Part III |Minako Aino. | 5,979 words
Spoilers/warnings: Post-manga story. There will be spoilers to some degree.
Theme song: FFVII Crisis Core - The Price of Freedom.

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heartbeat
Pawns on a gigantic chess game is what this is.
(and she is but just one of the many pieces.)

. .

1.

Her memories return with a pounding headache.

She spends a week to think about it.

She spends another week exploring katas and magic she had no idea how to do up until a full lifetime worth of memories came back to her, and she performs them like they had always been a part of her.

She also spends an evening to talk with Artemis, who had been something like a half-father and half-guardian; by the end of that discussion, something like sadness and resignation is etched on the white cat's face, but he says nothing further as she taps at her watch and calls a meeting with the Inner Senshi sans the prince and the princess.

She wants to restart all of their training, and she wants it started yesterday.

No complaints come from her three companions. No indication of surprises either.

And Minako can read the memories and darkness bleeding in from a lifetime ago hidden beneath their gazes like a book.

The leader of the Senshi also spends a day travelling to the Outer Senshi's residence. Haruka, Michiru and Hotaru aren't around, out on various businesses ranging from racing to musical activities to school, but Setsuna is.

Setsuna looks like she had been expecting her.

Minako is not surprised.

. .

2.

She wants to break.

She is breaking breaking breaking –

She clutches at her heart, gasping for air, her lungs feeling as if they are squeezing tight and not letting her breathe.

There are firm hands catching her before she can fall, holding her steady, and she knows it's Rei.

She doesn't look at Rei, whose gaze is all too knowing and too sad and too worried even as she trembles in her friend's arms.

Damn it damn it damn it.

Her knees seem to have lost their strength, and down they go to the cold wooden floor of Rei's bedroom, with the priestess balancing them and making sure it's not a painful drop.

When are you going to stop being so damned weak, Aino Minako?

"You are not weak," Rei's sudden and reproachful voice says sharply, as if reading her mind.

Those words make her want to bark out a bitter, disbelieving laugh.

But instead, she shudders out a breath, even as her friend pulls her closer.

"Sorry," she whispers into her neck. "I don't – I mean, I – sorry." Her eyes close shut. "I'm sorry. Rei, I can't – all these – "

"Minako."

The hold tightens.

She shuts up, and it's not because Rei had interrupted the beginnings of her tirade.

It's because when Rei says her name, it is in a very, very quiet voice – so quiet that it cuts through the shuddering and the darkness that had been steadily creeping up on her like a black fog that makes it so hard to see and run from and it's like she's drowning –

"You knew to come here when you need it," her friend says then, just as quiet as she was a moment ago, silencing her with things unsaid. "And that's enough for me, Minako."

She did know.

That is, after all, the reason why she ran all the way to the shrine, where she knows Rei will be, and when she knows the others will not be, yet.

It is also not the first time this has happened.

Minako hates herself for letting this happen. This shouldn't even happen at all.

But she's not prideful enough to deal with this alone when her memories of a lifetime ago and the darkness dwelling in her becomes so much that it threatens to overwhelm her and make her break.

Above all, she refuses – refuses – to be a danger to her princess the way she once was when Galaxia happened. It isn't so much that her breaking would be dangerous for Usagi, but her breaking at the wrong time – such as when Usagi is in danger – is something she will never, ever let happen.

And for all the leader she may be now and before, she is not proud enough to claim that she will never need help; and Rei is altogether (too) observant and discreet and her confidante.

Ami and Makoto never knew. Suspected and have some inkling, maybe. But they can't see the extent of it the way Rei did and does, and Minako will make sure they never see it; for she is their leader and strength and she will never stop being that way until she dies.

(And Serenity will absolutely, never, ever, ever know.)

The person holding her sighs.

A chin rests lightly on the top of her head, and Rei is rocking her gently.

That gesture is far too comforting and affectionate and familiar and it makes her eyes burn even as she stares at the white-red priestess clothes belonging to Rei.

"One of these days," her friend says, very softly, and there's a mishmash of sadness and anger and weary amusement bleeding into her voice, "I'm going to tell you to stop having these self-destructive tendencies, and you will obey my every word, Minako."

The strange irony of those words causes a strangled, choked laughter to bubble up from her throat.

"I'm not sure you can," she whispers, hoarse and wry and humored altogether.

"I can and will," Rei disagrees, tone somewhat lighter, but still angry and meaning every word she says.

She doesn't know how Rei intends to do it, or if she even can, but there's something about the way it's said that makes her want to trust in those words.

And suddenly, Minako wants to tell her about the conversation she had with Setsuna when their memories had just returned; of the things that had happened a lifetime ago, and what she thinks may happen in the future.

Of things she's been suspecting since after the events with Galaxia.

She has a feeling that day will come soon – the day when the Shitennou will return, the day when he returns, and the day when all that they remember from a millennium ago will be their undoing.

But she holds her tongue.

Rei doesn't have to bear that burden, not yet. None of the Senshi do, either.

Her eyes close again, and her fingers curl in on white fabric unconsciously.

It's hers alone to bear, this burden.

"Are you calm now?" Rei asks suddenly, cutting her away from thoughts that are spiraling downwards too quickly.

There's a part of Minako that wonders if the priestess sensed her thoughts going down a darker path, and decided to speak, deliberately, before it could go any further.

She doesn't think she would be surprised if she had guessed right.

But she does feel a lot calmer. Her heart doesn't feel like its squeezing painfully anymore, and she can breathe. And the tension that she feels is gradually fading.

And Minako's not sure why she hadn't noticed earlier, but she can, now.

There is a calm, steady heartbeat belonging to Rei that reverberates through the cloth to where she's pressed against her, and she can feel it more than she can hear it.

It makes a childlike part of her think that she will be able to see the heartbeat if she stares at Rei's familiar white and red robes hard enough, and the implausibility of it makes her want to snort with strangled, hysterical laughter.

"Yes," she whispers then, voice still hoarse, but with a lightness to it that she didn't realize she was feeling. It's also no longer panicked and shuddering the way it was earlier. "Yes, I am."

Silence reigns in the room, in which Rei seems to consider her words.

"Good," her friend sighs after a moment. The priestess speaks no further, but the hands curled around Minako seems to tighten almost imperceptibly. Protectively.

And it makes her eyes close, that gesture.

She breathes.

. .

3.

Jadeite is back, and she's...not quite surprised.

He is very much alive, and is apparently sitting in Makoto's cafe right now. He is also just in time for their upcoming graduation from university.

Perhaps the only thing that surprises her about this is the fact it took this long for him to make his appearance – though the haggardness weighing down on Jadeite's shoulders is something that she has been expecting.

She had thought of so many possible scenarios – from them coming back as corrupted generals that the Senshi would have to kill again, to normal people with no inkling of their identities, and to what seems to be remorseful and guilty men.

She supposes that she shouldn't be surprised that it was the last that occurs.

One is back. Three more has yet to appear.

Or two and a half, maybe, since Zoisite is halfway there, somewhat – apparently Jadeite's roommate in this lifetime by sheer coincidence. No memories, for reasons she doesn't know yet, but he is there. Ami – who had been more quiet than usual – has already confirmed his identity; Mamoru has yet to decide what to do with him, much less approach him.

Nephrite is nowhere to be seen.

That man has – or should have, anyway – the guidance of the Stars; and it was Makoto who raised this point. She seems very certain – though neither happy nor sad nor angry – that he will find his way back to Endymion, so long he is the person he once was before Beryl happened, and if he has his memories.

And Kunzite?

Jadeite has no answers, but Minako has her own suspicion.

It's difficult to imagine Kunzite without his...memories. That man is far more likely to travel to hell and back just to make sure he knows what happened and what is going on.

And she doesn't know if she will be surprised to see if his eyes are green.

Or if they are grey.

. .

4.

The look Usagi gives her is tinged with suspicion and something like humored exasperation.

"You were there, weren't you?"

"Hmm? There, where?" she asks, all innocent, even as she turns a page of the comic book she's reading from where she's lying down on the bed, face up; where the main protagonist – Chieri – is now preparing herself for a painful breakup because it just wasn't meant to be.

Her princess gives her the evil eye.

"I felt your presence," Usagi says, "when I took Jadeite to see Rei." Because they needed to talk, her princess doesn't have to explain.

The protagonist approaches the man she loves with trembling footsteps.

"I thought you may have," Minako doesn't deny, answering just as easily, lightly; but she has yet to turn away from the book she's half-engrossed in. Chieri clenches her hands. Unclenches. Breathes in.

Minako is also very aware of a pout directed at her even without looking.

"Mi-na-ko."

The leader of the Senshi sighs and closes the book, stopping at the part where Chieri has just called out to her lover after hesitating for a moment.

She slants the other a level look where Usagi has curled her hands around her knees. "Surely you didn't expect me to trust them right from the start?"

"...No, I didn't." Usagi looks reluctant and conflicted.

Minako feels the barest of a smile form at the answer her princess gives.

That Usagi can – and is willing to – take a step back and view the entire picture as a whole, especially when she is a person ruled by her heart, is a sign of how much she has grown.

"But still," said grown person continues, after a pause. "Did you have to do that?"

She shrugs, balancing the book in mid-air using one finger. "I trust Ami, and I know she went all out to investigate this, but there are also things she can't see that Rei does."

Usagi doesn't refute that. She's persistent, though.

"But hiding on a tree?"

Minako flicks the book up easily, and lets it land on the index finger of her other hand with an expertise born from the experience of a volleyball player.

"It serves my purpose to be a ninja." Now this, she says with a smile that is knowing and filled with mischief – and hey, she'd look pretty good in black, wouldn't she?

Usagi sighs in a way that reminds her of how Serenity had grimaced when Minako – Venus – had done something that was bound to exasperate her princess a lifetime ago.

"What's your verdict, then?"

Minako wonders if her princess had seen the conflicted sadness that was hidden beneath Rei's gaze the way she had when the priestess had reached out to Jadeite, pressing a palm against his chest.

She doesn't think that Jadeite had really realized the full extent of it, at any rate.

And Rei...

"He passes Rei's radar," she says instead.

This, she knows, because that meeting didn't end up in a battle; something that would have happened if Rei sensed something amiss. That would have been the point Minako made her appearance, be it to protect her friend or to kill him or both.

It makes her wonder what expression Rei would have if she'd done it.

It also makes her wonder how Usagi would react.

It scares her.

It scares her.

But even despite that, she knows that she wouldn't give Jadeite the chance to even blink had Rei given her any indication that something was amiss.

She wouldn't even hesitate, something ruthless whispers in her mind.

The idea of it fills her with a strange kind of cold humor that should alarm her but doesn't.

It makes her wonder when she became so merciless.

Venus had always been ruthless, the charming smile often a facade to fool others; but Minako is different.

Was different, really, up until the point when her multiple failures in this lifetime, from Beryl to Galaxia, lashed back at her pride and soul, only made worse when her memories from a lifetime ago returned fully. Her ancient counterpart had never been as careless as her, and it makes something in her twist.

And sometimes, nowadays mostly, she thinks she's more Venus than Minako.

The idea of it leaves a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

"Did he pass your radar?" Usagi asks, pulling her back into the conversation.

A pause, then:

"Mm," she responds, non-committal; book still balanced on her finger as she stares at the ceiling to count the cracks. "Maybe."

At this point, Usagi sighs again, and picks up the comic that is twirling on her index finger, before tapping it gently on Minako's forehead.

"That's not an answer," is her princess's dry response.

She has to smile at that.

"I don't really have an answer for you, Usagi," she says eventually, and it's the honest truth.

The book is removed; placed on the bed.

"But you won't trust them," Usagi's words are as knowing as they were a short while ago, but also laden with meaning.

Minako's response is just as simple. Straight forward.

"No."

A warm hand brushes against the top of her head, and there are gentle fingers brushing away stray strands of golden blonde hair from her face; it's comforting in far too many ways to count and Minako wishes that it wasn't.

The look Usagi gives her is sad. Only sad, nothing more, but it makes her feel as if something is wrenching deep in her heart.

"Will you ever forgive Kunzite, Minako?"

Her eyes close.

"Does it really matter?" she asks her princess softly.

A part of her wishes that Usagi hadn't brought him into their conversation.

"Does it matter to you?" Usagi questions back, her voice just as quiet.

Silence fills the air, but Usagi is still combing through her hair in that way she used to in a past lifetime when Minako had been angry, sad, upset, hurt –

"Minako?" her princess probes, and her gaze opens to meet sky blue eyes that are searching and gentle and too compassionate.

There's a part of her that doesn't want to respond. There's also another part of her that feels an urge to leave and find Rei before – before –

"I don't know," she whispers, and there is something very raw about the way she says it, because this is Usagi, and it is very difficult to lie to her, much less pretend –

Maybe it is because it's the honest truth, too.

And it's one of the most honest answers she would ever give for her whole life.

Usagi's only response is to pull her into a tight, tight hug.

. .

5.

When she sees him, she's stunned enough that she stares for a full two seconds.

But it's only for two seconds.

Then her sword – the Moon Sword that has always been hers to wield – materializes in her hand, and the sound of the blade cutting through air rings in the silence, only to stop one inch from his throat. She doesn't bother transforming; she has long since learned how to use her powers without needing to transform.

He doesn't move.

He doesn't even seem surprised.

That tells Minako two things.

One, unlike Zoisite, he has his memories.

Two, he has been waiting for her, or, he has been looking for her, them, or his prince and coincidentally found her.

But however way she looks at it, the former is more likely, because she knows not many frequent this secluded volleyball court the way she does, much less when it is this late in the night. It's something Minako has been doing a lot ever since their memories returned, and while her comrades know of this court, Rei's really the only one who knows of this particular habit.

It is just a ruse, after all. She didn't come here to practice volleyball, but her magic.

Or maybe he just knows her habits.

And his eyes are green, she notices. Green.

It makes her exhale deeply.

She doesn't know if it's relief or dread that she's feeling.

The lamps shining down on the court from above cast a silver glow over his eyes, and it makes her grip on the sword tighten imperceptibly.

"Talk," is the only word she says, voice betraying nothing.

It's a long moment of silence before he speaks.

"There is nothing I can say." His voice is rough but calm and sure and damnably familiar and it makes her want to slam a fist into his face; Mamoru's prerogative be damned.

Minako doesn't disagree, however. There is, indeed, nothing he can really say. He knows he can neither explain nor apologize for all that had happened, and she knows he won't try either.

She breathes in, slow and deep.

"You found him, didn't you?" she asks then. "You knew where all of us were."

If he was waiting for her, that means he knows.

Something like bitter humor flickers in his gaze.

"I did." A pause, and he goes on to answer the question that he probably guesses is at the tip of her tongue. "I didn't see him because I don't see the point."

Her brows furrow. "And you are here now because Jadeite made himself known."

He doesn't deny that. "Because Endymion will be looking for us now."

Minako narrows her gaze; he's saying he won't approach the prince unless forced to. Jadeite's appearance has forced him to move.

"But you came to me first," she says instead, sword still leveled at his throat. "Why?"

Silence.

"I wanted to talk to you first." HIs tone is quiet. Soft, even.

It makes her want to turn away and leave.

"I'll ask again." Her words are calm and more Venus than Minako. "Why?"

For a moment, he's completely still. Then his lips move. "If he wishes it – and he is, now – we, the shitennou, will gather."

She's silent.

"We will be working together, soon enough." He sounds analytical. He seems to already know she won't kill him unless he proves to be a danger to the prince and princess once more. "I need to know if you are able to accept that, as the leader of the Senshi."

She purses her lips. And when she speaks this time, her voice is completely cold. "You should know better than to ask me that question. I do what I have to do."

Wry amusement flickers in his green eyes. "Still as admirable as ever," he murmurs, and there's something resembling warm humor in his tone that's barely noticeable.

Something twists.

Minako's grip on the sword tenses for the briefest of a moment, but then she sighs, and she pulls the blade away; it fades away as she slackens her hold and takes a step back.

He doesn't follow, which is just as well. Though she no longer wields a weapon, that doesn't mean she is not ready to throw a swift jab that's enhanced with magic where he is least likely to be able to defend.

"Why didn't you meet your prince?"

"I had no reason to."

She thinks he's telling her that he doesn't intend to ask for forgiveness, that he doesn't want the forgiveness that she knows he knows the prince will give, and that he intended to make himself scarce unless he is needed to protect his prince.

She wonders if he would have chosen to kill himself for all he had done instead, if it wasn't for the fact that his duty to protect Endymion binds him to this life.

A part of her thinks he would have.

"But you have pledged yourself to him again," she says, and it's not a question. Not in front of him, but in your heart. Your soul.

He's silent, but he's not disagreeing.

She hears the leaves from the trees rustle gently when a soft wind blows.

And this time, she's the one to break the stillness.

This is just a damned charade, she can't help but think. She's too tired for this, and of asking questions she already half-knows the answers to which he knows too.

"Why are you here, really?" she asks instead, and her voice is softer, a little worn. Resigned. "You know just as well as I do that you didn't come to ask me if I – or the senshi – will be able to work with the shitennou."

"Oh?"

A beat of silence.

She sighs, slow and deep.

"Kunzite," she says then, almost weary, "you were never one to ask questions when you already have the answers to them."

He's similar to her, in this sense. The conversation they just had consists of everything Minako had or would have eventually concluded given time, and nothing she wouldn't have predicted.

And the sound of his name on her tongue feels too nostalgic and timeworn that it makes something twist.

Light shines on them from above, cutting through the darkness of the night and creating a silver hue in his gaze, and it's nothing more than a play of light, she knows, but it doesn't stop her from feeling the vague sensation of ice flowing in her veins.

There is also something unreadable but very there in his gaze that makes it hard to breathe.

"I wanted to see you," he says simply.

This time, she knows he's not lying.

For all the stoicism his quiet voice has, there is something honest and something very, very raw in it.

She watches the way his long white hair seems to ruffle gently with the cool breeze, brighter and softer than it should be due to the lamp above them.

And he's watching her, too; silent and no longer speaking.

"You realize how ridiculous that sounds." She doesn't phrase it as a question. There are too many questions she doesn't want to ask and doesn't really want answers to.

His lips quirk into a half-upturned familiar smile.

"I do," he agrees.

It's the smile she remembers seeing when she met him for the first time a millennium ago to chase after a curious princess who went gallivanting to Earth.

Minako cannot say that she thought she'd ever see it again.

She breathes in. Exhales. Unclenches her fists that had curled unconsciously. It's a good thing he can't tell – her elbows had hid them when she crossed her arms.

Or at least she hopes he couldn't tell.

"You would have been called a traitor for what you just said in a different time," she says instead. Admitting to this was the same as admitting to something forbidden to both of their long-dead kingdoms.

He doesn't disagree. "Most likely beheaded for it."

He sounds a little amused by the thought.

What he said is also as good as admitting to something that Minako doesn't know if she wants to entertain. If she can afford to entertain.

It's the one scenario she did not want to think about, avoided thinking about, regardless of all the possibilities she had considered since she got her memories back.

Her eyes close briefly.

She breathes in the cool air again, and looks up at the midnight blue sky; where the moon is so very white, and bright.

Then she moves, twisting sideways, and takes a couple steps further into the volleyball court; where a ball is rolling on the floor gently with the wind. She hooks a foot underneath it, and flicks it upwards effortlessly and into her hands.

"I'm going home now," she announces to the quiet court, even as she twists the ball to a position where she often balances it with one finger, a motion more instinctive than deliberate.

He says nothing, and only watches her from where he's still standing.

It's quiet once more.

And Minako's the one to break the silence again.

"When you meet your prince," she tells him, soft voice carrying in the still air, calm and matter-of-fact. "I will see you again."

There's a pause.

"Ah," he acknowledges.

It almost feels as if there's a hint of smile in his nondescript response. And whereas a smile normally equates to humor or joy of some sort, Minako can tell that this one doesn't have either of them.

It's something that's neither happy nor sad. It's a smile filled with too many things to name, from unsaid memories and feelings from a lifetime ago to what the future will hold for all of them.

Of things that will be, could become, and things that will never happen.

She turns again, not towards him, but towards the walkway, scattered with stray fallen leaves, to return home. There's a moment when she considers going another way as a diversion, but there's just simply no point if he already knows who and where they are.

And though she doesn't look, she can feel him still watching her.

And it's altogether rattling and familiar and intimate and –

Her eyes close.

The ball stops spinning.

It would have dropped to the ground, too, if it weren't for her quick, instinctive movements to grasp the ball and hook it back into the confines of her palm.

Minako breathes in the scent of fresh flowers and grass, and she moves towards the walkway, away from the court and his presence.

The road is a shade too dark, with no lamps from above to brighten the path. But there is still the moonlight, and it's a shine reflected off the grass and reddish leaves.

She wants to hurt something.

. .

6.

Three weeks pass.

When he approaches her – them – it's without fanfare and with Nephrite and Zoisite flanking him in the nearly empty bistro that is Makoto's; the last flicks over the 'Closed' sign on the cafe's door silently before returning to sit beside her at the big, round table.

They may have been expecting them, this time, but she still finds herself looking at Zoisite a few seconds more than the other two.

Didn't he not have his memories?

And if Nephrite simply looks pensive, the younger man looks doubly so.

She watches Jadeite give them a brief nod from the prince's side but otherwise doesn't move.

It makes her wonder what happened since the conversation in the volleyball court. It wouldn't surprise her if Kunzite had expedited this...reunion. If it could even be called that.

The air around them is completely silent.

Mamoru appears to be at a loss for words, there are no words forthcoming from any of the generals, and her own comrades doesn't seem to deem it necessary to speak yet either.

And she finds herself noting that, while unreadable, Ami doesn't look confused at all to see Zoisite. Her friend is tapping away at her computer steadily.

Makoto looks like she's half baffled and half not, expression curiously calm and humorless; but she knows her fists have tightened under the table. It makes Minako move a hand over one of Makoto's to squeeze gently; and just for a little bit, she feels her friend relax marginally.

Rei is a blank mask, scrutinizing and untouchable. Her arms are crossed where she sits by their princess's side (and nowhere near Jadeite).

Usagi is quiet, too, but her gaze is knowing and expectant and Minako knows that her silence is deliberate.

The leader of the senshi looks over all of them.

Her gaze sweeps from the princess and prince, first, to her sisters, then to each of the men who were once traitors and once companions that could have become so more.

There's no hostility in the air, but it's not welcoming either.

She settles on him last.

He eyes her calmly.

She eyes him back.

Minako is the one who breaks the silence; hands steepling together as she rests her chin on them.

"Kunzite," she acknowledges, tone neither friendly nor antagonistic.

It's a moment before he nods.

"Venus," he says calmly, like it's the first meeting they ever had as leaders of their respective soldiers.

And maybe it is, in a very, very strange, twisted way.

She breathes in deeply.

Then she gestures for them to sit at the empty chairs on the opposite side.

"Sit," she says simply.

They do.

It's like the gathering of a disjointed cavalry, she thinks as she sweeps her gaze over all of them again.

And she doesn't know if this should have happened long ago or shouldn't happen at all.

. .

7.

The meeting is over, and most of them had settled into smaller groups for idle conversation.

Minako's not sure if she's surprised to actually see it happen. For a short while during the meeting, she isn't completely certain if it was possible at all.

Usagi is talking to Jadeite and Nephrite – who hasn't stopped looking solemn – and a silent, watchful Rei is by her side. So is Ami, who is quiet, but not silent like Rei. Minako knows that both of them do not intend to leave the princess alone with any of the men at all.

Mamoru had pulled Zoisite – an upset, depressed Zoisite – to the island table with tall stools and is talking to him in low tones. Of all the Shitennou, this general did appear to be the most affected by all that happened, so Minako is not surprised.

Makoto is there, too – making more drinks for all of them behind the island – and contributing to the conversation between Zoisite and Mamoru now and then. Minako also knows that her friend is there mostly because Mamoru is not to be left alone with them.

And Kunzite is perusing the magazine that he picked up from the stack of reading materials available by the corner of the bistro.

She leans against the pillar behind him, crosses her arms, and peers at what he is reading from above his shoulder.

The title on the page makes her blink. It's bold, it's in red, and it says, "How to spring-clean your financial house!"

"Yes?" queries Kunzite calmly, eyes still on the article.

"Are you someone who's stingy with money?" She can't hide the amusement from her voice. She really, really just can't. For some reason, the idea of him as a stingy person is incredibly funny.

He gives her a sidelong backward glance and arches a brow. "I'm practical with money."

"I'm sure you are," she says dryly.

He humors her with a brief smile. Then he gestures at the general direction of the seats available around him. "Would you like to sit?"

She's silent, for a scant few seconds, eyeing him with an expression that cannot be read.

Then she pulls out the chair next to him, sits, and leans back against it.

He picks up a glass from the middle of the table, grabs the jar of water, and pours it out for her. "Here," he says, all gentleman like as he slides it to her.

She nods, and takes a sip.

"I'm surprised Mamoru hasn't cornered you." Minako spares a glance at the prince who is still talking to Zoisite, crossing her legs.

"He will," is Kunzite's simple response, turning a page of the magazine he's reading.

His voice is stoic and matter-of-fact, the expression on his face and his body language betray nothing; but Minako can tell that he's still preparing himself for it.

And Minako doesn't know if she likes the idea of being able to read him so easily.

It's a moment of indecisiveness as she picks up the glass to take another sip before turning to him again.

"I can't give you the answer you want," she says suddenly. "Not now."

He stops perusing the magazine and eyes her calmly.

"I know."

Minako's not surprised to see that he does.

"I won't trust you." It needs to be said. She's not saying it to hurt him, but it needs to be said.

He nods, green eyes still calm and seemingly unaffected. "I would have been surprised if you had said you will."

Minako hates that part of him, even though she knows she won't fault him for it, because that would be hypocrisy, and there's only so much of a hypocrite she will be.

Then he goes on to ask a question that does surprise her, because it's very, very out of the blue and on a completely different track from the conversation they are – were – having.

"What are your thoughts on Crystal Tokyo?"

It takes her a moment to realize that he's probably very uncertain about it, for all the calmness he's exuding. Minako doesn't share the sentiments he has (not that much), because she has had years to prepare, but it is not the same for the Shitennou.

This is why she spends an extra few seconds to formulate a response.

"It's a beginning," she says eventually. Her statement is also very simple in its meaning.

He looks thoughtful at that. Almost pensive.

Then he spares a brief glance around the cafe, studying the senshi, the princess, his brothers – lingering at his prince the longest – before turning back to her.

"For the whole world." It's less of a question and more of a statement, the way he says it – and perhaps not on a very different track from the conversation they were having, after all.

She eyes him for a moment before speaking.

"For all of us." She doesn't disagree.

A moment of silence.

Then he picks up his cup of coffee and holds it mid-air like it's an offer.

"To the future?" he asks conversationally. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, and a myriad of emotions hidden in the depth of his gaze that she can probably decipher and doesn't try to.

Minako arches a brow, curious and amused by his response.

But she acquiesces, picking up her own glass of water, and clinks it with his cup before echoing his words.

"To the future," she agrees.

. .

"The past is never where you think you left it."
– Katherine Ann Porter

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A/N – Minako's a pain to write. A big, big pain.

So...this was also written for the Shitennou Ficathon 2012. With, of course, a number of things rewritten, rephrased, etc since then. It also occurred to me that I should have the revised version posted up earlier, but it kept slipping my mind to do so. Ehh.

Regardless. I hope it's a good read.

Cheers!