Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Sovereign of the Spirit ❯ The Child that Revolted against the Stars ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

So I decided to try my hand at a Sailor Moon fandom cliché. For those of you unfamiliar with the term `Otaku Senshi,' it's basically where a fan author or artist creates their own Senshi and drops them in the Sailor Moon universe.
Thus I asked my good friend and wonderful artist, Setsu-P, if she had any lying about and so we have the premise of this story. Most of the characters were originally conceived and drawn by Setsu-P, who has I given me her enthusiastic expressed permission to write the story of her Otaku Senshi.
For art and extensive background on all the major players in this story please check it out:
Comments&Critiques are very welcome. Remember it's your comments that keep me coming back with more.
Now, I'd like to dedicate this to all the infamous Otaku Senshi writers, most especially the one who spurred me.
Terry Ladan, eat your heart out.
Sovereign of the Spirit
Writer: Bastion
Editor: Setsu-P

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Chapter 1: The Child that Revolted against the Stars
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"Do you believe wishes come true, Miss Meiou?"

Across the table, his companion stared at her wine glass and stated flippantly,

Her associate grinned. "Come on, Miss Meiou, you can't be that devoid of romance."

Swirling her glass, the woman raised her scarlet eyes from the twisting crimson of her drink. These business meals usually deteriorated into philosophical debates after a dose or two of
alcohol. "Surprisingly, time has not permitted me the opportunity to ponder whether or not I am."

The man's laugh hummed smoothly within their booth as he ruffled his blonde hair with one effeminate hand. Only its echoes from the window revealed the embarrassment hidden within.

"I'm sorry, Miss Meiou, I had no idea running this corporation was that tedious. I know getting designers to commit and even getting the models to wear the clothes they make are a task in and of themselves."

The woman tossed her long green hair over her shoulder, taking a moment to look out the window of the restaurant. The clear night sky could be seen unadulterated by the tall, cold
structures that populated Tokyo. Studying the alignment of the stars, she noted their formation. It was almost time. The stars had never failed her with their prophecies.

"I mean, every once in awhile, when you're awake in bed, you wonder about such things? Surely then, you have time to think, Miss Meiou?"

"Sometimes I have." The night sky pervaded her memories of the times in darkness. Sometimes it was all she had when she wasn't in the real world. She stared at her reflection. Her own face
seemed to be engulfed in the darkness of her deep green hair and black dress. "I wonder sometimes if I am nothing more than a shadow. Just a faceless, minuscule component of the universe."

Reaching across the table, the blonde man gently squeezed her hand. "Don't be depressed, Setsuna. You're not insignificant."

She slid her hand away from her companion's and held her wine glass between their faces. "I am very insignificant in the workings of the universe."

He retreated back into his chair. "So what, enjoy life for what it is, then. Screw the universe!"

"I'm afraid I can't. As long as I have a duty to fulfill, I cannot turn my back on my responsibilities."

The blonde man was once again ruffling his curly hair when a flash in the sky outside caught his attention. "It's a shooting star." He paused a moment before wistfully adding, "I take it you won't
be making a wish?"

Setsuna gazed at the streak as it vanished toward the sea on the horizon, its brightness seeming to defy the traditional glow of any typical shooting star. The stars never prophesied incorrectly;
one of their own had finally revolted. It had begun. The poor child had arrived to receive her ill-fated destiny.

"No." Resting her chin on her hand, she continued her leisurely regard of the cold world outside the window. "I'll be praying."

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The dream always started out the same.
She would be kneeling next to a dry lake, trying to fill it with her tears. Dirt tarnished her creamy emerald dress and the air smelled of blood. Cities in the distance crumbled and burned. She heard no screaming; only the wind would speak to her.

Then the man in deep green cloak appeared. He held a gnarled staff adorned with a living heart, from which light would flash like blood with every beat. He nodded to her and offered her his hand. She would always shake away her tears and take it.

They flew high into sparse, icy clouds until a door emerged before them. The cloaked stranger obliged her and opened it, inviting her through. Many smiling faces received her on the other side. A celebration was in full swing with lots of cheering and toasts in her honor, but the glowing faces
seldom changed in the darkness of the boundless room and the cheers sounded muffled in her ears. One merry pale-faced individual threw a crown on her head that threatened to slip into her eyes. Another thrust a party favor resembling a scepter into her hand.

"What's happening?" She'd say while she wrung the soiled hem of her dress.

From the dense mass of bodies, hands would latch onto her. They would pull and tug on her dress, ripping at her skirts and then her girdle. She always fought to keep her chemise on, refusing to have that last shred of dignity stripped from her. Just when she felt it begin to tear away, she screamed.

Without warning, her scream would silence the sounds and the crowd would part, clearing a path to a large round table. As she neared the table, a light at the other end would slowly intensify, the figures flanking it obscured in the glare. She would finally reach the table and would try in vain to shade her eyes from the blinding brilliance.


"But what did I-" She would protest.

"YOUR RESISTANCE TO OUR QUESTIONS IS EVIDENCE ENOUGH OF YOUR TREACHERY!" All the faceless figures nodded in approval, and the light exploded, throwing her across the hall to slam into the door.

She could feel ice crawling up her legs. Desperately, her eyes would search out the cloaked stranger who had so benevolently brought her to this. Always he would stand by and watch her as the icy fingers inexorably crept further up her body. When whimpering and pleading failed to coax him into action, she would always resort to screaming insults at him.

And she would always wake up when the ice reached into her open mouth and down her throat.

She took another sip of her herbal tea and tried to decipher the meaning of these dreams. It had become a bit of a pastime since she'd been pulled from Tokyo Harbor one cold autumn night, with no recollection of how she got there or where she'd been previously.

The authorities had told her she matched the description of a missing person named Isisu Saito, but they had very little record of her existence, except for the name of one surviving family member in Tokyo. This relative, Setsuna Meiou, would only tell her that they had only just met before the disappearance which Isisu herself didn't even remember.

This all disappointed her somewhat. Without any memories, she felt like an empty vessel, though if they never returned, she could always get new ones. There were new memories each day when she awoke. But these dreams would always haunt her, teasing her about a past she couldn't remember.

Isisu took another sip of her tea and gazed out of the window of the cafe. A sea of pale faces greeted her from the street as people shuffled their way down the narrow sidewalk. Tired faces, happy faces, old, young; all of them different and yet appearing to her as one solid, nameless mass of humanity, in which she herself stood out, if only because of her darker skin. It occurred to her suddenly that her tanned skin made her feel more like a shadow when she moved through the crowds in Tokyo than anything else.
“Something easily forgotten,” she murmured.

Suddenly a particular pale face framed in golden curls poked out from the crowd and smiled at her. For a moment, the familiar face disappeared into the mass, and then those curls reappeared through the door of the cafe.

"Hi-hi, Isisu." The new arrival chirped brightly, one thin porcelain hand emerging from a soft black shirtsleeve to wave to her. "How's my fashion model doing today?"

Isisu set her cup down, contemplated a moment, and spoke. "I woke up this morning and bathed, then put on the clothes next to the dresser I had laid out the night before-"

"What I mean is, Isisu," the blond smiled, "did you make it to the photo shoot with Ms. Itabashi Saki okay?"

Isisu blinked. "Yes, I met with Ms. Saki at the appointed time and did the shoot."

"That's good." Her friend winked before stopping a waitress to order himself some coffee. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

"Not too long." She drew out the last of her sentence as she glanced again towards the crowd outside, and then over at her companion, who was now tapping his fingers on the table and eyeing her expectantly. "Is there something troubling you, Ken?"

Ken grinned and poked his hand out of his sleeve once again to run it through his blond curls. "Oh, nothing. Just, um, how's Miss Meiou?"

"I do not know." Isisu tilted her head. "I have had very little contact with my cousin since she left me in your charge."

Internally grimacing, the blond remembered his last fateful meeting with his employer. She had told him, with great severity, that he was responsible for getting Isisu modeling jobs. *Tasteful* ones, she had warned. From the few times he had had the pleasure of speaking with the mysterious Miss Meiou, he knew that when she made a request, they were done within a heartbeat. Ideally, they would already have been done.

"Er, well, I was just wondering."

Ken gazed at the pale-haired woman seated across from him. Unfortunately, Isisu presented several obstacles. First, though she fit the model figure to near perfection - thin, tall, and very leggy - she was very tan, which made it hard to get a tasteful modeling job for her in Japan. He'd tried on several occasions to pass her off as Indian, pointing out the gold bindi she always sported, but nobody seemed to buy his excuses. Then there were her eyes. It was creepy until you got used to it, Ken thought to himself, the way that level stare of hers seemed so blank, but you knew she was watching you. Isisu had told him that she had some condition that made her pupils appear as pale as the irises. Combined with her aloof nature, it made talking to her all that much more difficult, which made his job that much harder. If a model could freak out the clients as she was, no amount of airbrushing could help her to the cover of a magazine.

Isisu took another sip of her tea as Ken looked at those downcast, misty red eyes. Fortunately, most of these problems were taken care of easily enough. With a few pair of contact lenses and a
little Meiou Corporation clout, he'd managed to get enough respectable jobs to help the poor girl get back on her feet. In fact, that distant personality of hers made her very popular with the photographers, since she complained little, if at all. However, finding *respectable* jobs for Isisu still took considerable effort.

It amazed him how striking the strong family resemblance was between Miss Meiou and Isisu. Musing further, Ken thought they could be mistaken for twins - in a purely photonegative sense,
of course.

Isisu once again raised her cup and Ken observed her very purposeful movements. `It's like a ritual with her,' he thought, `the formal grasp on the teacup and those calculated sips.'

"Ya know," Ken fanned his fingers at Isisu, "you drink your tea just like Miss Meiou does."

Before Isisu could put her cup down to adequately reply, Ken continued, brimming with excitement at his new discovery. "Maybe it's a side effect to your amnesia. Maybe you're trying to
emulate Miss Meiou, since she's so close to you."

Ken's mind began to reel. She could be easily molded into the next Setsuna Meiou. Maybe Miss Meiou was grooming Isisu to run the Meiou Corporation. The seed of endless possibilities for
Isisu grew in Ken's mind. So ... fascinating.

A coffee cup landed in front of him, breaking his train of thought. Blinking, Ken nodded and thanked the bowing waitress.

"But I have never seen Setsuna drink her tea before. I have only met her on three occasions. The first time was when I was introduced to you at her office, and I do not remember Setsuna drinking anything that day, though she did have a cup on her desk. The second time we were to discuss my living arrangements. She had offered for me to live with her, but I turned her down, told her I was going to live in my own apartment, and she-"

"Okay, Isisu." Ken shook both hands loose from his sleeves to rub his temples. "I get the point."

His eyes zeroed in on the face of the watch that clung loosely to his wrist by thin leather straps. "Whoa, I had no idea it was that late," Ken flung his coffee cup to his mouth, finishing it in one swig before continuing, "I have an appointment early tomorrow morning."

Ken jettisoned himself from the booth while his tall, tanned partner calmly set down her cup and lifted herself from her seat. "Do you want me to accompany back to your apartment?"

"Er," Ken's cheeks began to warm. `What brought this on?' he wondered. Was it the new cologne? "I suppose. My apartment's a bit of a mess though, if you don't mind."

The woman's long, pale hair swayed as she tilted her head, looking at her blond friend curiously. "Why would I be inside your apartment?"

Ken slouched forward and his loose black shirt billowed outwards, making him look like he'd just eaten his fill of crow, which was incidentally exactly how he felt. Without another word, Ken placed a few yen on their table before proceeding out to the street.

As he held the door for Isisu and then followed her out onto the sidewalk, Ken looked back over his shoulder at Ben's Cafe. The place had a very ambient atmosphere and American style, “a New York flavor”, one person had told him. Heck, they even hosted little mini English lessons every so often.

He could escape here. Every time he entered these doors he wasn't in the crowded and busy Tokyo crammed in subway cars with total strangers. When he was in that cafe, he was free and could spread his wings out and soar to places like the United States or even France. Hell, all of Europe. But his fantasy would always end when he returned to these crowded streets.

Ken glanced over at the pale-haired woman walking beside him with deliberate steps. Isisu didn't seem to share the same kind of enthusiasm he had hoped for when he'd first suggested Ben's as a meeting place. He had hoped she would feel the same kind of longing to just get away from this damn city, but she'd just shrugged as though it didn't matter one way or the other. Ken chalked up his disappointment to being naive.

The blond slouched even more; lips pursed, and glanced again at Isisu. Keeping her steps in time with an unheard beat, she stared straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular. She didn't even seem to take notice of Ken's now open stare. Ken turned his head forward again and his eyes glazed over, gazing off into the distance.

Both traveled in silence for several blocks until they reached Ken's apartment building. As Ken approached the entrance, he noticed Isisu had stopped.

"What is it, Isisu?" Ken could barely make her out in the waning sunlight. Only her hair stood out, and her dark skin and brown dress suit seemed to fade into the darkness.

"Would you like me to escort you to your apartment?" Isisu stiffly motioned her hand towards the entrance.

Ken sighed to himself. "If you want to. It's fine by me."

"Very well." Isisu nodded in affirmation and followed Ken inside.

Ken's mind reeled. What was Isisu trying to pull here? Had he managed to melt that frigid façade? `…Is she a fox in bed?' Ken shook his head, trying to rattle those thoughts out. No, no, no. Hardly. He could only see Isisu as an acquaintance. Besides that, what would Miss Meiou do to him?

Despite all this, Ken's cheeks grew hotter and hotter. His kettle was just about to whistle when they reached his apartment. With a shaking hand, Ken whipped out his keys and unlocked the door.

Ken stood at the threshold and slowly brought his eyes up towards Isisu's, hoping to read what her next move would be. Then he waited.

Finally, Ken slapped his thighs to break the silence.

Isisu just tilted her head once again and returned Ken's stare.

Immediately, Ken looked down at his fingers, clasped together in front of his waist. "Er, thanks. For keeping me company."

"I am glad to have fulfilled your request."

Ken tried his best to hide the shy smile coming across his reddened cheeks. "Heh. Well, ya know, er, I was, uh," he stammered, "wondering if you wouldn't mind, um, joining me..."

His voice trailed off as he became acutely aware of Isisu's absence. "Er.."

Feeling the burden of yet another lost opportunity, Ken leaned his heavy head against the door...


Without realizing he had just opened it.

"Ahhh, hell." He grumbled.


'What a dull place', she thought. Tall buildings with flat, boring faces; even the waning sunlight with its dazzling mixes of red and orange couldn't bring some fleeting personality to them. And the glittery signs that clung to their sides, competing for her attention, also failed to impress her with their flaming messages.
Just mere illusions, they all were.

These buildings tried so blatantly to belittle her. She sniffed indignantly. Only the monolithic Cathedral back home, with its smooth black surface, achieved a greater level of intimidation. Yet these giants were not only cold, but also unfeeling.

An incredible urge overcame her to topple them over, in defiance of their arrogance. To show those unfeeling structures pain. She scowled and wrapped her cloak tighter across her body to conceal the fuku underneath. She knew when she came here she faced long odds. She may be out-numbered, but she craved the thrill of the battle. Actually, the possibility of being welcomed by some brave fool the moment she arrived filled her with excitement.

However, no brave fool came. In fact, the entire time she had been here she hadn't any kind of resistance, leaving her craving for chaos unsatisfied.

She loved the destruction and chaos of battle, and her craving for it was boundless. The satisfaction she gleaned from the smell of burning flesh and the screams of the suffering was only all too brief. That alone had probably made her ideal for this mission - to find this Sovereign Seth desired so much.

Not even Sailor Hermes dared to challenge her for it, though she wouldn't hesitate one moment to kill her just to improve her standing with Seth. Nothing new there.

Her eyes darted from one cheery face to another. These people offered her no challenge. Any of them could be the Sovereign of the Spirit. In fact, she didn't even have slightest clue what the wench looked like. She continued to walk alongside a paved road crammed with motor vehicles whining to be free of their concrete trap.

Everything was so organized. Lights turned green, klaxons sounded at regular intervals; the people moved, herding themselves according to the commands of various machines. She wanted to scream as an unbearable tingling spread all over her body.

'This is what happens when there is no strife.' Her demeanor grew darker. 'Everyone takes for granted the value of their own individualism. They don't have to struggle, to scrape out an existence day in and day out.'

None of these people knew what tragedy was like. None of them had that certain fire within themselves, like those of Canyon's Edge.

Then her scowl slowly creased upwards. Perhaps she should give them a dose. Besides, how was she supposed to get the Sovereign's attention if she didn't stir things up a little?

Maneuvering through the crowded streets, she came to a fancy-looking tavern. Yes, this would be a great place to start. She loosened her cloak and proceeded inside.

A conservatively-dressed auburn-haired barmaid greeted her. "Hi hi! Welcome to Ben's Cafe. May I help you?"

Smiling politely, the woman pulled her jet-black hair behind her ear and replied, "Yes, you may."

Her smile vanished and she lashed out at the barmaid, grabbing a handful of her brown hair. She yanked the young girl's head back and growled at her. "You can scream for me."

Dragging the girl with her, the woman paced around the front of the cafe to address her captive audience. "As for the rest of you-"

Before she could finish, a hand gripped her wrist and squeezed, trying to make her relinquish the handful of hair. "That's enough, miss."

The dark-haired angel of death twisted her head. `Finally a brave soul', she snorted to herself. "I'm just getting started; however, I think you've had enough."

With the swift reply of a fist to the man's abdomen, she jarred his grip loose and sent him flying. The craving subsided, but she needed more. A lot more.

Turning, she sized up her challenger. She quickly realized the fool hadn't bothered to wear any armor; he instead wore the same flimsy outfit as the whimpering barmaid. Even tied his long
hair in a ponytail like the barmaid's. She'd never known men of such light masculinity to be this brave.

However, her musings would have to wait until after she'd turned this group of disbelievers into martyrs. "As I was saying, the rest of you will learn a lesson about pain."

The dark-haired woman paced in front of her congregation with the barmaid close behind, yelping every time the handful of hair tethering her to her captor was pulled.




Jerk.< br>
"And suffering."

She turned once again toward her brave fool, who was just now getting back to his feet. He froze as her sights zeroed in on him. "A lesson that I shall teach to each of you personally."

His limbs stiffened and his mouth went dry when she leveled her finger at him. "And you shall be my first pupil."

"STRAFE SPEAR!" Suddenly, a narrow stream of fire blazed forth from her fingertip. The flames roared and snaked around the cafe, scorching a path toward their prey.

The doomed man's instincts finally went to flight and he bolted for the exit. Unfortunately, the flame's tenacious pursuit could not be evaded as it twisted wildly after its victim. Eventually, the panic-driven speed of the waiter's legs could no longer outrun the streaking flame.

The resulting impact hurled the man through the tavern's glass window and into the packed crowd on the sidewalk outside. The woman smiled to herself as the melodic screams rose into the air, momentarily mesmerized by the glow of the burning corpse. The sparkle of the flame was much more satisfying than those flashing signs outside. She would have to show them all the beauty of a true inferno.

The woman then waved her finger around the cafe, enveloping it in the cleansing flames. The patrons' shocked paralysis finally broke; people made mad dashes for their lives. The woman, now baring her teeth in a ferocious, mad smile, obliged most of them with a fiery good-bye. She drew a deep breath as the last of her victims fell, and basked in the luminance. The smoke, the intense heat, the smell of burning flesh, and the sparkling embers of the cafe excited her senses. Exhilarating, to say the least. The reds, yellows, and oranges of the flames twined all around her in an unparalleled ballet of destruction.

Soft sobs interrupted her reverie, reminding her of the barmaid still in her clutches. The woman looked down at the girl kneeling next to her, covering her face and crying. With a hearty tug she leaned in close and whispered in the girl's ear.

"And you, my fine pupil," the woman's silhouetted smile contorted in the chaotic flickering of the flames, "have learned the last lesson."

As pieces of the roof fell around them, the woman pulled the barmaid to her feet, her whispers barely audible over the roaring fires. "You have learned of the horror of witnessing the deaths of others, some of whom were probably your friends, or perhaps would have been, in time. But never forget what you've seen today, and remember that peace is but an illusion. Chaos will always have its due."

The barmaid's lips quivered and tears streamed from her brown eyes while the woman removed some of her black hair from her own face and placed her finger almost gently on the girl's temple. "On second thought, maybe you should just take that lesson with you into the afterlife."

The woman watched the girl closing her eyes; perhaps praying silently. She remembered she too had done the same, long ago and under the same circumstances, but she had learned then that it was a futile practice.

"Good-bye." She prepared to put the girl out of her misery.

Suddenly, she found herself staring at the end of a staff encasing a glowing red orb. The dark-haired woman tilted her head upwards to meet the scarlet eyes of the staff's owner.

The stranger spoke evenly, fixing the other with a stern expression. "All things will end, but not today."

Lowering her hand from the girl's temple and letting go of her hair, the woman smirked, not breaking eye contact with her new opponent. "Perhaps Chaos will have to wait another day for you, child."

Scrabbling backwards, the girl looked between them for a moment and then scurried out of sight. The two remained still while the cafe crumbled around them.

The woman quickly assessed her new rival, immediately taking notice of the stranger's white bodice and black bow, as well as her golden tiara. The stranger's long locks embraced her body
like a cloak and glowed in the fire's light with a strange green sheen.

"You must be one of the Sailor Senshi." The woman motioned to the stranger's outfit, and then to the staff still pointed at her chin. "And more than likely you're the Time Guardian, Sailor Pluto. It's nice to finally have a worthy challenger; these people could hardly keep me amused."

"Who are you and what business do you have here, Dark Senshi?" Pluto's dry tone doused the other's fervor.

The woman backed away in surprise from the taller Senshi.

"Ah, I see you know of us." She reached inside her cloak, continuing to back away from the staff. "But I'm not ready to properly introduce myself yet."

When Sailor Pluto attempted to follow, the woman threw her arms into the air.


A wall of flames surrounded her and exploded outwards, sending Sailor Pluto and the remains of the cafe flying. Landing on her feet a short distance away, the Time Guardian readied herself against her combatant now emerging from the smoldering rubble.

"I am the Goddess of War and an angel of death. I bring suffering and strife." A tarnished silver mask hid her face, the exaggerated features of a wolf revealed grotesquely in the flickering light of the flames. "I am Sailor Ares."

The whipping wind of the explosion's fallout loosened her grey cloak, revealing a dilapidated uniform. Ares nonchalantly wiped her soot-soiled hands on a black bodice crusted with innumerable bloodstains.

"Tell me where the Sovereign of the Spirit is." The Dark Senshi commanded while the fires ignited another explosion behind her. The resulting shockwave billowed out the singed ends of Ares' skirt and teased the tattered edges of the red tassels hanging from her waist.

Sailor Pluto stood strong against the stiff breeze. "Leave this realm, Sailor Ares. You will not find what you're questing for here."

Ares smirked underneath her mask. "Playing dumb with me isn't going to work, Sailor Pluto. We both know that she's here." Without warning, the woman threw both of her hands out toward her
green-haired opponent. "STRAFE SPEAR!"

The Time Guardian leapt over the surge of flames, only to be knocked down by the impact of the fist that followed close behind. Both women landed on the ground and propelled themselves at each other. Ares rolled under the swing of Pluto's staff and failed to connect with a leg sweep. Immediately regaining her footing, Ares charged at her opponent, flailing her limbs, lost in the thrill of combat.

"Where is She?!" She growled at the impassive Senshi as she continued her wild attack.

Fist met staff at every blow, frustrating the black-haired aggressor, who responded by charging back into the fray with greater vigor each time. Patiently, Pluto observed her crazed opponent. Jab, punch, kick, jab, punch, kick. Very slowly she could see it; she just had to keep up a little longer. Jab, punch, kick, jab, kick.

"Damn you!" Ares' rage boiled hotter, and she flung herself into the fray headlong time and again, pushing harder and faster. She would get this Senshi. "Argghh!"

Pluto moved swiftly with her staff, matching her opponent's fervor, coming closer to unlocking the chaotic pattern with each deflection. Jab, punch, kick, punch.

Swinging the staff around, Pluto caught Ares in the knee. Ares' momentum sent her stumbling over, nearly falling to her knees. Pluto leapt back and brought her staff around, unleashing her own attack.

"Dead scream."

The whirling ball of sand rushed toward Ares and smashed into her chest. Her body skipped across the hard concrete like a stone, coming to rest near the collapsed remains of the cafe door.

Immediately, Ares jumped to her feet and tried to regain her breath.

'I'm not letting her win so easily!' She thought, fighting to fill lungs which no longer seemed to want to work.

However, victory would not be so easy, since every intake of air brought on greater twinges of deep-seated pain. On top of that, the Time Guardian now had landed softly in front of her, her staff poised for another attack.

A moment of sobriety overtook the dark-haired madwoman. She became acutely aware that she couldn't take on Sailor Pluto with a few cracked ribs, and though she could probably kill the Senshi, she'd be killing herself in the process. And death presented an insurmountable obstacle in her search for the Sovereign.

Ares sneered within the confines of her mask. `Just when I had a worthy rival…' Oh well, it would give her time to plan. Her smirk widened. She would be better prepared next time.

"Till next time, Pluto," she rasped painfully. "CHAOS FLAME!"

At her command, a wall of fire once again burst from the ground between the pair. The Time Guardian could only shield her face until the flames died away, revealing that the Dark Senshi had disappeared.

Sailor Pluto relaxed her posture and looked at the ruins surrounding her. This one had proven to be more powerful than her expectations. There could be no holding back with these Dark Senshi, and they were the all the more dangerous for it. The screams of the sirens grew closer, spurring her to retreat.

She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to alleviate the sadness that weighed on her. More would have to suffer inevitably, but she couldn't stall any longer; the poor child would have to face her destiny.

It was time.

-End of Chapter 1-
I'd like to thank Setsu-P for letting me play around with her characters in this story and correcting every little detail I had gotten wrong as well as giving this one an extensive revision. Thanks again Setsu-P!
Then I'd like to thank Chris for providing me with bios and background on Sailor Ares and permitting me to let her terrorize Ben's Cafe. FYI, Ben's Cafe was an actual café in Tokyo.
Next I'd like to thank David Johnston for helping me edit this sucker.
I'd also like to thank Dark Master Jewelle for her help on Otaku Senshi Clichés.
And last of all I'd like to thank all of the folks on the Pretty Soldier ML (may you rest in peace) for supplying me with the SM information I needed. I especially appreciate all of your efforts.
Sailor Moon is owned by Naoko Takeuchi.
All original characters are owned and copyrighted by Setsu-P (c) 2000.
They are being used with owner's expressed permission.
~ Bastion
Edit 11/08 - Setsu-P Revised