocent. In other words, your destiny is something only you can do.”
“Only me?” She questions again. “But, why? Why only me? No one has ever told me to save people or do kind things like that. Everybody wants me to be me. But being just me isn’t being a hero.”
“By design, all people, family and friends included, lack knowledge of your destiny. This fight of Yamiko versus Sailor, dark versus light, is kept hidden. If it weren’t, many could be driven to madness.
“It's no fault of their own, of course. However, there are a chosen few who know the truth. I am one of them. I have given Dusty, your guardian animal, this knowledge, as I have with you. This is your destiny, and as the stars above have written, you have become what you were born to be.”
His words are raw, deep, and powerful, and she’s really believing it.
“We’re all brought into this world for a purpose. For most, it is nothing more than the pursuit of happiness. But for a select few, it is dastardly, aiming to rob people of this happiness.” He laments before his showmanistic manner of speech rises. "But for others, such as you and me, our purpose is far greater.”
“And what’s that…?”
“We protect those whose dreams have been stolen by wickedness. We fight for love and justice. We live in the dark, so others may live in the light. This is our purpose and our destiny.”
Important.
Salvation.
Protector.
All her life, she treated things as they were.
Magical Girls were fictional. That is what she believed. Worlds in which guardians of love and justice wore smiles that sparkled like stars and fought the dark to keep the light were not real.
What was real was that Himei was a normal little girl who could blend into a crowd of a million. That had been her truth for so long, and though she wished to believe otherwise, eventually, those hopes faded away.
But not anymore.
She is a Magical Girl.
One who fights for love and justice.
One with a smile that sparkles like stars.
One that guides people to the light.
She can be a hero, and all it took was agreeing to put her life in Magnificent Kamen’s hands. Before she knows it, tears escape her, flowing down her rosy cheeks and soaking into the grass below.
“You mustn’t cry, now.” He stands straight in hopes of demonstrating a more proper and respectable stance for a guardian of justice. “A Sailor is to be courageous at all times, valiant in the face of cruelty, and above all else, a sign of resilience for the less fortunate.”
There it was again, that word.
Resilient.
Himei brushes away tears, more than she ever has in her eleven years on this earth, and a smile comes to her. These aren’t tears of sadness; no, they’re tears of joy.
“Okay,” she sniffs. “I’ll try and be more like that, now.”
“Good. Now, it’s time I teach you how to create a specialized magical attack. These will be immensely valuable, as they're your only means of attack besides physical combat, which should be avoided. Attacking like that, save for gaining distance, incapacitating, or disarming, is heavily frowned upon. You must keep your emotions in check. Now, listen closely.“
She listens with all her heart.
The dining room is still.
A family of three sits at opposite ends of a table, each focused on something different, be it their plate, an overdue business letter, or a mindless daydream. The only sounds present are clinks of metal against porcelain, crinkling of paper, and the muffled audio of a television from another room. It's of a feminine voice. They speak of love and justice, screaming out the name of their special attack, followed by a loud, monstrous roar of pain.
Himei spoons a chunk of curry into her mouth, savoring the taste with a gentle smile. This is her third bowl, and while she’s usually full about now, today she’s worked up an appetite. Racing up and down hills, punching at thin air, and kicking pillows all day tends to do that, and while she is tired, training’s never done.
She reaches for another bite while listening to the dialogue through the thin walls, intent on memorizing every word.
“Thank you, Sailor Rose Wand! The world couldn’t have been saved without you!”
“Please don’t thank me. Thank yourself for having such a kind heart and never submitting to the dark arts of that monster. As long as you keep yourself pure of heart, you’ll be as much of a hero as I am.”
The voices fade as music overpowers the scene, and she’s sure the credits are playing. What will her credit music sound like, given she’s a magical girl now? Will someone make a show about her?
The Kamen says she has to keep this a secret, but what if someone inadvertently finds out? She needs a catchphrase, she concludes, something that conveys her character, empowers the people, and scares the monsters away. After all, if someone were to see her after a battle, they might stick a camera in her face and ask a load of questions, which would be a great chance to say something awesome.
She looks up at her parents, asking, “If you were a superhero, what would be a really cool catchphrase? Something you’d say all the time?”
Her mother doesn’t look up from her paper. “Catchphrases,” she states flatly, scratching something out with her pen so feverishly it makes Himei scared to even ask. “Maybe when I was your age I might’ve spent a little time thinking about it. But now?”
She shifts attention to her husband, who, dressed in a rumpled shirt and perpetual stubble on his chin—as if he had just rolled out of bed—seems less concerned with the conversation and more with the swirling thoughts in his head.
Only when she elbows him does he come to, blinking at Himei with a spoon still in his mouth. His eyes dart back and forth between his wife and daughter, trying to catch up, but his wife’s silence, paired with her narrowed glare, provides no hints.
“Uh, you know,” he starts, scratching his head. “Whatever your mother said is probably the right answer. If not... Well, you’re smart, aren’t you? I’m sure you can figure something out.”
“You don’t even know what she’s asking, do you?”
He locks still like a deer in headlights, pulling the spoon out of his mouth and leaning forward. “What? No! Of course I do! I mean, uh, can’t you see I have a lot on my mind? The toy shop where I bought my last set of collector military figurines from? The guy I bought them from...? He’s... “
“Still missing?” She finishes with growing frustration. “I told you a thousand times that man was shady, but did you listen to me? No, and I bet he’s gone off with the money.”
“Hey,” he says, his defensive tone wearing thin, “you don’t get it! The owner was an upstanding guy! He wouldn’t do something like that! It’s like… He must’ve been kidnapped or gone missing!”
“Oh, cool it with your theories, already! I told you, they’re overpriced plastic! From the beginning, I told you. Now look what happened!”
“I know. I know you told me. I get it. But it’s...” He trails off, looking over at Himei with a resigned expression. “It’s not like you would care about this kind of thing anyway.”
Himei meets his eyes briefly but looks away just as fast.
Her mother lets out a long, defeated sigh, “You’re right. I don’t get it. I think it’s a waste of money, and guess what? It was. Maybe you'll finally stop spending so much on those plastic toys now, and listen to me.”
Himei’s gaze drops to her plate, spoon still in her hand, but her appetite is all but gone. Her mother and father’s voices, faint but familiar, blend as they bicker nonsense. The monotonous subject matter, the blank tone of voice, all of it is nothing new.
Her father would mention something about his collection or his job or any number of things, and her mother would sigh in tow; make a jab at his expense, then they’d ramble on and on.
“It’s for school.” She lies, her voice a tad softer now, quieter. “It’s a school assignment; I have to write a catchphrase, but I don’t know what to say.”
Her father blinks at the interruption, surprised to be pulled back into the topic. “Hm? You can ask someone at school, can’t you? A classmate, or a friend?”
She doesn’t outright react to that statement, instead catching the subtle furrow of her mother's brow, followed by a sneer directed at her husband, who quickly apologizes.
There’s a looming trace of disappointment on her face, though it’s brushed aside by a shake of the head. “You can always ask a teacher, Himei.”
“I did, but I didn’t get any ideas.”
Rubbing her forehead, she mumbles, “Like your father said. You’ll figure it out.”
Her father nods, not bothering to audibly agree, let alone add anything else, and it isn’t long until her mother joins, and the room falls back into silence.
“I’m going to my room.”
With a final bite, Himei pushes her plate away, the ceramic clattering as it moves about. The ruckus is done deliberately, an childish gesture of defiance that goes ignored by both parents.
Now, at the staircase, it’s when she has a foot on the step that her mother makes a final request. “Lower the volume when you’re up there, all right? It’s a bit too loud, especially with how sensitive your father's ears can be.”
She agrees but doesn’t look back as she slips into her room. Closing the door behind her, she leans against it, eyes half-closes, and her shoulders slumped.
Dusty, sitting on a futon in the middle, shifts his focus from a commercial break to her, his expression darkening. “Hey! You didn’t get me a bowl! I’m never going to understand what the fuss about curry is if you never save me a bite.”
She doesn’t offer a retort. Instead, she shuffles to her desk with slow movements, picking up her notebook and opening it after sitting down. “Sorry,” she whispers with the same monotone her mother used moments ago. “I think I forgot again.”
With the atmosphere in a drastic change for the worse, he makes his way to the corner of the bed, tilting his head to better inspect her. The issue is, he already knew, “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
She doesn’t look at him, instead flipping through the pages of the notebook. “They hardly even look at me,” she pouts, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just want a cool superhero catchphrase. But nobody wants to give me ideas.”
“I could hear a bit of the conversation from up here. You know they’re overworked, don’t you? They’re tired; give them some time tomorrow, and I’m sure—”
“They just don’t care.” She whispers with a pained chuckle. “Again.”
“Himei, come on, you know that’s not true.”
“They never want to help me. They want to be mean, like always. It's never about me; it’s about work, figurines, or something else.”
Only when Dusty jumps onto the desk and places a reassuring paw on her arm does she look at him. “I hate it. They never want me to have fun; they want me to be quiet.”
“If true, your dad wouldn’t keep giving you such large allowances to support your hobbies. And they would never let you go to the park, movie theater, arcade, or any other place alone.”
“No! They like the quietness!” She barks, hands clenching on the book. Her aggression scares the hopeful smile right off his face. “When I leave, it’s quiet! They give me money so that I leave!”
Dusty has only been able to talk, think, and act like a human for a few days by now. Before then, he didn’t have a consciousness capable of understanding anything besides eating, playing, and sleeping.
He’s had a lot to learn and even more to assume. See, ever since awakening to consciousness, Dusty has assumed Himei was a regular kid.
A childish, fun-loving kid who would be overjoyed to receive hardy allowances and have the opportunity to let loose in theaters, arcades, and other entertainment facilities.
But no. Not Himei.
“I bet it’s why they got this TV for me! Just so... I can stay in my room all day, watching stuff and not bothering them. All because they don’t want to listen to me.”
“Himei…”
“If they want to ignore me, fine! But it’s my TV! It’s mine! I like it loud, so it’s loud! I don’t care if they want me to be quiet! They want everything to be quiet.” She whimpers, her lips trembling. “When Daddy watches TV downstairs, it's loud! Why can't I do the same?!”
She exhales sharply, hunching over with a scrunched face. “They’re always asking for things. Always busy, always overwhelmed, but they still ask and force… They want me to listen! But I can’t remember the last time they listened...”
He sits straighter, hoping to appear more confident in his response. “Well, they love you, you know. They’re... again, they’re overworked, Himei. Being an adult is tough, and they have a lot of responsibilities. The same way you do, now.”
Himei shuts her eyes, shaking her head. “But why? Why can’t they just... I’m just... I want to be a hero. A really, really good hero. I want to train, have a cool catchphrase, and beat up bad guys... But, how?”
He tilts his head again, another smile forming. “Part of being a Sailor is figuring things out. I think you’re forgetting I’m confused too, which is pretty bad since, oh, I don’t know... I’m only supposed to be your guardian animal, you know!”
“You're... the same way I am?”
“Pretty much,” he chuckles, playfully pawing at Himei’s arm. “I think a part of being a Sailor, and a guardian animal is learning. I can be given all the knowledge in the world, but until I get a chance to use it and figure out all the details, the knowledge is practically useless! See, it’s all about working through that confusion. It’ll always start like this, but the longer you’re at it, the easier it gets.”
Himei’s eyes widen as she takes in his words. What had felt like a roadblock all this time, maybe in truth, was a stepping stone towards her eventual success. Her bright, confident demeanor returns, her smile rivaling his.
“Again, don’t ask how I know any of this, but I do,” he reaffirms. “And you want to know something else I know? You’ll be a great hero, Himei,“ his smile curves into a grin, “Or, should I say: Sailor Salvation.”
She blushes, and her pendant, hidden beneath her shirt, glows bright enough to be seen through it. On cue, it imbues her with a soft kiss of joy, amplifying her reddened face.
Dusty can’t help but add, “I think you know it too.”
“Hehehe~! Yes!” Leaping off her chair to strike a pose, Dusty is flung to the ground. With a finger in the sky and hand on her hip, she screams, “I will triumph over evildoers and save the day, because... because... an upside-down smile is, eh, not good! I don’t like frowns! I fight to keep everyone smiling! And, for…?” Stalling for words to finish the sentence, she does a little spin and declares, “I am the Pretty Magical Soldier: Sailor Salvation, and I will save the day!”
Meanwhile, Dusty, now face-planted in the ground, raises a paw in the air; his voice muffled a fair bit. “Ouch…”
“O-Oh, I’m so sorry, are you?“
“I’m fine…” He groans, raising his face off the ground. “Before you start saving the day, I think you should keep working on your speeches.”
“Not even! Soon, I’ll be so strong that everybody I fight will be knocked out super fast. They won’t even be awake long enough to hear my speech!”
With that bold declaration, she turns the volume up as the commercial break ends and the next episode of Sailor Rose Wand begins. Clutching a fist before her, she sings the theme song by heart, “She fights for her Eternal Garden~! She fights for her destiny~! She fights for all humanity! She is a powered Sailor Scout; with her powered Sailor mount, she can fight; she never quits! She is a princess, Sailor Rose Waaaaaand!”
The next hour is filled with comically drawn-out punches in the air, a few kicks that make her nearly fall over, and an attempt at a common heroic speech before battle.
Dusty watches all the while, amused by her boundless enthusiasm, suspecting it to be what the Kamen had praised her for. He hopes, as he sees her fall to the ground a few times, the training will be enough.
She's Sailor Salvation. This is her destiny. She’ll be okay, won’t she?
He refuses to answer that question.
…
Her room is silent.
…
Total silence.
…
A chill passes the unconscious girl.
…
Her hair stands on end.
…
An invisible force tugs at her.
…
Her eyes open.
…
“…Aaah—!”
Himei springs upright, knocking aside a fort of plushies that had been covering her like a blanket hours earlier. Clutching her head, there’s rising pressure, driving all five senses to a knifepoint edge.
She’s scrambling out of bed, tripping over plushies, and crashing to the floor. It’s worse than any headache she’s had before. It hurts. It hurts, bad.
“Himei,” a familiar voice says, breaking through the gnawing cacophony of heightened senses. She knows who it is, yet she can hardly think; the pain is too great. “Himei, it’s an enemy. They’re here now. You can feel it, can’t you?”
“Wh—What’s happening?!” Pushing her head from the ground, she sees Dusty standing before her. “It hurts… It hurts, it hurts—“ She winces, forcing her lips close to prevent crying out.
He runs a paw across her cheeks, wiping away some escaped tears. “It’s okay; it’s like that when you first start, I think. You’ll get used to the feeling.”
“Th-The feeling…?”
“Of a newly birthed Yamiko.” He explains, “They’re the same enemy that attacked you at the playground, remember? Sailors can sense when they appear. You’re still sensitive to it, so...”
She nods, less out of understanding, and more so he’ll stop talking. She’s sluggish and sensitive. Even his breath against her face stings, and it’s that very sting that makes her rise to her feet. She takes out the ivory pendant from under her yellow pajama top, her head still held tight.
“What do I do...? I don’t… I don’t know what to do!”
“You have to fight them. Or else, I’m not sure this pain is going to stop.”
He says this with such certainty that it startles the girl.
The pendant, now intensely bright, casts an imaginary spotlight on her, demanding action. And while her heart continues to beat, an audience of plushies watches on, and Dusty calls her to the stage; she’s afflicted with stage fright.
It’s curious that when she hears the distant sound of a cane against pavement from outside, she moves without thinking. From her window, with blinds pushed aside, she can see him.
Magnificent Kamen…
He stands firm, peering at her through the frost-covered glass with a mute stare, and she looks back in awe, forcing the window open.
“Sailor Salvation,” he announces after a step forward, “I assume Dusty has already explained the meaning behind your new sixth sense, correct?”
“Y-Yes…”
“Then you must know there isn’t time to waste; let us go.” He holds out his arms for her. “Jump, and I will catch you.”
A harsh breeze draws through the window, casting shivers down her spine. If she wishes to leave, she must jump into his arms. But the fall, while only a hop for an adult, is a plunge towards certain death for a child.
Her palm tenses on the pendant; its light beckoning her forward, demanding she perform.
She can achieve it all, right here and now. Action, fulfilling her dreams, and all she has ever wanted swell to the surface. She can be a hero, and all she needs to do is put her life in the Kamen’s hands once more.
Mindless spins and speeches had trained her for this. Daydreaming about doing flips, twists, and twirls in the air had readied her for this. Listening to Magnificent Kamen describe, show, and demonstrate her magical attack had prepared her for this.
A tiny leap, and the pain will stop.
A tiny leap, and she’ll revel in destiny.
A tiny leap, and she’ll be a hero.
She remembers his words when they first met, just after she had gotten cut by the Yamiko.
(“I’m looking for a smart little girl who can help me. A brave little girl just like you. You weren’t afraid, were you?)
(“N-No.”)
She wasn’t afraid! She couldn’t be afraid because... Because—
(“A Sailor is to be courageous at all times, valiant in the face of cruelty, and above all else, a sign of resilience for the less fortunate.”)
A tiny leap, and she’ll be Sailor Salvation.
Himei shuts her eyes and jumps from the window.
Time elongates.
Strands of hair flutter in the cold wind as her limbs turn limp and flail beside them. For a moment, she’s weightless, as if she’s adrift at sea, and it’s peaceful. She can hear nothing, see nothing, but there’s a feeling that at any moment, she’ll sink to the bottom, and it’ll be over.
But before that can happen, a pair of hands are there to catch her.
She opens her eyes, and he’s there, and he’s magnificent.
“I’ve got you,” he says, looking down at her but not down on her. “That was a very brave thing to do, Himei.” Unable to say anything, she nods, and her eyes don’t dare tear themselves away.
From up above, Dusty runs to the open window, his fur bristled and mouth agape in terror. Within seconds, he had gone from screaming her name out to staring in silent shock, relieved to find her safe but horrified to have witnessed her do something so insane.
“We’ll return soon, Dusty.”
Without another word, and with the girl still in his arms, he charges a power within his legs and leaps into the air, the neighborhood below shrinking into a patchwork of shimmering specks. Together they soar through the night sky, chilly enough to trigger goosebumps, yet she's never felt warmer.
His arms are firm and solid, yet comfortable and warm.
The pain in her head feels weak when he holds her.
She’s safe, she thinks; she’s safe right here.
“Tonight is your second mission. This will be your unofficial first battle, so consider it a prelude to things to come.” He explains, “Given your inexperience fighting the Yamiko, I will head the assault. Stay behind me, and do not engage unless told to.”
“Okay.”
The sound of shattered glass fills her with joy. In her hands is a baseball bat, and the window is nothing but shards. See, she’s always hated this place. This job, this monotony, it was like a prison sentence.
Roll call, not with a whistle or pack of dogs, but the beeping of a scanner and the ear-splitting squeals of children. The same dull walls, the same trivial tasks, over and over again, day in and day out. Stock the shelves, greet the customers, and clean up their messes. Yes, this place is a prison cell.
But perhaps calling this place a solitary confinement cell would be more appropriate.
A place where thoughts bounce off walls like echoes, and people may as well be shadowed hallucinations; they lack a soul. These people, they’re not here for connection or humanity. They’re here to shout, to throw tantrums, and to remind you that you aren’t a person. Not when you can’t forgive an overdue return or check the back for a sold-out release.
Given the circumstances, she certainly would’ve gone insane had she not been set free. Having rid herself of that disgusting weakness that held her down for so long, everything made sense. She wasn’t a cog in a machine. No, far from it. She was real, and she was free.
Free to take what she deserves.
Her boss, an annoying pest that she knew could be crushed, was to be the first thing to take. More precisely, her life. Yes, she would kill her soon, but things like this, namely the destruction of something you despise so deeply, take time. You can kill the body first, but initial emotional pain would make the kill more sweet.
Euphoric, even.
She chuckles with glee, slamming another window for added measure before stepping inside. This place, a typical run-of-the-mill video store, had once plagued her heart with malice, but now she was going to take it all back.
She swings the bat, and VHS cases explode into a cascade of confetti, fluttering to the ground like ash. Suppressing her chuckles with yells a plenty, she moves to the next aisle and gives it another swing. The shelf falls backward, an avalanche of unsold movies and hollow packaging crashing onto the damp rainbow carpet.
Her breaths grow quick and her movements wilder. Another swing. Another crash. This was no tantrum like the brats who’d come into her store would throw. No, this is liberation, raw and unfiltered.
Destruction has never felt so good—
“Stop, right there, villain.”
Her palms tense up on the bat. She hadn’t anticipated guests. Especially not a man in a white tuxedo with golden trim and top hat, nor the young girl behind him, sporting a bright blue and pink sailor costume with boots and gloves.
Something about the way the ‘Sailor’ smirks despite trembling behind the masked man irritates her. Maybe unexpected visitors were what she needed. It was getting boring, only breaking things. Now, there was really something to take her aggression out on.
“Isn’t it about bedtime for you, little girl? You know what happens to children who stay out late, don’t you?”
“No! But that doesn’t matter because... because you’re going to be beaten soon!” Himei stammers, “Nobody should be afraid of monsters hiding in the dark, like you! In the name of goodness, we'll... we’ll punish you!”
The Yamiko laughs at the notion. “Sure, I busted a few windows and destroyed some shelves, but it’s nothing too bad.” A dark smile grows as she walks towards the duo. Himei quakes like a rabbit, jittery and terrified, and the monster finds it so intoxicating. “How about I do something really bad, next?”
“Enough, vile demon!“ The Kamen orders, stopping the Yamiko in their tracks. “If you wish to battle, see to it; I’m your first opponent!”
Its eyes squint, trailing from the Sailor onto the masked man. “Doesn’t matter who goes first. I’ll kill you both—” it stops itself, shaking their head to reiterate, “No, no! I’ve never felt like this before; it’s so hard to... I’m not simply looking to murder you. I want to kill the both of you brutally.”
Its eyes fall back on the Sailor.
“Especially that child behind you. Easy pickings, right?”
Himei’s face says it all. She’s trying desperately to keep her lips sealed and under control, but it’s difficult. Each time she looks at the monster, watching her laugh giddly about murdering her, a feeling of...
Murder.
Brutal murder.
Brutally murdering her.
This beast, in the form of a woman, wants to hurt her. But why? What has she done to deserve such hatred and disdain? She’s done nothing wrong. She’s doing the right thing, isn’t she?
Why is she being told to die?
“You’ll be fine, so long as you stay here, Sailor Salvation.” The Kamen says with a widening grin as he approaches the beast, cane now in hand. “Prepare to be purged by the light!”
With a lunge forward, the battle commences.
He swings his cane down upon the monster, but the Yamiko blocks it with the barrel of its bat. Keeping their feet steady, it shoves him back and distances itself, primed to swing if he tries to charge forward again.
“Useless,” he mutters with his stiffened jaw as he lifts his cane forward, preparing to shoot her with a gathering of light energy. The monster makes a mad dash towards a shelf as the words “Cleansing Holy Beam” escape his mouth.
Amidst the blinding flash, Himei, still standing near the doorway, shields her eyes with her arms. The light shines even through her closed lids, and she winces, hoping he wins. But as she moves her arms away, squinting to see, her blood runs cold.
The same monster who had been locked in deadly combat mere moments ago looms before her. Wearing a sadistic smile with the purest eyes of hatred, they hold the bat above their head, ready to smash it directly into hers.
Every neuron in her brain sends out a single message.
Be afraid.
The bat comes down, just an itch from her face, before a flash of light erupts from behind them, smothering their body in its entirety. Moments ago, there was a monster of unimaginable terror, ready to kill a child with a weapon. Now there’s nothing but dust, a fallen bat, and that same quivering child.
A quivering child whose body has only begun to react to the shock of it all. Fallen to the ground, her chest heaves, eyes wavering across the room as her hands clench and unclench the ground. To call her dazed would be an understatement, as she doesn’t have the slightest clue of what just occurred.
Nothing except for the fact they won.
The monster was defeated, the world was saved, and all was right again. Rising to her feet with wobbly legs, she dusts off her skirt, finding solace within the benign, casual action. She continues to do this, maybe for too long, to a degree even after her heart calms and senses settle.
Magnificent Kamen, none the wiser, crouches to inspect the remains of the villain, scooping a clump of dust into his hands and watching it sparkle faintly. “This is the evil we fight,” he says with a grave, weary undertone. “Cancerous creatures born of the innocent—they are ravenous and act with little regard for anything.
“In battle, some may flee or attack, but others, more cunning Yamiko, buy their time. They slink into society before a Sailor appears and wait to strike. It’s not mindless destruction they want,” he clarifies. “It’s the hollowing of hearts of loved ones, sometimes even themselves that drives them.”
He tightens his gloved fist, crushing the dust to nothingness and rendering the twinkling light forever snuffed out.
“I had intended to disorient it first, to daze the monster with a physical strike. A risk, yes, but a calculated one.” A disappointed sigh escapes him. “Magical attacks take time to charge. In that time, you leave yourself open to an attack. I thought a blow could leave me enough time, but... they were stronger than expected.”
He gestures to the destruction around him with a sweep of his hand.
“It retaliated, and in its childish wrath, it further reduced this building to ruin.”
Himei can’t respond. If she were, it would be whimpers and murmuring. She doesn’t understand why, but still, she dusts her skirt. Even as tears fall down her cheeks and her body shakes.
Though once the Kamen rises back to her, she’s already wiped them away and steadied herself. After all, she can’t let him see her like that, now can she? She’s a Sailor now, which means she’s strong, fearless, and resilient.
That’s what Sailor Salvation is.
Resilient.
“You aren’t shaken, are you?” He asks, looking her up and down, almost studying her.
“N-No, I'm... okay.” She tries to say confidently, though it’s awkward and nervous sounding. See, sounding is the correct term because she isn’t nervous. It just sounds that way. “Thank you for... saving me again.”
“Next time, it’ll be your turn.”
Her heart flutters.
Next time, she’ll save him.
Another school day ends, and there’s a distant sniffling nearby.
Typically, children are excited to get out of school and rush out as soon as possible. However, there are a few of them, huddled in the corner, their bags slung back as they converse with each other, glancing at another child who hasn’t left their seat.
Himei is a busy girl, but she’s also a kind and curious one. After grabbing her school bag, she approaches the gathering, and raises an eye at the source of their attention. It’s a little boy, with his head over his folded arms. He’s sobbing, though the cause isn’t made clear until she overhears someone.
“Did you hear? My papa says his mom's store got broken into! They say it was a robber who broke all the windows and—“
“Stop talking about it!” The boy screams, glaring daggers at the circle around him, “Shut up about it! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Leave me alone!“
“But Urui!” Another child interjects, “We’re just worried, is all!”
“No, you aren’t! None of you are; you guys wanna make fun of me! Mommy’s not happy anymore! And she’s scared, and... and it’s not funny!“ His voice breaks into sobs, and everything he says becomes gibberish.
Himei tries her best to smile, “Don’t worry! I’m sure the bad guy who did all that won’t do it again, okay?” Everyone turns to face her, as stage fright rears its ugly head once more, and their confused, angry, and frustrated eyes dig into her. “I’m sure that... N-No, I know someone got rid of the bad guy!”
“How do you know that?” A kid demands, “The bad guy wasn’t caught; he’s still there somewhere.”
Trying to figure out how to explain why the Yamiko wouldn’t come back without revealing what had transpired the previous night, she says, “I just know, and I know that he’s safe now, and I know the Yami— Th-The monster is gone!”
“This isn’t a cartoon!” Another shouts, “Sailor Rose Wand didn’t show up, and save the day! You’re stupid!”
“No, I'm not!” Himei retorts, “Someone like Sailor Rose Wand could've; you don’t know! Someone with magic could’ve fought them and won.”
This riles up those around her, and it isn’t long before she is labeled a liar, a bully, and so many nasty things.
Himei doesn’t understand.
Urui screams through sobs, raising his blotchy and furious face at everyone. “Go away!” He yells, turning to Himei, his voice hoarse. “You’re not helping, so go away, bully!”
She steps back, swallowing hard. “I was trying to help,” she whispers, her voice hardly audible amid the rising shout of authority behind her.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Ms. Kyoshi exclaims, stepping away from her desk to approach the commotion. With a visible grimace, she forces her way through the cluster of students. “Break it up; let’s break it up straight away! Didn’t you all hear the school bell go off? It’s time to go home, now!”
As kids reluctantly shuffle out, Urui, who remains in his chair, points an accusing finger at Himei, now lingering in the back. “She was being mean!” he shouts. “She’s a bully! A meanie!”
“No, I’m not! I didn’t do anything!” She argues, but nothing she says can rip the annoyance from Kyoshi’s face. If anything, her refusal, thereby extending this argument, makes her headache worsen.
With a rub of her temple, she points to the far end wall. “I can’t deal with this right now, Himei; please just... go wait in the corner. I need to talk to Urui in private for a minute.”
“But why?! I didn’t do—”
“Enough, now do as told!”
Her heart sinks, but she doesn’t refuse. Walking to the corner with confusion and subdued frustration, she stares at the wall, listening to her teacher soothe the crying boy’s worries while leaving her in the dark.
But there’s snickering nearby, and as it grows, so does her curiosity. Turning her attention to the doorway, she notices a group of kids gathered outside, whispering, pointing, and giggling at her expense.
“...Go away—”
“Remember, eyes on the wall!”
She jerks with humiliation and turns back to the gray wall as the laughter from outside increases tenfold.
Urui's mother arrives several minutes later. By now, the kids at the door have gone off to the mall, and Urui has stopped crying, which allows the teacher to explain the situation much easier. Once Urui leaves, she is summoned to the teacher's desk.
“Himei, can you tell me what happened?”
“I… I don’t know... I heard Urui crying, and he said he was scared because his mommy’s store got broken into. But he doesn’t need to be scared anymore. I told him why, but... he started yelling at me!” Her voice trembles at that. “He wouldn’t believe me... I didn’t hurt him.”
“Well, I'm sure you didn’t on purpose. You’re a good kid, doing well in reading. Writing two grades above average; you’ve never had a complaint before, so... I understand. Emotions run high at your age, and you were trying to comfort him.”
It’s then that she pulls Himei’s notebook from under her desk and flips through the pages, her stomach dropping. “When you want to comfort someone, it’s important to be realistic.” She sets the notebook down, tapping the page, “This isn’t being realistic.”
Her finger is on a crudely drawn doodle of Sailor Salvation. Hundreds of arms encircle the self-portrait, praising her with confetti, while a poorly drawn smile sits on her lips and she raises her finger in triumph.
“It isn’t realistic to tell a scared boy he and his family are safe because a girl with magic powers stopped the threat.” She yawns, “Again, you’re a great kid; you want to help others, but this wasn’t the way to do it.”
“But… But it is realistic because I know they’re real. His mommy and daddy are safe now, I promise!” They’re safe because she and Magnificent Kamen saved them. Urui should have been smiling. He should have been happy, so why wasn’t he? Why was he screaming at her?
“It’s not good to make promises you can’t keep, Himei. A superhero didn’t save the day. Nobody did. Whoever committed this crime, they’re not like the ones in cartoons. They might still be a threat to his well-being.”
“But—“
“No buts! Do you understand?”
The silence of the room is suffocating, and the wall clock has never been louder.
“But it is real," she whispers, almost trying to convince herself of it. “It is real. I promise, it’s real…” While she can say this over and over, Kyoshi’s frown remains locked.
It’s as if nothing has changed.
It's supposed to be different now.
She’s the genuine article.
A Magical Girl.
Why has nothing changed?
Himei grips her shirt, holding the necklace hidden underneath. There’s magical energy spilling from it, and she wants to yank the necklace off and show her teacher, scream that she’s wrong and things are different now.
But she doesn’t do any of that.
The teacher asks once more, “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she responds, as her necklace dims. “I’m sorry; I understand now, ma’am.”
She doesn’t talk back for the remainder of the conversation. She stands still and listens, nodding on occasion and ignoring the lit aggression bubbling in her chest and up her throat.
Once home, she tapes the doodle from her notebook, the one of Sailor Salvation, to her door. Dusty jokes about her art, but when it’s clear Himei isn’t laughing, he apologizes and asks what she’s doing.
“Sailor Salvation is real. And every day, before I go to school, I’ll be reminded.”
She’ll make things different. She has to, because if not, everything stops mattering. She knows she can make a change, but she needs to try harder. Even if it’s confusing, she has to push through it, and she can, because that’s what being a Sailor is all about.
The air crackles with energy as the Yamiko sprints towards a sleek silver car in an abandoned parking lot. Without a moment to lose, they dive across the hood, avoiding the stream of white light that races across it like a comet.
The source of the attack, Magnificent Kamen, clicks his tongue and turns to the Sailor next to him. “Run towards the front of the car! I’ll go around the back!”
With a nod, she’s rushing towards the front lines. She has to squint to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes; her body is trembling, and her unsteady legs strain to propel her forward.
The Yamiko’s shadow lurks beyond the front bumper, and she’s afraid but refuses to admit it. It’s the adrenaline, she lies; she’s not used to it yet, but after this, she will be.
Readying her hands to unleash a magical attack, the Kamen does the same, though unlike him, this’ll be her first time doing so. With so much happening, she doesn’t even remember the movements, but there isn’t time to think.
Rounding the corner, her entire world focuses on a single emotion.
Resilience.
There, crouching low and facing her, is the Yamiko, grinning as though her hunched shoulders and trembling lower lip don't threaten him. As though he could smell her fear despite the flicker of determination in her eyes, and he’s loving every bit of it.
But she won’t let him revel for long.
She’s Sailor Salvation.
She’s a superhero.
She’s real.
She shuts her eyes and raises her trembling arms forward, ready to say the magical words of an attack she doesn’t have a name for yet. But as a smile rises to her lips, hands at the ready, another attack shrouds the monster in its grip, covering them from head to toe in light.
For a moment, Himei thinks she has claimed her first victory over the Yami-gaia. But it’s as she cocks her head up to find Magnificent Kamen lowering his cane from afar that she realizes it was his doing.
Still, despite another failure, he seems pleased with her progress.
“We’ve only been fighting together for a little over four days, and you’re making steady progress. Good job.”
She looks at the ground, de-transforming back to her school uniform. “It wasn’t good enough,” she mutters. “I wasn’t good enough.”
He remains silent, so she continues.
“I need to be better. I really, really, really want to,” make you happy, she wants to say, though she finds an alternative in “be the best Sailor I can be.”
“You made for a great distraction today. Had you not, the Yamiko would’ve prepared an attack from whichever direction I came.”
She wants to argue, but he might get mad if she does. The only thing she can do is try and prove herself next time. “When do we get to save the day, next?” She asks, turning back to him, “Please, I want to know!”
“The spawning of new Yamiko is irregular in nature. It could be tomorrow, the next day, or a week from now.” His answer does little to reassure her. “Over time, we will learn to understand them, but as of now, all we can do is wait.”
Himei’s arms fall to her side, and she ponders whether that’s good or bad.
The time between subsequent Yamiko attacks is peaceful, and peace is good. Of course, it's good; everybody knows that. Peace means that no one is afraid of monsters, and people—good people—can live their lives in the pursuit of happiness.
Everyone can smile without fear of what might lurk beyond their shoulder…
But... if the Yamiko can attack at any time and there isn’t a way to predict or stop them permanently, does the peace that lasts mean much of anything?
Waiting, and waiting, is all she and everyone can do. Eating ice cream, going to the arcade, and doing homework—all with the knowledge that somewhere out there, the Yamiko can attack and the peace isn't permanent.
She wants to be a hero—no, she is a hero—and that means she has to fight. This is her destiny, and she wants to do it for as long as possible. It makes her feel happy, powerful, and, above all else, important.
But if she's a hero, there can’t be peace.
If there isn’t peace, people will always be in danger, right?
Himei, again, doesn’t understand.
“Waiting isn’t an issue,” The Kamen explains, seemingly aware of her internal struggle. “Time between attacks is time to train.”
Himei’s shoulders droop ever further.
“You have to be kidding. I’m not cut out for this!”
Himei, already in a pseudo-fighting pose, shushes him with a wave. “Dusty~! You’re awesome, okay? You’re going to do really good! Channel your inner evilness!”
“Being awesome doesn’t equate to having the ability to play an evil monster,” he complains, his tail raised in annoyance. “I’m not a Yamiko; I’m a cat!”
“And you can be an evil cat!”
“My fur is white, the opposite of black, so I’m already not very unlucky! Besides, I’m not evil to begin with! Oh, and I don’t have a broomstick to ride on either, or...?”
“Who said you needed one? You’re a talking cat! The kids at my school don’t have pets that talk, do they? Animals aren’t supposed to talk, so you’re already a monster!”
“Wha—!“
“Look at that evil glare! You look just like them!”
“I don’t know what’s worse... The fact that you meant that as a compliment, or that I’m somehow flattered despite your slander... Hmm, how about this?” He mocks another scowl, and she backs away with played-up fear. “Wait, I can do better than that! How about... this!?” He inches forward, ears perked up, and he’s genuinely pleased with his acting.
Though this third attempt at appearing evil falters when she giggles at him.
Annoyed, he suppresses it with a half-hearted paw at one of her plushies. “We’re getting off track! Himei, I’m serious; I don’t think this is going to make you any better at fighting. This is more playtime than it is actual training.”
Part of Himei understands this. She knows this won't work as real training, but with no enemies to fight or Magnificent Kamen to train her, Dusty is all she has. This “playtime” is the only thing she can do right now.
Even he understands this to some extent, and as her smile fades and her eyes reach the bottom corners, he facepalms, mentally berating himself. Jumping to the top of the television and puffing out his fur, he does his best to submerge all of his pride. Even if this won’t work as real training, it'll still make her happy.
“Foolish Sailor! To think you can beat me in combat is nothing more than a... Er, childish delusion!”
She returns to her fighting stance, giggling quietly. “In the name of love and goodness, I will defeat you! For I am Sailor Salvation! The warrior of light, and you’re…” She twirls a few times before pointing to the sky with a hop, “About to be punished!”
“Then I’ll make the first move!”
Himei barely has time to react as he lunges straight at her face. With only a fraction of a second to react, she ducks, and watches as Dusty is sent hurtling through the air and into a vast collection of colorful plushies, thankfully breaking his fall.
She takes a second to celebrate her successful dodge, then raises her palms in the direction of the mess. “And now, for my special attack! Everything Alright Clow A—“
Before she can finish the words, Dusty comes barreling out of the mess, teeth bared, ready to rip her apart. Once again, Himei proves faster than she looks, easily darting out of the way of his charge and tracking his trajectory as he leaps past her.
“It seems you can follow my movements quite well, Sailor! If you had timed your attack right as I landed, you might’ve defeated or cornered me!” He growls and runs back at her. “But I’m faster than I look, too!”
As Dusty readies to rush her again, Himei sprints away, hoping to put enough distance between them to fully say her attack's name. Grabbing a plushie from the ground and chucks it at the feline.
“Muahaha— Yhwach!” Taken off guard by the attack, he paws at his nose, cursing under his breath. The brief distraction is enough for Himei to put some distance between them, and this time, hopefully get her attack off.
“G-Glowing Marbly Screw Att–”
Again, he sprints forward, cutting her words off and forcing another retreat backward.
“And it appears this Sailor still hasn’t come up with a name for her magical attack yet!” He mocks with a lengthy, drawn-out fit of dramatic laughter. “How many new words can you string together before you die?!”
“Just enough!”
“You’re cheap methods of prolonging your death anger me!” His eyes flare with aggression. “Prepare to die, brutally!”
Brutally…
As he takes to the air, she locks in place, nailed to the ground like a statue. Though this may solely be a practice round, Dusty’s playful grin feels sadistic when his eyes dig into hers.
Her legs wobble for a fraction of a second, and that’s all that it takes. She stumbles backwards, and topples over like a deck of cards. The second she hits the ground, a scorching pain unravels at her wrist as Dusty’s claws rake across it.
There’s a yell, then a stabbing pressure as she clutches the wound. Scrambling back, she turns her head away, as tears prick her eyes. “Y-You cut me! That… that hurts!”
“I'm sorry, Himei! I didn’t mean that!” He rushes to her side, tone-ridden panic in his voice. “Are you okay?! I thought you—“
“I’m… I’m okay…” Himei stammers with a shaky smile. “Don’t worry…”
Dusty, speechless as he is, looks from her smiling face, to her hand, back and forth. She’s smiling. Smiling even though, if he looks closely enough, he can see a set of five crimson cuts growing in size, the peachy skin surrounding the cut a vibrant red.
“I tripped,” she continues, “I... I need to work on that and come up with a name for my special attack.” She steadies her footing once upright again. “So, let's do it again.”
He retorts, stomping his paw on the ground. “Absolutely not! This wasn’t even training, and you got hurt. What you need to do is—“
“If I don’t get better at this, Magnificent Kamen might get mad at me. He told me I have to save him, and I want to do that. But I need to get good at not being,” there’s hesitation, and the grip on her hand tightens, “at not being clumsy anymore.”
He sees the determination in her eyes, but he can’t ignore the pain there, either.
“…”
“Please, Dusty. You’re the only one who can help me with this.”
He doesn’t have a choice. As her guardian animal, it’s his duty to help when Magnificent Kamen can’t. Besides, the look in her eye is upsetting enough. He doesn’t want to make her feel any worse than this.
“Fine, we’ll do it again. But… and this is a big, but—let's go a bit slower, okay?”
“Mhm, thank you, Dusty.”
The hallway of the empty, dimly lit movie theater echoes with the sound of pants and heeled footsteps. Himei was exhausted, but it was the only thing she could think to do on such short notice.
In her hands are those of an unconscious girl, her limp body dragging across the carpeted floor as Himei tries her best to pull her to safety. Reaching a snack bar, she makes sure the coast is clear before pulling her under the counter.
“There,” she pants, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “I doubt the Yamiko will find you here. I hope…” She takes a moment to catch her breath, adrenaline still pumping amid the distant sounds of battle. But for this brief period, it's silent.
It’s in that stillness that Himei has a chance to look at the girl she saved. Brushing a strand of her hair to the side, the girl’s serene looking when compared to her Yamiko counterpart. Additionally, she can’t help but notice how young she is. Maybe a year or two older than her.
It was odd how someone so calm-looking could harbor such a monster that threatened to destroy everything in her life. Her own life. The Yamiko may have acted differently, but they were still the same, right?
Same memories, same appearance, same impulses, although perhaps more destructively negative. The obvious question to be asked was, where had the goodness gone?
That’s when curiosity turns to concern as a wave of bruises sprawled across the girl’s back come into view due to a shift in her shirt. Like a constellation of misery, each mark makes her sicker. The girl stirs, a groan escaping her lips, and Himei can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her, the urgency of the outside battle creeping back in.
The battle that she left behind.
“Magnificent Kamen!” She gasps, shooting back to her feet, dread carving her chest inside out. She had left him alone, in the auditorium with the monster, while she went to bring this girl to safety.
“You’ll be okay now,” she whispers. “I promise, you’ll be okay.”
All this time, she had been confused. The Yamiko were her enemy, she had been told, a threat to everything and everyone. Those were words from Magnificent Kamen, and she had believed them.
But words were simply that. Words. Witnessing their carnage firsthand, now she knows how bad they are. And she knows she has to stop this one tonight.
Making a mad dash down the hallway and towards the auditorium, she’s running as fast as she can, counting each door as she passes it. “One, two, three." Each door she passes, the closer she gets, and the faster her heart races.
This will be it. She’s going to save him. She’s going to live up to her word and save him.
Before long, she reaches the door marked by an 'eight' and uses her full body weight to force it open. There’s a loud creak, and Himei takes in the sight before her.
Below the row of stairs, across the countless aisles of seats, and at the far end of the auditorium, Magnificent Kamen stands tall, cane pointed at the monster with energy crackling at its end. The Yamiko, unfazed by this threat to its life, backs away towards an exit door.
For a fraction of a second, she turns her attention to the source of the creak, sneering at the appearance of the Sailor. “Ah, the other—“
Magnificent Kamen tries to seize the distraction, charging his cane forward to launch an attack, but the Yamiko mocks an obvious dodge, forcing his cane down.
“Ah-ah-ah! That’d be too easy, wouldn’t it?” It giggles playfully. “If I let you fire that beam, and you actually hit me, that wouldn’t be very fun.” She tilts her head and points at his cane. “Why do you keep hesitating to attack, I wonder?”
He doesn’t respond.
“If you wanted to use that fancy toy of yours like a gun and go haywire, you would’ve done it already. But you haven’t, have you? I wonder... you don’t actually have to say the full name of your attack to use it, do you?”
Again, the Kamen stays silent, jaw clenched, but the Yamiko’s smile grows.
“Look at you,” she taunts, stepping towards the exit door. “All bark and no bite. You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared to attack!”
No.
Sailor Salvation stands straight, feet secured to the ground, every nerve in her body alive, and the world blurred at the edges. Her heightened senses center on her heartbeat, the pendant pulsating in perfect synchrony.
A warmth erupts from it, surging through her veins till her palms burn like suns and white energy bubbles to molten life before her.
The Yamiko grips its face, nails threatening to tear skin. “Both of you are weak! Like this disgusting body I’m trapped in! Where is that girl, by the way? I still have yet to punish her for being such—“
“You’re the only one who's going to be punished! I won’t let you hurt anyone else!” Sailor Salvation shouts, focusing her attack not on the Yamiko but at its means of escape. Summoning every ounce of courage she can muster, she screams:
“Purifying Shining Light Attack!”
A glittering stream of white light and stars arcs through the air towards the exit door. The creature, taken by surprise, turns to escape, only for the exit to be flooded with light.
That hesitation is all Magnificent Kamen needs as he unleashes his attack on the beast, ending its reign of terror then and there. Himei presses her hands to her knees and takes a well-deserved minute to recover.
The evil darkness has once more been pushed back for now, and next time, Himei will be there to stop it again. She promises this to herself.
Promises.
Magnificent Kamen ascends the steps, cape flowing behind, acting like a banner of victory over the enemy. “Exceptionally done, Sailor Salvation.” His voice is warm. “For only a week and two days, you have adjusted to your new destiny faster than I had expected.”
“…R-Really?”
“Yes, if it weren’t for you, that Yamiko may have escaped and claimed a life, or worse, claimed mine.” The words hover as her face darkens. “I do hope you understand. You played a valiant role in my survival tonight.”
She’s speechless, incapable of forming a thought, let alone getting out a word.
“You saved me, Himei, and have proven yourself. As such, I feel it is time to tell you a harsh truth about this battle between light versus dark.” She readies herself and listens. “This Yamiko menace is only one of the many acts of evil that have infested itself across Tokyo. In truth, it is a vast network of darkness.”
“Wh-What’re you saying?”
“I must answer all calls in the name of justice, no matter how dastardly. That… That is my responsibility.”
She tries to process his words, though she can’t understand. “But what else are you facing?! If it’s scary, then…” She feels her legs tremble, but she forces them still. “Let me help you! I’m strong now, see? I saved you, didn’t I?”
“You did. But this fight, this duty, it is mine and mine alone.” Again, he stands there, allowing her to process everything he’s saying. “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that you too have a duty. A duty that I cannot always be there to fulfill.”
“What do you mean?”
“At the moment, there are periods when I'm unavailable. Threats may arise when I cannot be there to fight. That is where you, Sailor Salvation, must take on a crucial, most important role.”
She knows what he’s insinuating, yet she still asks for clarification even if she knows the answer.
“You mean... I have to fight alone?!”
“Yes. I’ve trained you well enough to stand on your own.”
“…”
His voice drops to a low, easing tone, and he looks on with what Himei believes is earnest faith. “Trust in yourself, Himei. Trust in your training, and trust in your destiny. I would not have chosen any other little girl to be Sailor Salvation except for you.”
Her cheeks flush a bright ruby red, and she can’t help but feel important. So, so, so important, powerful, and most important of all, listened to.
Again, she gathers all the courage she can and shoots a thumbs up. “I want to help.” She says with as much professionalism as an eleven-year-old can muster. “I want to make you happy. So, I’ll do it. I’ll do it just like Sailor Rose Wand!”
While he seems content, there is a sense of irritation on his face. “The television show?” He whispers to himself.
“Oh my goodness, do you watch Sailor Rose Wand?” Himei asks with hands on her cheeks, “She’s my favorite superhero! She fights for her magical Eternal Garden because she’s destined to become a princess in the future, and her castle’s there and—“
“I don’t have any interest in the art form of cable television or films.”
“Guess you hate that we’re in a movie theater, then, right? Hahaha~!”
“Maybe so. What a filthy place this is.” Looking down, he finds the bottom of his foot glued to the ground with a layer of sticky spilt soda and popcorn. “Disgusting.”
“Wow, have you never been to a movie theater before? Oh, oh, oh! It’s gross, but the movies are so good! And the people who work here, the workers, they’re nice, by the way, reward you with candy if I help them clean!”
“Hm.”
For the seventh time, he looks back at the wall clock. It’s a quarter past four and classes end at two. She should be home by now, Dusty thinks, scratching the welcome mat to calm his nerves.
By the first quarter, he had pondered if she’d stayed after school to finish overdue homework, joined a club, or made a friend; it didn’t matter how or why, he wanted a reason for her absence.
By the second quarter, he suspected she might have gone off to play at the park or arcade. Those were her favorite places to visit, and someone her age, with her level of freedom, ought to have fun, right?
But as the third quarter went by without the girl's appearance, he began to suspect she might’ve gone off to fight a Yamiko. Dusty, like Himei and the Kamen, could sense them, but only within a few miles; if one were to appear in the city, near her school, he would have been none the wiser.
The thing was, Yamiko fights typically ended within a few minutes, but he had been waiting much longer than that.
Much longer.
Dusty checks the clock as the last quarter approaches. It’s been two hours now, and Himei still hasn’t returned. He can’t shake the feeling something is wrong. Very wrong.
What if…
What if she’s been hurt?
Dread pins him to the floor, scratches against the mat, once comforting, now fueling his ever-growing anxieties. His claws, carving the mat below, like they had to Himei’s hand a few days prior. What if a Yamiko had done the same to her, or worse?
The image of a Yamiko pulling the little girl into an alleyway, shredding her body from left to right with daggers... He can’t bear the thought, yet his imagination doesn't relent, showering him with her agonizing wails.
That could be happening to her right now.
That could’ve already happened.
His stomach wrenches, ready to cough up a hairball, and his fear swells for a final time, no longer an abstract weight but a physical force.
Invisible hands, invisible phantoms of his fear, they grasp at him, lifting him from the ground and propelling him forward toward the door. The fact his paws can’t reach, let alone twist the doorknob, doesn’t matter; his terror screams louder.
With his paw ready to strike the door in a futile gesture of defiance, a sudden squeal tears from his throat, the door swinging open by the same little girl driving him mad for the last two hours.
She looks the same as always.
A sweet little girl with a blush on her cheeks made prominent by the cold. As she closes the door and turns to him, there’s that same pep in her step she always has. She always has... and he wants to make sure of it.
Himei is confused as the cat scans her, a peeved look on his face. She wants to speak, though Dusty does before her. “Where were you?! I’ve… I’ve been waiting for you to get home, Himei!”
Her mouth, at first ready to greet him openly, retracts in surprise. Stuck between explaining where she went and asking why he’s so mad, she whispers, “You're... not supposed to speak when Mommy and Daddy are home.”
Knowing Himei’s parents, he reasons they likely wouldn’t care if they learned he could talk, but still acknowledges his mistake with a grimace. “I was worried sick is all,” he groans. “Were you... hurt?”
“Why would I be hurt?”
“Wh—Because of the Yamiko?!”
“I didn’t fight any Yamiko?” She explains, smiling all giddy like, “I was playing at the arcade!”
Dusty falls silent, processing her words. He glances at the mat he mangled to a heavy degree. Maybe he does need to get declawed; he doesn’t say out loud. That, or find a better outlet for stress, like lip-biting. Least then, he’d be damaging only himself.
When he looks back at Himei, she’s placing a large plastic bag onto a table and unzipping her coat.
“What’s that—?“
“No peeking!” She reprimands, “I’ll show you once we’re in my room, okay?”
Dusty frowns, but caves into her whims; curiosity piqued. Himei flings off her jacket, revealing her white heart pendant that now rests over her red shirt, no longer hidden, and cups her mouth.
“Mommy, Daddy, I’m ho~ome!”
There, of course, isn’t a response, though that’s fine. She purely says it out of habit. Grabbing her bag and rushing upstairs, Dusty follows in tow.
“A celebration gift?”
“Mhm!” Himei smiles, pointing at the cat, “Now cover your eyes!”
“Wait, wait, hold on! What’s this celebration even for?”
“I said close your eyes, Dusty!”
The cat huffs, knowing when Himei wants him to do something, he’ll inevitably end up doing it. If that’s because of the smile she gives him when he listens to her or the cat treats she rewards him with after listening, he’ll never say, but in any case, his paws cover his eyes, giving the illusion he’s blind, even though he can still see fine.
Pleased, Himei confirms with a cute, “You can’t see now, right?”
“…Yes.”
“Hehe, great!”
Reaching into the plastic bag, Dusty watches with interest, only to have his mouth drop when she pulls out a black cat plush, nearly the size of Dusty himself.
“Okaaaay, open your eyes!”
He tries to hide a small chuckle as he pulls his paws away. “Wow, wh-what is that?!” He asks with genuine curiosity, layered on top of an overacted look of shock.
Himei, none the wiser, replies, “It’s your wife!” If Dusty had been drinking, he would have spit it out then and there. Himei squints her eyes at the tag: “Dusty, meet... Stella! Stella, meet Dusty!”
“You’ve got to be kidding! I would never, in a million years, be a husband to some plushie! Besides, she’s a black cat! Didn’t I say black cats are bad luck a few days ago?!”
“You’re not being gentlemanly, Dusty! She’s soft and cuddly, see?” She chucks the plushie at him, but of course, Dusty doesn’t have hands to catch and ends up smooshed. “Awe, and you’re already cuddling with her, too!”
“Mmmuuurrr! Mrrrrp— Mmm…?” Pawing the plushie off his body, he peers at it with surprise, “Hey, this is kind of soft. Way softer than I expected…”
“See? Now you have a cuddle buddy!”
“I thought you were my cuddle buddy!”
“You always complain when we snuggle, though.”
“Yeah, because when we cuddle, it’s only after you’ve read a good book or seen a sad movie and need something to hold.” He shudders and bites his teeth. “And by hold, I mean strangle! Remembering it... struggling to breathe... I thought I was going to die.”
“See!”
“It’s not like I don’t enjoy cuddling; I’d just prefer it if it didn’t feel like you were trying to suffocate me all the time. You’re scarily good at doing that, by the way.” After shuddering a bit more, he straightens his posture. “You said this was a celebration gift, didn’t you? What’re you celebrating exactly?”
She giggles, raising her finger in the air. “Magnificent Kamen said I can go out on my own now since I saved him! So I went to the UFO catchers at the arcade to celebrate and—“
“Wait, hold on!” Dusty exclaims, holding his paw out, “Let me get this straight! He told you it’s fine to fight Yamiko alone?”
“He didn't just say I was fine to do so! He said I’m ready to!”
“Right, right, you’re ready... This doesn’t mean you’re actually going in there alone from now on, right? Just that you feasibly could?”
“…”
“Himei, he’ll still be there to help, won’t he?!”
“I... I don’t know... He’s doing a lot, he said. It’s my job to make sure evil doesn’t have a chance to do anything when he’s busy, so…” Dusty feels chills riding down his back, but Himei’s smile returns, “My training is over now, so I’m going all out!”
“Is it though?” He can’t look Himei in the eyes. “It’s only been a week and a half, and while I’m sure you’re making great progress... is it enough that you won’t...”
“…”
“Himei, I’ve been doing some thinking.” He hesitates to continue, lips pressed together in an uneasy smile, claws ready to pop. “Don't you think all of this is getting to be too much for you? These Yamiko... they're... not—”
“I’m ready, now.” Himei interrupts, stance firm, voice unwavering. “Magnificent Kamen said I was ready, and he asked me to help.”
“Maybe he did, but still!”
“I saved him from a Yamiko! Me! I saved Magnificent Kamen, and I wasn’t scared! I saved a girl too, and I… I jumped out of my window! And… I’m Sailor Salvation! I’m a superhero! Because... Because I was meant to be one!”
Dusty can’t find the words to argue.
“That evil lady cut my hand before I had powers! And she was scary, but I wasn’t scared. Pretty Magical Soldiers aren’t afraid! They’re super duper strong, and important, and so am I.”
“Listen, I… I wasn’t trying to say…” Dusty pauses, searching for a suitable way to get his thoughts across. “I’m… I’m confused, that's all.”
Dusty’s knowledge of Sailors was limited, but he knew the Kamen had been fighting them for years. How many, to be exact, he didn’t know, but even a year was quite a long time. Himei, on the other hand, had been fighting for a few days. Barely any practice, and now she’s saving him?
Something feels wrong. Like the way this was all happening was...
Was—
“It’s okay to be confused; remember? Figuring things out as we go? You said so yourself, remember?” She reaches over and lightly scratches behind his ear, making him lean into the touch, albeit with some hesitation. “Being confused is part of being a hero. You’re a hero too! You’re the same as me.”
“I said all that because it’s true for you,” Dusty mumbles. “I’m not a hero, Himei... I’m not going out there and fighting monsters like you are. I’m just a cat who says stupid things sometimes…”
“No, you’re wrong,” she argues, her voice as warm as ever, matching her smile. “You’re always trying your hardest for me... Listening and making me happy when things don’t make sense. You’re always here for me, and when you are, I know, I’ll be okay.”
Himei’s voice turns to a whisper, her gaze now on her lap as she continues to rub Dusty’s fur in quiet contemplation. It goes on like this for a while, nothing but silence that stretches on for an eternity.
Eventually, she looks at him with both innocence and something far older than her eleven years. “You’re like Magnificent Kamen, you know,” she says. “You’re a hero, Dusty.”
Dusty’s ears flatten, and like before, he doesn’t have a retort.
Himei removes her hand from his ear and reaches back into the plastic bag, pulling out a colorful calendar covered in doodles of stars and hearts. “See this?”
“What’s that for?”
“Keeping track of Yamiko stuff.” She answers, flipping through the pages until stopping in January. “I’m still confused... But I want to take this seriously, so I thought maybe... if I keep track, I can figure something out, like a pattern. And maybe we both won’t be so confused.”
After taping the calendar to the wall, she makes quick work of marking off days.
Before long, the entirety of January 1995 is marked off. Black crosses signify a regular day, while red hearts are reserved for Yamiko attacks.
Closing the marker and stepping back, a smile creeps onto her face as she admires her handiwork. “It’s really funny. Magnificent Kamen said that every day was going to be like a new adventure. I don’t think he was lying, hehe!”
“Is that another reason why you bought the calendar?” Dusty questions, pointing at the black and red markings. “So you could ‘symbolically’ mark off each day like the end of an episode?”
“I, um, no! I don’t even know what symbolic means!” Himei’s cheeks flush, and as usual, she’s a terrible liar. Dusty doesn't argue back, though. “A Sailor Salvation show does sound cool, though. How many people do you think would watch it?”
“All of Tokyo.”
“Hehehe~!”
It was time.
All the practice, the mock magical girl poses in the mirror, doodles in sketchbooks, and fear of failure submerged through trials and tribulation—all of it, all of her hard work to live up to her destiny was about to be made manifest.
Finding the Yamiko wasn’t hard; her sixth sense was painful, but it worked to her benefit. Following the burning white hot pains like a moth to a flame, it was as if her body was being pulled towards the threat.
And a threat it was.
The Yamiko, taking the form of a boy somewhere between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, peered through the windows of an abandoned school building in the dead of night. Considering their age, Himei assumes the monster perhaps attended the school, though it was a junior high school, so unless they hadn’t graduated in the last ten years or so then...
The thought vanishes as she clues in on a spot to give her Sailor-spirited speech.
Bingo!
As the man glances at a window to the school, hoping to witness what his newfound freedom had given him, snarled teeth and all, he catches the reflection of a figure staring back from afar, arms crossed and posture firm.
The sight startles him, makes him spin around all funny-like, and widen his eyes when he realizes the reflection wasn’t in his mind. Oh no, it’s real, and she announces such things.
“Only thought you were seeing things, right? Did I scare you? Well good! Villains should be scared of heroes like me!”
“Villain? A villain, is that what you think I am?” He questions with an intense jolly, out-of-date by a month. “I’m only a normal high school student; you know, I haven’t done anything.”
“That’s what they all say!” She pauses, “I think? No regular person would try to break into a school unless they had evil intentions!”
“Oh, no, no, no! See, that’s where you’re wrong; I’m not evil, yeah? I’m just... a concerned student looking for my little sister. She didn’t return from school today, and I…” He can barely keep this act of innocence alive for long. “I’m worried for her, so I came to check out the school.”
Himei remains frozen; if it’s from the cold breaking through her warm aura or hesitancy, she’s unsure. Either way, the monster snarls at her, showing off his canines, hoping to spark some inkling of fear.
“So, so, so worried... She runs off a lot, you know? Stays at school late, refuses to come home, always running off. It’s quite a bother. I just want my sister home, you know?”
“I… I…”
“You’re a little girl too, right? You get it, don’t you?” He moves forward, cupping his fist. “I want to go in there and see if I can find her... I only want to teach her a fast and easy little lesson.” His words linger on that word, easy.
It’s going to be so easy for him to teach the little bitch a lesson. So, so, so very easy. And so much fun, not for her, of course, but for him.
“So why don’t you—”
“I didn’t ask, villain!” She interrupts, stopping his spiel and giving her time to calm herself. His eyes, and only his eyes, the adversaries eyes, are on her. She won’t show fear here. Twirling around the car’s roof, doing a hop and pointing at the sky, she announces, “For I am the Pretty Magical Soldier: Sailor Salvation! In the name of light, love, and goodness, I will punish you, icky Yamiko monster!”
“The enemy,” he whispers, the mask of innocent normality melting away to reveal a true, insidious monster. “I don’t know how, but I know. You’re the enemy, aren’t you, Sailor?”
“No! You’re my enemy!”
The monster laughs at that pitiful attempt at a comeback. Such confidence for someone who was going to soon be nothing more than a few bloodsplatters over his fists and clothes.
Amusing, it was.
“I only thought to let my anger out on my sister and punish her for being so very bad. But, then, it seems... you would make for a great warm-up kill, Sailor Salvation.”
His efforts to terrify her are proving effective.
Like a coke fiend searching for his next hit, each dose ramping with the next, he hungers for more. More fear. More, and more, and more until she screams and begs.
No more words, nothing more than a predatory grin and a charge forward towards the lone little girl. He’s fast too, faster than any track athlete Himei has ever seen.
Panicked, she raises her arms forward, toward the approaching beast.
“Purifying Shining Light At—“
Desperate as she is, he’s much too fast for her. Seconds before the sentence is finished, he leaps atop the car, denting the hood and smashing the front window.
He doesn’t care, of course; the animalistic bloodlust driving him to do these things only cares for one thing, and one thing alone: her blood on his hands.
She gasps as the car rocks beneath her, throwing off her balance and sending her tumbling off the car's side and to the ground, but she manages to catch her footing at the last second.
She’s panting, taken aback, and shaking. But she’s holding it all in, right now.
She can’t stop to breathe, even for a second.
She needs to focus and—
The Yamiko springs off the car and towards her, mere inches from her body as she leaps away. While she’s panting out of exhaustion, he’s panting like a dog on the hunt, salivating with excitement and joy at watching his chew toy try to run.
It’s like a game of catch he thinks, and boy was he going to squeeze out every whimper and scream the moment he got his hands on—
His thoughts stop there, as Himei charges forward and shoulder-checks the monster directly into the car door. The impact staggers him, maybe far worse than intended. With a shout, he slumps onto the ground, unmoving.
Himei stumbles back, cupping her shoulder in shared pain. The impact, she could’ve never imagined it hurt this badly. She had seen an attack like this in an American action movie, but the good guy brushed it off like nothing.
Sailor Rose Wand always brushed these fights off like they were nothing. Always with a witty quip, proclamation of goodness, and finishing move. Never shaking, never faltering, never stumbling.
Her knees threaten to buckle as her vision blurs, and she heaves, choking on her desperate pants. She’ll end the fight with her magic. It’ll be okay. Her legs tremble beneath her, but she’s managing a smile, bolstered by victory and adrenaline.
She’s won. She has to have won.
Dust, she’ll turn him to dust once she—
Without warning, the Yamiko lunges up from the ground, even more energized than before, and with a look far fiercer than she can stand the sight of. Her heart is on the cusp of exploding as she sidesteps a swipe at her face.
“No! No, stay away!”
Another punch to her left; she’s barely grazed by. Her entire body aches, and her voice is raspy. She’s exhausted. The ground feels like quicksand, her vision is fading, and the monster sneers.
“Stop—“
Another blur of motion, a kick that nicks her side, inciting a small yelp. The Yamiko smiles with glee, and he knows she's getting slower and weaker.
Another onslaught, faster and more chaotic, rushes past her as she tries to dodge, but her legs wobble. Caught on a crack in the concrete, she’s sent barreling for balance.
Time is frozen now, her limbs flailing as she instinctively attempts to catch herself.
Ready to brace, a shadow zips by.
A fist, a blur of motion, hurtling towards her cheek.
There's a shriek. Shrill and horrid, yet oddly familiar. Between sunken heartbeats, Himei realizes the scream is her own, and that is precisely the moment her world's rendered mute, as a tide of agony at her cheek tunnels its way across her skull and down her spine.
It hurts, and it’s spinning her world out of focus, round and round till she’s on her back, gazing at the blurry star-filled night sky above, with tiny milk dots mashed together.
The ground beneath feels like it’s crumbling away now. Like her labored breathing and pounding of a heart are falling away, and she’s fading deeper and deeper until her soul is dancing among the stars in that infinite cosmos.
She forgets.
She forgets the fight, the Yamiko, and the pain.
There is nothing but the stars above and the weightlessness in her limbs.
Nothing hurts. Nothing is urgent. Nothing matters.
But soon, she’s falling back to earth, and there’s nothing to hold onto but the stars. Bright and beautiful stars, so far from reach. If… If only she could grab one so she doesn’t hit the bottom. So she doesn't fall back into this. Fall back to reality. Back to here.
Please let her stay; she doesn’t want to—
Gasping for air and rolling onto her stomach, her senses return. She’s trying to get up, but her arms, the twigs they are, shamble and shake under her weight. She’s suppressing tears too, because Sailors don’t cry. They fight.
Her eyes are planted on the threat before her, but the stars stay, spinning and spinning—
It’s going to be okay.
Trembling legs, they won’t stop; why won’t they—
It’s all going to be okay.
The tang of metal in her mouth, thick and wrong—
She’s pulling through.
Mom, Dad, Dusty, her teachers, classmates, and Magnificent Kamen would be proud, right? They're cheering her on, hands raised, screaming words of praise with confetti in the air as she continues to fight.
Breathe; she needs to breathe. A quick breath, and she’ll be—
A punch against her stomach sends tremors throughout her body, like a virus of agony taking hold of its host. She tries to wrench out a loud, defying scream, but all that comes is a hot, acidic puke onto the asphalt. Like her body is fighting the virus, desperate to purge it by any means but failing.
Failing.
It hurts.
It hurts worse than any ice cream-induced brain freeze. Worse than any punishing slap, stubbed toe, chipped tooth, or clawed scratch against the wrist.
It hurts.
The words run through her head, like a loop, spinning again and again.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—
“You made a mess of the ground, you disgusting piece of—“
The Yamiko stammers back with a rugged fist to the face. He’s surprised, though she doesn’t have the strength to press on, speak a word, or run.
A show of defiance, that’s all it is.
Even though she’s so—
No…
She’s just... She wants to—
Silenced by another punch.
She’s too hurt to stand now, so even the weakest jab would’ve sent her down. This one, this excruciatingly painful sting against her arm—he had put his entire body into it, she can tell. And as her tiny, fragile body tumbles across the ground all over again, round and round, her heart latches onto that fact.
It wasn’t a weak one.
It wasn’t a weak one...
Her back hits the car, and the spinning stops. She’s trying to get up, but her spasming legs can’t get a grip on the ground. She tries to speak next, but her saliva is thick like glue, slurring her words. Finally, she tries to attack, but her arms are tired and weak.
Her pendant dims to a fragile hum, unable to light even an inch around itself.
She’s scared.
She’s always been scared, but now, for once, she can finally stop lying to herself.
She’s scared. She’s afraid. She doesn’t want to be here. She wants to go home and pet Dusty. She wants to play at the arcade, hug her plushies, and...
Tears break through the surface as the monster trudges towards her, smiling with wickedness. She wishes her Mom, Dad, and Dusty were all here, so she won’t have to cry alone.
She doesn’t want to cry alone anymore.
“No more,” she begs, though words mean nothing to the monster. Even if they did, he wouldn’t be able to understand her through the snot, tears, and bile. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I’m scared! I’m scared, please—”
She’s still trying to get up, even now. Even as he’s pinned her with his hands, ready to kill her. Her legs struggle erratic like a seizure, arms ragged against his shirt and head thrashing about.
She wants this to stop now; she’s scared, she’s weak, she’s afraid, and he’s hurting her. She begs for this to be over, for the world to fade to nothingness, and for this to have all been a bad dream or television show.
This fear, pain, and suffering gripping her—she wants it gone.
Her wish gets granted.
“Cleansing Holy Beam!”
A flash of light whizzes past her, hitting the Yamiko and dissolving him into dust. Himei doesn’t say or do anything. She rests on the ground and stares forward, looking at nothing in particular.
The threat is gone, the world is saved, and now the pain can begin to fade, and the silence, that errie, deafening silence, is more calming than it’s ever been before.
“Sailor Salvation…”
She can barely lift her head to meet the scowl of Magnificent Kamen, who stands a ways away, arms crossed and a look of discontent with the damage around him. It’s only as Himei gathers enough strength to look at him that he strolls towards her.
He remains silent, however, dramatically shaking his head before pointing his cane at the state of the broken, busted-up car that she leans against. “What is the meaning of this, Sailor Salvation? Collateral damage of this magnitude,” his tone grows colder, “you are not just a warrior. You are a symbol. A protector. What does this destruction say about you?”
“What… was I s-supposed to do?” She asks, slurring the question out. “He was f-fast... and... a-and I didn’t know what to do, and I... I—“
“You panicked and were reckless. Mistake after mistake, and look what it got you?” He points at the shattered glass below, followed by the stain of vomited curry a few meters away.
Sweet, sweet curry she can’t bear the sight of.
“You’ve made quite a mess. One that, in the morning, the rest of the world must clean, without reward. A protector who forgets their responsibility to safeguard both lives and the world they inhabit might as well hand the victory to the Yami-gaia.”
“…sorry.”
That’s all the response she gives. Besides that, it’s tears. Agonizing, sniveling tears she can’t control anymore.
Magnificent Kamen isn’t pleased by it.
“It appears you have also forgotten what I said upon your very first transformation into Sailor Salvation. A Sailor is to be courageous amidst hardship. These... tears are not a reflection of the strength of a Sailor.”
“I’m…”
“No, there is nothing left to be said tonight. Only that you are to be more disciplined, and next time, less reckless.” His nose wrinkles. “Do you understand?”
“…yes.”
“Good, then on account of my coming, it would be best I take you home. I wouldn’t want any more trouble from you tonight. Don’t expect this offer after every battle.”
The flight home, though he still carries her in his arms, has never been as cold as it is now. Although she remains in costume, the magical aura shielding her from the cold may as well not have been there.
So cold, she shivers.
Dusty is sprawled out in bed, one paw draped over his eyes, the other on his belly. It’s comfy, he’ll admit, but not enough to hold his unconsciousness for long. Cats are lazy creatures, but Dusty is different; he might not even be a cat anymore, for all he knows.
Unlike other felines, he has a lot more issues to worry about than chasing rats, eating food, or sleeping. All of which have long since been satiated by now. Himei, who was out on another mission for an extended period, was the current one.
She had gone off as soon as the urge came to her and Dusty had been waiting. Waiting so very long, and the longer he sat here, the fewer the odds grew he’d have a restful night's sleep.
It was a good thing that a sudden whoosh, followed by a series of thuds at the window, alerted him of her return. And not only that, the Kamen as well.
Jumping to the ground for a closer look, the silhouette of Himei, previously held in bridal style by the Kamen, clambered out of his hands, tumbling through the window and into the room.
Tail flicking and ears low, he looks to Himei, “H-Hey! Are you… Are you tired? How’d it… go?” The girl doesn’t return his gaze, shuffling towards her futon with a soft whimper. “Himei…?”
With a gentle thump, she falls into bed, pulling the covers over her face and withdrawing from everything. For a time, all was still. The fluttering of the Kamen’s cape and the strained breaths of Himei darkening the atmosphere. That is, until a sharp, demanding meow breaks the silence.
“What happened out there?!”
Himei, of course, doesn’t respond, merely rolling to the side and retreating into the covers.
“What in the... Magnificent Kamen! What happened when you both—“
“She lost in a fight against the Yamiko. I had to step in, saving her, but the damage had already been done.” He sighs, “A car was rendered inoperable, and the—“
“Is Himei okay?! She sounds hurt! What happened out there?”
Magnificent Kamen remains silent, though the air surrounding him turns frigid. A true imposing form bore on the feline, solid yet hollow, resembling that of a statue more than a man.
“She will heal. All Sailors do, with time.”
The cat glances at the bed, at the bump beneath the covers where Himei shudders despite her best efforts to disguise it. Sensitive cat ears make hiding it a nigh impossible task.
“She’s lucky I arrived when I did,” The Kamen continues, “throwing herself into battle without a plan—she lacked discipline and was reckless in that fight. What you see now are the consequences.”
Dusty hears the girl whimper a soft, 'sorry’ from under the covers, and his fur stands on edge. “She should’ve been trained more.” He says above a whisper, words directed more to himself than the Kamen. “If she had been trained more, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“There’s only so much to learn until the bird must leave its nest. She has received more than enough training, Dusty; you know this.”
“Then why is she hurt?” He asks, turning back to face him, a sharp look piercing into the Kamen’s solid gaze. “Why is she hurt? I don’t understand.”
“...”
“And I don’t understand why you’re being silent all of a sudden either.” That piercing glare, slowly but surely, is tensing, trying to chisel at the stone look the Kamen is giving him. He wants answers, and now, when they matter the most, it’s as if he’s being denied them. “If she’s ready, why is this whole... thing happening?”
“...”
“Stop staring, and give me an answer!”
“Enough,” the Kamen orders, and with the smallest scrunch of his nose, the metaphorical chisel breaks. “I expected better from you, Dusty. The way of a Sailor, all the knowledge I have given you, have you forgotten it all?”
“N-No… But, even so, it doesn’t—“
“Matter? Are you going to lecture me about the rights and wrongs of Sailor teachings? I don’t doubt your snark, but I had never expected it to be directed at me, the source of your power, and—”
“No! No, you stop, right there! If this power was as good as you say it is, I could be out there with Himei! She wouldn’t have been alone, fighting, while you run off for some important mission!”
“Whoever said you couldn’t?”
“That’s—”
“Not once is it stated that a guardian animal is prohibited from joining their Sailor in combat. Now, why is it you chose not to join her? Is it arrogance? Rather than fight, you’d prefer to stick your nose in the air and tell others what to do? Or, is it simply fear—”
“This isn’t about me; it’s about you! I’m asking you why you’ve only trained her to the bare minimum and are suddenly sending her out on her own! What the hell is this mission that’s so important anyway?!”
“It seems you lack a greater scope of the situation.”
“Then stop being so vague with everything! Come out with it! I want to know why you’re so busy, but when Himei might die, you unexpectedly show up, right in the nick of time to save her!”
Dusty would’ve continued, had the faint creak of a bed frame from another room not interrupted his outburst. “Himei,” A muffled feminine voice shouts through the thin walls: “Turn down the television; the voices are too loud!”
Sighing, Magnificent Kamen shakes his head. “Not only has Sailor Salvation demonstrated her inability to follow instructions, but you, Dusty, have done much the same. I made it explicitly clear you must not talk when others might hear you.”
“It doesn’t—”
“Silence, animal,” the Kamen commands, blurring his hand as he swipes it across the air. At first, Dusty doesn’t understand, but when he attempts to talk, no words come out. The Kamen, satisfied, says, “Allow me to give a final reminder, as there will be no others. The role of a Sailor is a noble but solitary path. I protect and mentor. You do the same in my absence. That’s all. You do not question. You act.”
The Kamen turns his back from the window, theatrically swinging his cape as he does so. “If you are to live up to your title, Himei, do not forget what I have said tonight. Sailors are courageous and use their powers to protect everything they love; they do not display such… weakness. Redeem yourself.”
And with that, he is gone.
Himei and Dusty are silent, unflinching, nailed in place like stone monuments. While Dusty can stand still, head low but eyes unruffled, Himei quivers worse than before.
He says her name softly, and jumps back onto the futon to face her turned-over body. “Himei, what happened tonight... It wasn’t… It wasn’t your fault, okay? Regardless of what he says, it wasn’t your fault.”
He smiles and lowers his head at the sight of movement beneath her covers.
“You were nervous, weren’t you? And scared too. So much to think and act on, it would make any Sailor feel like what you do right now. Magnificent Kamen can’t understand that. But he will, and soon too, I think.”
Again, more movement, but not a word out of her.
“Are you okay?" He asks in hesitation, his tone stewed in worry. If he listens closely, he can almost hear something being said under the thick sheets. “Hey, at least say something. Please?”
He says this like it’s for her benefit. Like, her confirming she's fine will soothe her worries, but the truth is, he wants her to say she’s fine, so he’ll have no reason to fear what’s become of her.
With a gentle nudge of his paw, the edge of the blanket begins to slide down. Himei’s black hair comes into view first, tangled and damp with sweat. Then, as the fabric slips even further, the harsh reality stabs him like a blade.
A set of two bruises blemish her rosy pink skin, blooming like flowers along her cheek and eye. Her lip is split, with a faint trace of dried blood and bile at their edges. Dusty forgets how to speak, how to emote, how to do anything except look.
All he does is look.
All she does is stare back.
The longer his body hesitates to respond, the less restrained her sobs grow. Her lips, quivering, broken, and cracked are first to act, and he hears what she had been muttering.
“Go away.” She demands with a rasp like she hasn’t slept in days. “Go. Away. Now.”
He could’ve put up a fight; he really could. But after everything, including his argument with Magnificent Kamen, he knows she needs to be alone right now.
Alone with everything.
So, he moves to the corner of her room, sits, and doesn’t say another word for the remainder of the night.
The next day, Dusty was kicked out of her room, the door shut in his face. He had accepted this just as he did the night before. She needed alone time, and that was fine; soon enough she would open back up again.
But by now, it had been three days.
Two days spent waiting by the door, watching it intently, and hoping, praying she would come out and greet him with a smile, a peace sign, anything to keep his fearful thoughts at bay.
On the first day, her mother and father had knocked repeatedly, asking why she had skipped school. That’s when Dusty heard her voice weep from beyond the door. It was weak, raspy, and strained beyond all belief, and the excuse matched that tone.
“I’m sick.”
Of course they bought it, believing her without a shadow of a doubt, and why wouldn’t they? Himei was a good girl, and she would never lie, would she?
The blessing of ignorance.
Sure, her mother had tried to convince Himei to at least come outside and wave her mother goodbye, but with the exhausted authority typical of her, after some silence, she gave up and left for work.
By that time, as both parents left, Dusty had heard the doorknob rattle open and watched Himei slip into the hallway. It was a sight that made him wish he had lived in that same ignorant world her parents did.
They didn't have to see Himei's tears stream down her purple and bruised face, her arm dangling at her side, held by an iron grip. They didn't have to see any of that, but he did.
He asked if she was okay but went ignored. She’d rush inside the bathroom, lock the door, and return to bed once finished. Even late at night, when her parents were asleep, she would rush downstairs, grab a plate of food, and return to her bed, where she would remain the entire night.
On the second day, it was much the same.
He was convinced his mere presence might convince her to take a glance at him. He didn't need anything else; one look would have been enough, but she never did.
He pleaded with himself, trying to convince the feared voice within his head that his words of concern and affection, directed at her alone, would make her say something back. It didn’t matter if she told him to shut up or go away, just something. But she never did.
He prayed her mother's cooking would comfort her enough to smile or do anything else but cry. Since no one could interact with her beyond her room, he couldn’t tell if that was all she did, but he suspected so.
But the mind is a curious thing. It’ll stop at nothing to reassure the host, even if it means persuading itself of the impossible. Dusty nearly persuaded himself that, behind those shut doors, she was secretly smiling when she ate.
He wanted to believe.
But as the second day came to a close and her parents left for their room, Dusty spotted Himei exit her room as she regularly did. With hurried footsteps, he trailed her and down the staircase they went. Of course, Himei was faster, as Dusty’s small body struggled to climb the steps, but still, he pushed on.
Racing halfway down the stairs, bright-eyed with anticipation, he stopped. There she was, pale and shaky, covering her mouth with trembling hands as she stumbled backward, turned around, and ran past him, up the stairs.
He heard the door close shut, and that was the end of it.
She hadn’t even eaten.
Confused, he made his way to the kitchen and leaped onto the table, getting a clear view of the partially cleaned dishes. And there, in the sink, were the remains of curry. Sweet, delicious curry that had been Himei’s favorite meal for years, but now left uneaten.
Himei didn’t eat for the remainder of the night, and for the next hour, loud gags were heard from outside the door until the girl eventually fell asleep.
It was on the third day that Dusty decided to take control of the situation. Her parents, teachers, and classmates might not have been worried, but he was. Her condition hadn’t improved in the slightest, and besides that, three days of missed school scared the cat. Even if Himei, on her own, was able to heal both her emotional and physical wounds within the next week, that left her absences in school piling up.
The homework load would be insane. Group that with her duty as Sailor Salvation and the rest of the week would be even worse than anticipated.
So, once her parents left and Himei rushed into the bathroom, Dusty knocked on the door.
“Himei!” He shouts, “Himei, are you listening in there?”
Again, there was no response.
“…I know you’re not going to answer me. But you’re listening, aren’t you? I... I know this is bad. But you can’t keep living like this. Avoiding school and not getting out... Your parents, despite being the way they are, aren’t going to buy the sickness act for long.”
He lowers his head, leaning it against the door, hoping to hear the sound of approaching footsteps. “You’ve been out of school for three days. Homework is only going to add up. I’m not saying any of this because I want you to stress out about your parents or the homework; I’m saying this because I’m worried about you.”
There’s some movement beyond the door. Footsteps, words, crying—he doesn’t know, but he was getting through to her.
“Himei, when was the last time you went outside to play? Have you read something? Watched anything? Have you been writing at all? Himei, don’t you see? You can’t keep living like this.”
Dusty shuts his eyes, making sure to find the right words. “Sailor Salvation… what is she? Courageous and strong. Sure, she gets hurt. But what does she do? She always gets up. Always keeps living. You’re Sailor Salvation, aren’t you? Getting right up is supposed to be your destiny.”
“N-No…”
He gasps, as for the first time, she responded to him.
“Sailor Salvation is strong. I’m not her. I’m not what you want me to be. I’m weak. Not a hero. I was scared. I was scared because I didn't want to be hurt. But he didn’t listen; he didn’t! He did so much, and he wouldn’t stop! Please, stop! I said that! I said it over and over, and...”
“Himei…”
“He... hurt me. He hurt me, but I told him... I told him…!” Her voice breaks into sobs. “Why are you hurting me?! Why did he do that?! I wanted to be good! I wanted to—I wanted to! WHY?!”
“You are good, Himei. A very good girl. You fought that monster all by yourself, despite being scared. Despite him hurting you. That was a brave thing to do.”
“Evil! Monsters, Dusty, monsters! I hate them; I hate them more than anything in the world! They should die! Never be born! All of them! All of them, go away! Please make them go... go away!”
“You know that if I had the power to, I would. You know I would. I’d do it in a heartbeat, but it’s not possible.” The words sting like poison. But it’s the truth. The razor-sharp, agonizing truth. “I’m sorry…”
What else could he say? He was merely a cat. He didn’t fight monsters. He didn’t get hurt. He didn’t know what it felt like to be in the middle of a war, to feel the weight of dread pressing down on you, alone with your thoughts, and a monster that desired your death.
He was only a cat.
One who wants nothing more than to see his owner again.
“Can you please just... open the door? Come out for me? I want to see you.”
“No! I’m… I’m ugly… He made me ugly.”
“Whatever you look like, I promise, I won’t judge.” He tries to smile as best he can, to be as comforting as he can be, but in truth, he’s scared too. Scared not by how she’ll look, but by something else.
Something far worse.
These Yamiko, the attacks won’t stop. If they hurt her this badly next time, what’ll happen?
What will happen if it’s worse?
He tries his best not to think about it and remain in the present. “I promise I’ll never be grossed out by you, regardless of whatever you look like. From now to forever.”
“…promise?”
“Didn’t I promise? Of course! I’m not just a regular cat, remember? I’m your magical guardian! I would never see you any other way than as a pretty magical little girl.”
There’s approaching footsteps moving towards the door, and a small click. With it, the door creaks open, with Himei holding her arm and staring at the feline with the best smile she can muster.
The lip split had healed, and the bruising on her eye had decreased significantly, albeit with a tinge of yellowish brown lingering on the outer edges. Still, her arm was sore. But she looked better.
A lot better.
Even if she had looked worse, the fact that Himei now stands before him was enough to make the cat return her smile with matching energy.
“You look great, Himei. A bit of bruising on your eye and a reddish cheek... Your arm must still hurt too, but like your other battle wounds, it’s already healing. Nothing will scar, okay?”
A genuine smile forms from the girl's cracked lips, and she leans against the wall, steady and giggling. She’s going to be okay, and everything is going to be all right.
“I should ask this, though. You’ve already missed plenty of school by this point, so going now seems like a waste. Do you have any plans for today? Something fun to do?”
She shakes her head and rubs her injured arm a bit. It still stings, but rubbing it seems to soothe the pain to a tolerable degree. Besides, maybe the pain will help her focus for once. “I was going to nap a little bit more.”
“You’re tired?! That doesn’t sound like you at all…”
“I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“O-Oh, yeah. Makes sense.” He wants to slap himself in the face for being such an idiot. After everything she has gone through, of course, she hasn’t been able to fall asleep for long.
“Maybe I’ll go to the library and get a new book, though. There was one I saw that was really cute. It was so colorful too; I wanted to read it.”
“That does sound like fun. But do you want me to come with you? You’re still a bit—“
Before he can finish, Himei opens her mouth, but it’s not to speak. No, it’s to scream. Her expression contorts, lips twisting and eyelids spasming as she clutches her skull, sinking to the floor.
She doesn’t need to be told what’s happening. She’s already felt this pain many times before, and from the somber look on Dusty, she knows he’s come to the same conclusion too. An evil presence, creeping ever closer and pulling her towards it.
Toward her eventual battle.
Her pendant shines bright, yet oddly, a fragment in the middle refuses to, dimming to a deathly jet black. Dusty steps closer, his voice rising to a shout, “Himei, focus! Breathe, okay? Breathe!”
She’s slipping, her vision unfocused with terror overhead, acting like a storm cloud, ravenous and ready to devour her fragile spirit. “I... I… I can’t—“ Her voice cracks, desperate and panicked. “N-No, I... why, why now?!”
“Himei, hey, listen to me! Calm down! Breathe for a minute.”
“I can’t! No, no, no!”
“Yes, you can,” he encourages, eyes locked with hers. “Try once. One deep breath, even if your throat feels tight and your nose is blocked. Just try, please, do it for me.”
She hesitates, then lurches forward as she attempts to breathe. It’s more of a gag than a breath, but the sound of it, struggling yet persistent, is a great sign. Gradually the slit of black reverses to white, regaining its luster.
“Magnificent Kamen is going to handle this one, all right? You’ll stay here, relax, and watch television.”
“But what about... what he said? About... me not being strong enough, needing to be better?” Tears well up in her eyes again. “I can't... I can't do it again. He wants me to be stronger. It’s my... my destiny.”
“So what?! No sane man would send you out again so soon. Especially not when you’re like this.” He rests a paw on her thigh, his tone softening as he holds her attention. “Look at yourself, Himei. You’re shaking, you’re crying, you’re hurt, and clearly terrified.”
“N-No… No, I’m—“
“Yes, you are! Going into this fight, you’ll be even worse off than before. You won’t prove anything and you won’t get stronger. You’ll just hurt yourself. Let Magnificent Kamen handle this on his own. He’ll be fine.”
“What if he isn’t? What if... he’s not strong enough?”
“And you are?!”
“I’m s-strong! I… I… am, I know it…” She tries to smile again but it’s weak, hollow and nearing the verge of collapse. “Even if I’m scared, even if I don’t want to, I have to fight. Over, and over, and over, so I can stop them…”
“Enough; I’ve heard enough! I won’t let you get hurt like this again.”
Himei lowers her head while her hand grips her arm in a desperate bid for control. Squeezing it incites a sharp wail of pain, but she doesn’t release it. Dusty tries to pull her hand away, but his small paws are no match for her grip.
“What are you doing?!”
“It hurts…” she says through clenched teeth. “It hurts, b-but I’m not crying. I’m not afraid…” Her voice rises as she confronts Dusty face-to-face. “I’m not afraid! I’m not scared; I’m strong! I… I have to be!”
“…”
“I have to be this, but good, regular people, they shouldn’t have to be scared of being punched. What if Magnificent Kamen gets hurt because I didn’t help? If he doesn’t stop them, who's next? The Yamiko could hurt someone right now. He could hurt Mommy, Daddy, and you, Dusty.”
Tears cloud her vision, but she squints her eyes. Her words turn frantic and tumble over each other as she fights to keep the waterworks at bay. “Kicks to their faces, punches to their belly, over, and over, and over—I don’t want that! I don’t want anyone to be hurt like that.”
“What does that mean for you then?!” Dusty retaliates, “Are you fine being the only one who has to go through that? Do you want to be kicked in the face, punched in the stomach, and beaten to a pulp?!”
“No…”
“Then why?!”
“Because… Because Sailors fight in the darkness, so others can live in the light.” She repeats, “I don’t want anyone to know what it’s like to be hurt. They don’t deserve it. Nobody does.”
“Himei, stop—“
“The girl at the movie theater, with all those bruises,” Himei removes her hand, revealing her own to Dusty. “I know what it’s like. I know why it hurts so bad. I know why I have to fight and why Urui kept crying, even after the monster was gone.”
“Himei, I said stop—“
“The tears don’t stop, even after the monster is gone! It still hurts. It hurts so bad, and... I won’t let it happen again! I have to do something! I’ve seen it... I’ve seen the dark; I can bring them to the—”
“You haven’t seen anything!” Dusty screams, surprising even Himei, who jerks her head away. “Damn it, you... you haven’t seen anything! What you went through, the injuries you sustained, Himei, they’re minor. These Yamiko carry bats and knives. Dear God, what if one of them gets a gun?”
“Then—”
“Do you want to get shot in the head, Himei? Is that what you want? Because it might happen if you step back out into that fight.” It’s now Dusty’s turn to shed some tears. “What’ll happen if your family, the Kamen, or even I find you like that one day? How will you save us from seeing that?”
“…”
“I’ve been lying to myself, pretending everything is fine. Thinking you can handle it; it’s your destiny, right? The Kamen will be there, won’t he?! Well, no! This isn’t some cartoon; it’s real life! There aren't magical shields to block attacks; there isn’t an eternal garden; this is war! Real combat, where you live, or die!”
“Good people can die too!”
Without thinking, that was the first thing that she said, without an ounce of hesitation.
“If I don’t go, wh-what happens to everyone else? People are in danger, and I was chosen to help. Why was I picked if I can’t do it?” Himei lowers her head. “I won’t be hurt if I get better. I can make the Kamen proud, and I’ll be okay, and everyone will live, and…”
Her words are brought to an end when a paw is placed on her quivering hand. Snapping from her rant, she finds Dusty not with an expression of anger but a profound sadness.
“I can’t live with the possibility of finding you dead in an alleyway, all alone, Himei... I just...” He brushes his tears away, drawing a shaky breath. “If Magnificent Kamen won’t go with you, I will. I’m… I’m a coward, and I’m willing to admit I’m scared. But still, I can’t let you go alone.”
The air in the room is heavy after that. The weight of their earlier argument, mixed with his bold declaration, it all lingers about. The walls close around them, broken only by their breathing.
Seconds pass until Himei agrees and rises back to her feet. Her legs tremble beneath her, and she sways slightly; the headache remains, of course, and yet it’s not as painful as before. She can push through this, she has to.
She’s across the room, grabbing her jacket with trembling fingers when Dusty speaks again.
“Promise me one thing, though.”
Himei stops and turns her attention back to him.
“Promise me that after the fighting is done and the world is saved, even if the peace only lasts for an hour, a day, a week, or a month, it doesn’t matter. Promise me, you’ll make that time count. Between these battles, keep writing, go to the movies, watch cartoons, read manga, and please, keep buying plushies. I know that they make you happy. I want you to promise me you’ll keep being the same little girl I’m looking at now.”
She appears frozen, unmoving, and unwavering, but the gears in her head turn. Thinking of so many things and hesitant to turn back to Dusty.
“I promise.”
Together, they head outside the open door of the Himei residence.
Grass sways from left to right by harsh waves of wind. A flurry of snowflakes join the dance, rising high into the air and down the road, only to collide with the fragile girl who dares to race in the opposite direction. She swats them aside and into the face of a feline who had the misfortune of running beside her.
“Could you... slow down? Least a bit?! You’re still not—”
Before he can finish, the girl speeds away, whimpering at his weak protests for her to come back. For once, Dusty is putting in the effort, trying his hardest to match her pace with his short legs. One foot forward, then another, belining it down the road with a rush of energy, yet he still can’t match her speed.
Himei, who holds her arm in place, runs faster and faster. As long as she’s fast and strong, it’ll be okay. More resilient, and nothing will make her cry. Become disciplined, and nothing will hurt her.
Although she’ll never admit it to Dusty, the Kamen, her family, or even herself, she knows how much of a lie that truly is. She knows, somewhere deep in there, that after all of this is said and done, she’ll never be the same.
And it’s that thought which propels her further, running in the hopes that the adrenaline will wash away the thought.
Dusty, meanwhile, is panting as he reaches a paw out for her. Again, he begs her to slow down as the snow picks up, blurring the girl from view. He catches one more glimpse as she turns to face him.
Tears have again claimed her cheeks, and she's smiling. It’s a low, desperate smile, like a mockery of the ones that came before—the ones she gave just as the duty of Sailor Salvation had been bestowed upon her.
But once he’s seen her weakness, she turns away and runs further into the snow blanket, disappearing from view. Greedful as he is, he demands more. Another glimpse, another snapshot—this one before everything. When she held Dusty in her hands for the first time—on her eleventh birthday—and magical girls had only ever been fiction.
There’s a hope that maybe, within his memory, he can hold onto that image of that little girl for a bit longer. He can close his eyes and see her, his little girl, just a little longer.
As if trying to hold onto that fleeting, twinkle-toothed grin before it is crushed to nothingness and rendered eternally snuffed out, he begs.
Just a little longer.
…
…
…
The moon looms alone in the dreary night sky, with no star or cloud in sight.
The moonlight pools in through a single window, casting an oppressive shadow across the entire space, from the walls in the corner to the floor; it ends at the face of a once slumbering white cat. There’s a minute of stirs, its ears flicking to alertness before he finally opens his eyes.
With a yawn, he arches his back into a U-shaped curve, cracking his spine back into place. It's never the most comfortable, but by now he's grown accustomed to sleeping on the floor. Admittedly, there’s a reason he’s here, and he knows why he must on nights like this.
After a Yamiko attack, his owner is never in the best spirits.
Gradually, he has learned to give her space and keep his distance after a fight. Her tone and facial expression make it clear whether she wants to converse or be left alone, and tonight had been the latter.
He would have gone back to bed if the sounds of groans, muttering, and stilled gasps had not spiked his fur like quills. He follows the sound until his eyes land on a cot in the center of the room.
Under the thick winter blankets, a figure stirs.
He approaches the cot and, with an effortless leap, lands on top of it, peering down at the source.
Himei.
She hadn't even bothered to change out of her school uniform before passing out.
The television hums with a rerun of Sailor Rose Wand, the previous installment to the new, “Magical Princess Sailor Rose Wand” season, and illuminates her wrist, taped with duct tape. It’s an odd fashion statement, some may say, but in truth, it’s a pathetic attempt to lessen the pain of a sprained wrist. Not that anyone would know this, of course.
Besides, a simple taped wrist, may it be odd, is not a detail someone would notice at first glance.
No, their attention would be drawn to the black bruising around her eye, which is still increasing in severity. It's unflattering. Makes her feel like damaged goods too, but it isn’t the worst injury she’s suffered; only the most visible.
If she had changed into her pajama shorts before collapsing into bed, the marred scars across her body, some long and jagged, others short and clean, would have come into view. Many are faded, but some, particularly the shallower ones along her wrists, are fresh.
This is all to say; she's gone through worse.
Much worse.
Dusty settles beside her and eyes the plushie she is clinging to.
It’s a cat, or at least it used to be before it was matted and frayed beyond belief; its once black coat having faded to a patchy gray. Despite its poor state, Himei clings to it with tortuous desperation.
Her lips are parted, breathing uneven, and her skin clammy. Dusty looks into the plushie's clouded plastic eyes, long enough to watch his lower lip biting mirrored back at him.
She quivers in her rest one final time before he can’t ignore it any longer. With a huff, he raises his paw and swats the doll out of her grasp. With a dull thud, the black cat tumbles off the cot and to the ground, slumped in silent resignation.
He gives a final look at the sorry thing; it’s dead-glint eyes; he can’t help but draw parallels.
It isn’t soon after that he climbs into Himei’s arms.
She stirs for a moment.
As quickly as her arms had tensed around him and her breath hitched, they loosen, and her breathing settles. Her hands, one taped and wounded, the other trembling, cradle him close, begging him to never leave, and he wouldn’t dare.
Nestled as close to her as he can, the murmurs don’t entirely disappear; they’ve quieted down, and that’s enough.
She’s safe; she knows; she’s safe right here.
For tonight, she wasn’t alone, and neither was he. The pain that normally fills the room doesn’t seem so overwhelming now.
Amongst her ever-growing collection of plushies, stacked in piles on shelves, the windowsill, and the floor, it all melts into the background.
The door, where a drawing had been torn away, leaving jagged edges of tape behind, dissolves into the void.
And the standard white calendar pinned beside her desk, runny red slashes with messy penmanship, is nothing more than a blur for tonight.
None of it matters.
Dusty looks at her face, softened in sleep, and allows himself the faintest of smiles.
“I love you, Himei.”
His words are raw, deep, and powerful, and somewhere, deep within the nightmare, she can hear him, and she believes it.
Dusty brushes away the tears that have escaped her eyes, and it’s more tears than she’s ever shed in her sixteen years on this earth. But even so, a smile comes to her. These aren’t tears of sadness; no, they’re tears of joy.
“Thank you, Sailor Rose Wand! The world couldn’t have been saved without you!” The television echoes in the room. "Please don’t thank me. Thank yourself for having such a kind heart and never submitting to the dark arts of that monster. As long as you keep yourself pure of heart, you’ll be as much of a hero as I am.”
The forever jet-black necklace on the television antenna, a black hole made tangible, pulls the cat's sight towards it, almost mocking him. It radiates a cold, ruthless emptiness, and on nights like this, would hurt, so very much.
But even it fades into nothingness as sleep takes the sight away.
For the remainder of the night, Himei Shoutan isn’t Sailor Salvation, or Sailor Nothing, but an everyday schoolgirl who made a habit out of staying up late and happened to be suffering from a night terror.
She had bruises and scars, but they were brought on by her typical ditzy nature, nothing more. Her cat was just that, your run-of-the-mill housecat, albeit with quite the sassy personality.
Other than that, she could blend into a crowd of a million.
Tonight, it was just a smiling little girl and her lucky pet cat cuddling together, and though this peace, this lie,may only have been fleeting—
—it was all the two had ever wanted.
lonelyghosts Wed 09 Apr 2025 05:16PM UTC
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