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It begins and ends with Minako, or just ends, if you pose the question to her alone. She isn't a believer in that kind of forgiveness. You screw up, you screw up, and she has a laundry list of points to throw around. Someone needs to be the bad guy.
"I would if I could," she finally tells Usagi at lunch. It's become kind of their thing, food and random places. She smiles with her teeth. "But someone's got to be the bitch in this, you know, and if it's going to be me, it's going to be me."
Usagi's eyes darken. She straightens in her seat. "Mina-chan."
She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. "You know I'm right." She pauses again. "You know that you have to maintain face. Makoto and Ami-chan also don't have steel around their hearts and like, love, puppies. You know Rei is too busy trying to protect herself from forgiving anyone, daddy issues aside, let alone falling in love again. So I'll be the bad guy. I should."
"That isn't something you should do to yourself."
Minako rubs her eyes. "It's not like I have a choice," she says.
"We all have choices," Usagi says and the exhaustion sharpens across her face. Since meeting the Time Guardian, something in Usagi has sharpened. Minako misses the girl. "There's no such thing as a singular path," she murmurs, shaking her head. "This would all be very, very different, you know."
"So you say."
Usagi gives her a look and it's the kind of look that she can't handle. It softens her face. She looks older. It makes Minako feel too cynical. She almost says i have been doing this too long but that is neither here nor there, nor is it the right thing to say, because there are a lot she can do, she can say, but all of that stops when she comes head to head with Usagi.
"Please stop," she says finally, and looks away.
They should be at the arcade. They will be. They have another hour until they meet with the other girls. This cafe is somewhere between Mamoru and Usagi's place and Minako's place, ironically enough, and makes for strange, awkward, and even painful run ins. She loves Usagi. She tolerates Mamoru. Her memories with forever be different than all of the girls; she blames the former prince, she doesn't, and yet, she still remembers that she fell in love.
So they've ordered drinks. Usagi drinks tea. Minako sticks with coffee and wink at a college boy that has been watching her. She enjoys that. Distractions make her wiser.
"I didn't mean that," she starts again and Usagi laughs, straight into her drink. She watches the younger sip at her tea. Her gaze stays at her hands. "I mean, I did. But you know --"
Usagi nods. "I know."
This is all that she says. The silent question goes unanswered.
Responses are supposed to be quicker.
Go back a little before.
Not completely -- Minako would rather not explain her memories of Kunzite because they are there, they have been there since she was twelve, maybe eleven, and love was just as romantic as it wasn't, and the idea that someone might have loved her, really loved her, made everything even more fragile than it already was. Minako does not like to talk about England. Her English is sharp. Her memories are sharper. Her loneliness shaped her into edges and that is all that she needs; those edges will continue to keep her alive and the others as well. Edges make a leader.
But she didn't know him and only knew him enough to not be completely naive. It's a mystery how she survived that far.
She was meant to.
And so was he.
Kunzite is alive.
She knows this. He tells her in her bedroom. He sits at her desk. She leans against her bedroom door. Her back is tight and flushed against the wood. She listens to her mother move around in the kitchen downstairs; being worried about Artemis is pointless because she's learned to be two steps ahead since the beginning.
"I'm disappearing," he says, staring at his hands, "and I imagine it's because it's time for me to be elsewhere."
Her eyes narrow. "That makes no sense." She understands what he's saying though. "Because if you were reincarnated, what is the point of you being like --" her hands move furiously at him, "like, you know, that."
He shrugs. "But you know what I mean," he points out. His voice is dry. "I'm sure you expected that too."
Nathan's name goes unsaid between them. She doesn't have to tell him. She wonders if his conversations with Mamoru go the same way. Usagi doesn't talk about it. The toll on the former Earth Prince is very clear; then again, no one is surprise when it comes to brainwashing and betrayal. Those are his own issues anyway.
"What is the point of you showing up here anyway?"
He laughs. The sound is too low. It's almost shy. Minako flushes and turns her head. She stares at her bedroom. There are cracks in the wall, she thinks.
"Venus," he says gently.
"Don't patronize me," she snaps.
Her eyes narrow when he steals her gaze. He stands and moves to her. She thinks: he's never let me have space. That's a memory. It pulls at her a little too hard.
"Sorry."
Minako sighs, rubbing her eyes. "Don't," she says, "because then I'll start to apologize and I don't really want to start apologizing to you, you know. I'd rather hold a grudge for, like, the rest of eternity."
He laughs again and it's strange, so strange, to go and react to it. Her face feels warm. She thinks and feels like he's a man and that is ridiculously intimidating to her. Most day, she feels like she's just a teenager with nothing more than a little magic to keep her going and moving as best as she can.
"I'll try my best," he says, and it means everything and nothing with just a few words.
She was in that room, you know.
When they met the Neo-Queen, her husband, and the four future versions of themselves in the time (that timeline always goes unsaid) surrounded in crystals. She remembers only the look of resigned horror in Usagi's face, something she doesn't ever want to see but she is neither naive or stupid.
The stones were there too. Zoisite, kunzite, jadeite, and nephrite.
Ghost stories. She hates them too.
Ami comes to her when she waits for the others to come to her first. She is surprised that it's Ami. No one would ever expect that it's Ami. Minako has started to think in strategic form; it's weird but expected. Some old habits aren't meant to go away after all.
"Did you know this was going to happen?" Ami asks because it's Ami and Ami isn't cruel. She sits outside of the school with her. Usagi is getting extra help with math; they both think it's funny but neither of them are surprised. "That," Ami starts again as they sit on a bench by the entrance, "we were going to have to meet with them again. Are they necessary? Is this --" Ami pauses, swallowing. She starts again. "Isn't this cruel?"
"You're asking the wrong person," she says.
She doesn't know what else to do. In every aspect, Minako is ready to be a leader. She loves Usagi fiercely. She is starting to love the girls more. She knows how to plan for battles on the fly. She is always expecting to not know what is next.
Ami's gaze softens. "I don't think that."
"Then?" she's blunt and she means it. "I don't know what you want me to say to you."
"I want an answer," she says. Ami doesn't know how to lie. "I know you have a head start." There's a sharpness to her voice. "I'm not upset, you know. I just -- I don't know where to begin."
"And you think I do?" she bites back. Minako thinks of Usagi and breathes. "Sorry," she says and she's not. "I just -- if anything, Mamoru should be the one getting these questions."
Ami laughs, but it never reaches her eyes. "I suppose so." Minako looks away, but the other girl presses. "Then again, this is the only other thing the five us have in common."
Minako tries and breathes.
Ami terrifies her differently than the other two. She's quiet and unpredictable like Usagi, just as volatile as Rei, and while she isn't as physical as Makoto, there is a certain fierceness that makes Ami every bit the contender. It makes Minako nervous; she cannot box any of them into any category because change is change and there is always more than accountability and acceptance.
But they are just girls in the end, and Ami's uniform is rumpled and unsettled against her knees. She doesn't ask about Zoisite. Minako doesn't believe she carries that right.
"You know Nephrite is alive," she says. "Like reincarnated and everything."
"I know."
Minako's head drops back. "I can't even think about it -- how did you find out? It's not like Makoto was volunteering the information."
Ami nods. "It was an accident." She pauses, rubbing her eyes. "I was walking home with Makoto-chan. She didn't --" she pauses, laughing nervously, "she didn't mean for me to see him so I didn't anything. I didn't think I should overstep. And he knew I knew it was him."
Minako doesn't ask what happened. She leans against the bench, dropping her head back. Her hair spills everywhere. She thinks, she tries and thinks about what she has later in the day. She's a teenager. She failed her history test. She has volleyball and tutoring. Senpai will walk her to the training facilities. She should like him, by all accounts.
By all accounts, she doesn't. He's the wrong one.
"I think he's alive."
Ami coughs and hides her surprise. "Zoisite," she says, but there is hesitation. She makes a mistake and it's not really phrased as a question. They both know who she means. Kunzite.
"Did you see him?"
This won't be the last time she lies.
"No," she says.
Minako remembers the day that Usagi saw him for the first time. How could she not? He is, was the best worst kept secret she had in her arsenal of terrible things. But first:
It rains the day she realizes that Nathan isn't the only one. That confirmation comes later. She is walking to volleyball; the gym is being used and so their coach decided to rent a place outside of school. It's not the best idea and Minako forgets to carry her umbrella that morning.
Her uniform is soaked. She is waiting for the bus; she should have been at practice twenty three minutes ago. She's wearing sweatpants over her shorts. She isn't dressed for the weather. There is a hole in her umbrella and she is starting to get angry.
"If this is the worst --"
She stops because she isn't alone at the stop. There are other girls from school. She has a few seniors that she knows. There are boys from a neighboring private school and a crowd of university students. You can recognize a professor almost instantly. Teachers at their school are young and naive and look the part; when Kunzite walks into the stop, he's pressed into a suit, in clean creases and a tight ponytail. A friend calls him and she smells the sandalwood.
She knows the following: his name is Keizou, he teaches history and is divorced, he has a girlfriend but it isn't serious and the sex is okay because his colleague next to him says, "you should consider something else!" and the smile that he wears is greasy enough for Keizou to flinch, flush and roll his eyes all the same. She learns this all in the span of ten minutes, between his admirers and the colleagues around them. She thinks simply: this is something for another time because she is long past any sort of solution and the timeline waits for no one.
So she drops her sneakers. And she thinks it might be on purpose.
"Sorry," she stumbles, and he smiles absently. He doesn't know who she is and she should be relieved. Instead, her voice trembles. "I'm so tired and stressed and have a ton of homework, but, serious -- I hope you don't think I, like, threw them at you."
Keizou chuckles. She thinks she could have caught a last name too.
"Accidents happen," he says gently.
Her heart is in her throat. She meets his gaze to see if there's anything. His eyes are blue. He has a shadow of his beard. She wonders if he sleeps or drinks too much coffee.
"I'm a klutz," she agrees, and her throat is starting to burn because there is a scar and it cuts into his jaw and she feels like she should know this scar, know how it came to be and why he wears it even though she is pretty sure it can be fixed. She remembers the future and thinks about the Neo-Queen stuck in that stupid, strange crystal prison. She remembers seeing the kunzite first.
He studies her. She looks away, dropping her gaze to her sneakers. Her laces are tied tightly.
He touches her elbow.
"Do I know you," he asks, really asks, and she wishes that she had trained herself to sort of, kind of, be prepared for that kind of question (she's usually better) but then again, she never did think that traitors would come back to life either. "You just look so familiar."
She laughs and it sounds nervous. "I just have that kind of face." She shrugs. "It's generic."
"I doubt it," he says.
She blushes. It's stupid but she does and her face feels like it's on fire, starting at her throat and crawling into her cheeks. She bows her head and suddenly wishes, almost spitefully, that he did remember because this is lonely and hateful and she wants neither of these feelings.
"You have no idea," she says.
This won't be the last time she sees him, or lies to herself; everything is painful, sharper, and so much fiercer around him. She is aware of her mortality and she thinks that she hates him for it. She thinks that she knows -- no, no, she knows that Venus hated him for that too. This isn't simple. It isn't meant to be.
She doesn't know what happens next. He touches her wrist. He doesn't. Someone runs into her and she stumbles into his chest. He is close, closer, and she just isn't prepared. None of the girls are around. Usagi isn't around. This is crueler than she needs it to be.
"I should go," she says, croaks, and she starts walking to friends. She smiles lamely and wishes for the girls then and there.
His name is Keizou, she tells herself again.
He watches her leave.
The bus is late and this feels like an excuse.
Mamoru writes a list. Usagi is late and Minako feels awkward, alone in his apartment, even though Chibi-Usa is fast asleep on the couch and there is an entire kitchen between them.
Usagi isn't coming tonight. She may know that she's here.
"So there isn't an answer," she says, finally, and Mamoru hands her the list. She doesn't read because it's stupid and she finds lists stupid, kind of like week old boyfriends that haven't really done anything magical yet. She feels different too, but that's for another time. She cannot get Kunzite, Keizou out of her head.
"No," he says. He rubs his eyes, watching her from his couch. There are school books around him. "You know just as much as I do. I keep searching, you know, but my memories are completely closed off."
She huffs. "Maybe you're not trying hard enough."
It's petulant but she doesn't regret it. Usagi isn't here. His eyes still narrow and his hands hit his knees.
"Minako."
She starts back, unwavering. She remembers the sandalwood in her bedroom. She remembers Kunzite flickering in and out. She remembers how dull that sharp, strange piece of stone that he left her. She does not believe in good intentions. She wished he would have just asked them.
"Sorry," she says then and thinks of Usagi. Her lips purse. "Or maybe you should just try very little. Maybe there's a reason why you can't remember things completely."
She folds back the list. She hands it to him.
"I'm sorry," he says and he means it as much as she does. He shifts back, studying her. He doesn't take the list either. "Those memories aren't the only ones that I have to deal with," he says quietly. "I'm not going to apologize for that, you know."
Minako flushes. "I didn't ask," she snaps.
Venus surfaces like this. Her mouth is tight and dry. It feels like something terrible is going to happen and laughter builds, bubbles over against the back of her throat. She feels hysterical. He looks at her and she thinks he knows it.
"It's different without her." Mamoru's eyes close. She watches his lashes flutter. His fist clenches tightly over his knee. "It's selfish but I only know of my life with her, around her, and about her. I hate that. I feel guilty for hating that."
She shrugs. "It makes you human," and there's a slight, faint trace of amusement in her mouth, "and that's okay because regardless of, like, who we were and whatever. We're still people. We still have lives. So all this stuff with timelines and past lives? That matters when it needs to matter. Stop trying to find answers. They'll come if they need to."
He doesn't smile. He reaches forward and pushes books away from the coffee table and bring them between them. She's startled, looks around, and thinks about how bare his apartment is.
"You should read the list," he says.
Minako leaves it by the door on her way out.
He's a smoker.
At the bus stop, he drops a cigarette and a book.
"Senpai!" A woman calls and Minako feels herself fluster. Someone kicks the book forward and lands by her feet. The woman scolds him too. "Senpai," she says. "You should be more careful."
Minako looks down at the book, tries not to get angry because hearing senpai makes everything seem that much worse. She can taste ash and wishes it was from the cigarette.
She drops slightly though and picks up the book. Her fingers are careful against the pages and the spine. The book is worn. It's good to know, she thinks. She pauses it. The bus starts to roar down their street; they have been meaning to repair it and everyone hears the driver complain on their way home.
"Thank you."
Minako blinks. Keizou stands in front of her. She blinks again and there is a name tag pinned to his jacket with a last name. Her lips purse and pucker forward.
"Sure," she says, doesn't mean, and he looks surprised.
There is no epic moment. She is not Usagi. He is not Mamoru. She knows exactly who he is. Feelings are feelings. She can put together the man through pieces of conversation. It's simple. It's strategic.
But it doesn't mean that she doesn't watch him, or that he isn't close enough, too close, really, for her to feel the vibration of his both and feel the memory start to loosen. She cannot hate a complete stranger but nothing about this is meant to be rational.
"Do I know you?" He seems flustered and shakes his head. "Sorry. I asked that before. I mean, I see you around here all the time. I'm pretty sure I asked --"
"I'm going home," she lies and that's only partially a lie. He doesn't need to know that Rei is in this direction. Or Mamoru.
His head tilts. "Are you a student?"
Minako hesitates. It's slight. "No," she says and practically shoves the book into his hands. Her hands drop and press against her skirt. "Senpai!" the woman calls and Minako says at the same time, "I guess my impression was terrible from the last time."
His laugh feels charming and familiar. She flushes, ducking. "I doubt that," he says and takes the book back. "But thanks anyway."
She watches him catch up with the woman, who smiles and links arms with him. Minako feels something stir in her, but shoves it back, right where it came from, because it shouldn't matter. She has her chances. He has his own.
She bites into a grin, sitting at the bench. The kunzite in her pocket presses against the tips of her fingers.
She cuts herself later.
The bus drives away from the stop.
Makoto brings her roses. They are yellow and pale.
The gesture isn't meant to be gentle.
"It changes," she says.