Fandom: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon: Sailor Stars (anime)
Date Finished:
Classification: Alternate Universe, Romance, Angst
Pairing: Seiya/Yaten, Taiki/Ami, Mamoru/Usagi, Haruka/Michiru  
Rating: NC-17

The Long Road
By Elsewhere
elsewherecw@shaw.ca

All other information in Part One.

Part Two: Do This Anymore

Glossary:
ano - um
damare - be quiet
eto - um
gomen ne - I’m sorry
ikenee - a masculine rendition of ‘ikenai’---basically just, "oh crap."
na - a masculine version of ‘ne’---seeking confirmation or another person’s attention
oi - hey
omae - you (not a very polite pronoun; nonetheless, Seiya’s usual method of addressing people)
sore de ii - that’ll be fine
suman - sorry (masculine)
Yaten da ne? - Yaten, isn’t it?

The two questions Yaten asks towards the end didn’t look right in English, so I left them in Japanese, as they appeared in my thoughts. ^^; They translate roughly as follows:
kowai no ka? - ‘are you frightened?’ or, ‘do you find it frightening?’
osoroshii no ka? - ‘are you terrified?’ or, ‘do you find it terrifying?’
(The latter in each case is the more accurate translation, and it’s a natural construction in Japanese but a bit awkward in English. ;P)

*****
In 10 minutes I’ll be laying out flat on the floor
Like I need to defend my own innocence
So what I did it, I admit it
And I’m pleading the fifth
*****

He almost expected to wake up the next morning and realize that the whole thing had been a dream. That she had been a dream, some kind of fairy that had come to taunt him. But as he poured milk into his cereal that morning and caught sight of the wound on his arm, still wrapped in the bandage she’d taken such care to tend it with, he realized that he was just being stupid. He supposed it was because of the challenge that he felt like retreating into that kind of dreamy explanation.

Well, he couldn’t leave it alone. While he was at home, alone, sitting in front of the TV, he thought maybe…but no. As soon as he got to the club and stepped in the door and saw her sitting there at her usual place, drinking something that he was pretty sure was called ‘sex on the beach’ in English…he realized that it was hopeless. It was going to bother him until he did something about it.

So, he played his first set, occasionally glancing over towards her, noting that she was listening, a kind of thoughtful look on her face. And then, when break time came, he strode over towards her. He kept the idea of purpose in his mind, knowing that if he didn’t, he was probably likely to back down.

"Na, omae…Yaten da ne?"

She lifted her head and sighed quietly, dropping her hand to rest against her chin.

"I told you yesterday, didn’t I? I’m not ‘omae’. Address me properly. Yaten will do, yes."

She sounded bored more than annoyed, but he still realized he’d messed up his first impression for this meeting. Oh well, to hell with it.

"Right…sorry. About yesterday…thanks."

"It was nothing," she said, sipping at her drink, her eyes traveling around the bar.

/She doesn’t seem to really give a damn whether I’m standing here talking to her or not,/ he thought. Somehow this took the wind out of his sails a little bit, but he still had a purpose, so it was time to persevere. He was definitely capable of persevering.

"Well…about what you said yesterday." And that was where he paused, because he realized with a sudden stroke of concern that he hadn’t actually thought about *what* he wanted to say about what she’d said yesterday.

She was looking at him now, expectantly, in a way that made him start to sweat. She was waiting for him to speak, and he…really had nothing to say.

"Well, I…was hoping…you might clarify that," was what tumbled out of his mouth in the ensuing moments of struggle, and when the words were out in the open air, he frowned slightly. What the hell? He was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say.

"I’m sorry; you lost me several minutes ago," she said in the same totally non-interested tone of voice; this time he really wasn’t surprised. He would have long since lost interest in a moron like him too, he figured. "What did you want me to clarify?"

"What you said yesterday, when you challenged me."

"When I…what?" Long silver eyelashes fluttered once, then twice. He’d got her attention, somehow. She was looking at him, her brow mildly furrowed as she considered him.

"When you made that challenge…you know. That is what it was, wasn’t it?"

"I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific," she said, with a touch of impatience.

"Well…" He glanced around the bar, checking that no one was watching, and then slid into the seat across from her. "You said that I might be wrong about you, right?"

Her brow smoothed and she leaned back in her seat, eyeing him evenly.

"Yes, I do remember saying that. What about it?"

"You said that I might be wrong or I might be right about whether you ever have those kinds of feelings. What’d you mean?"

"Obviously I meant that you could be right or you could be wrong about me; you simply don’t know because you don’t *know* me," she said calmly, folding her hands as though she was closing a business deal.

"And that’s a challenge, right? Why would you say something like that if you weren’t implying that you wanted me to find out?"

His voice was triumphant. His logic was flawless and he knew it.

"Find out?" she repeated crisply, lifting both eyebrows sharply.

"Enough about you to know whether I’m wrong or right," he specified, nodding his head.

She blinked, once, and then offered him a smile that seemed slightly irritated.

"It was a turn of speech, Seiya. An expression. I really don’t care in the least what you think of me," she told him, matter-of-factly. Every word crisply presented, neatly in a line. Her Japanese was so smooth but so ingratiating it almost hurt.

"Fine, but don’t you think I care?" he said after he’d managed to catch his breath.

That caught her attention again. She blinked at him and narrowed her eyes slightly, looking at his face closely as though trying to see his intentions.

"Why should you?" she asked. Her tone implied that she thought it was a simple question.

"Because you’re a part of…" His voice trailed off as he realized again that he didn’t know what to say. She tilted her head, looking at him again with that curious expression. Fuck it, he decided…he was just going to say it. "You’re a part of the routine."

"The what?" she said, sounding slightly startled.

"The routine…the continuity…the scenery," he said, waving his hand to indicate the club around them and then shaking his head slightly. "I know maybe it sounds like an insult but I don’t mean it that way. Listen…I notice every single person who comes into this bar. That’s just the way I am. But I don’t just *notice* you. I don’t know how it happened, but…you’re a part of what it is to be here. An important part."

He glanced down at the table, blushing slightly as he realized that he couldn’t stop the flow of embarrassing words that were coming out of his mouth.

"You’re the first thing I look for when I come here every night. While I’m playing I can’t keep my eyes off of you. I feel like…I feel like there’s something about you, some kind of connection…"

Now that was carrying a bit too far; he knew that much. It sounded like some kind of horrible pick-up line, no matter how sincere he was, so he bit his lip and swallowed the pain to keep from letting out anything else. In the silence that followed, he finally glanced up to see her reaction, and blinked in surprise when he saw the way her hand shook ever so slightly against her glass. Anyone else might not have noticed it. And her eyes…for a moment they looked glazed.

"A connection…you say?" Her voice too was a bit dazed, as though she was slowly soaking in his words. Then, finally, she blinked and came back to herself, green eyes focusing on him clearly and voice firming. "Well, fair enough."

That curiosity was still there in her eyes…it made him want to say something else. And besides, he knew all too well that he’d said enough that the game was up. She had to realize that something was off about him, now.

"Listen…" he began, closing his eyes and focusing himself before he pressed ahead. When he opened his eyes and found her still looking at him as though she *wanted* to hear what he had to say, he leaned forward and spoke to her the way he wanted to…sincerely, intensely, the uncertainty he felt nakedly displayed in his voice and eyes.

"My name is Seiya Kou. They tell me I used to be some kind of…celebrity. A pop idol or something, in some kind of band called the Three Lights. But I don’t know about any of that. My head…is empty. I have…they call it ‘amnesia’, you know? I don’t know what happened to me, but except for the last year, I don’t have any memories. All I have is this, now, this place, this routine. Everything is routine to me…I don’t think about things, but…I think about you. That’s why…"

Once he started talking it all came out of him like a flood, so he wasn’t sure how long he might have kept talking while she sat there and stared at him, a little stunned by what she had released, except that right then he heard someone calling his name and he remembered that he was supposed to have started his second set long since.

"Aa, ikenee!" he said, getting to his feet, and then he glanced at her to find her still staring at him. He grimaced, running a hand back through his hair. "Ano…gomen ne. I didn’t mean to…but now I have to…"

"I know," she said, her voice somewhat hoarse as she finally spoke up, lifting her eyes to meet his. He felt his stomach clench. "I know. Just go."

And she turned back to her drink. He felt a bit staggered, losing the strength of her bright green gaze. But now wasn’t the time for that sort of thing. He went back to the piano quickly and started playing something slow, something that would calm the shaking of his hands.

He only glanced at her once, but that once was enough to make his heart race. Even though he only saw her briefly before she turned away and he couldn’t see her around the other customers, in that brief instant of eye contact, he was sure he could see a single, silvery teardrop hanging on her cheek.

It was beautiful.

*****

After he’d finished work at one o’clock, he moved to the back, to the booth where he’d noticed her waiting. She’d retreated there midway through the evening, and she hadn’t budged since.

"Na…" he began as usual when he approached her, but this time he caught the flash of irritation in her eyes quick enough and corrected himself in time. "Eto…Yaten."

"Sore de ii," she muttered, then waved idly to the seat across from herself.

He sat down a bit nervously.

"Listen…ano…Yaten. I’m really sorry about all of that earlier. I didn’t mean to…"

"Damare," she said quietly, her eyes remaining turned downward, and he did as she had ordered, wincing.

She cleared her throat and stirred her drink—something strange and blue this time—and then leaned back, finally lifting her eyes. She looked…so tired. So fragile, suddenly, as though a single touch would reveal the hidden cracks and she would crumble.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she said in the same hushed tone of voice, and he blinked. He hadn’t expected those words.

And then he noticed the other emotion deep within her eyes…something that looked very much like sympathy. Had she always looked at him with those sad eyes before?

"Oh…so…you knew before, na?" he said, unable to help the bitterness that entered his voice. "I guess it’s not too hard to hear about…how I am, around here."

"Yes, I knew," she said, offering a slight smile. "I didn’t ask about you, though. I wasn’t rude or impertinent or a busybody. But I knew."

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

"What made you decide to tell me?" she asked, brushing a lock of silver hair away from her face. Her fingers were beautiful—small, like everything about her, but beautiful, tapering into the finest points, with perfectly manicured nails.

He cleared his throat and tried to think of a better way to explain, but she tilted her head and offered one of her own.

"Is it what you said earlier? I’ve become a part of your routine. I’m compelling enough to you, somehow, that I’ve entered into your…continuity, I believe you said…without disturbing it?"

"Well…yeah," he said, blinking a few times. He hadn’t expected her to understand it so…completely. But she really seemed to. He could see it in her eyes; she knew what he was talking about. But how…?

"I see," she said, leaning back again, her eyes traveling over his face, looking at him so closely that he felt uncomfortable.

"So…" he began, but she cut him off again.

"Tell me more," she said, leaning her chin against one fisted hand as she looked at him curiously. "Tell me more about you…about what you remember."

He swallowed sharply. That kind of thing was…and besides, she…

"But I…"

"Just tell me," she said in that beautiful soft, low, seductive tone and…well, he couldn’t do anything else.

"Well…I…I guess it’s best to…start at the beginning."

So he started at the beginning.

*****

"I woke up in a hospital in a small town outside of Tokyo…I don’t even remember exactly where anymore. They said I’d been there for weeks…that I’d been in a coma. They said I had a head injury. They called me ‘John Doe’. For a long time, that was all I knew, because…I didn’t know who I was, or where I was, or what had happened to me. It was one of the nurses who first recognized me. She said she was a fan…you know, of that band, the Three Lights. She recognized me as the lead singer, she said, so they told me my name was Seiya Kou. So then that was all I knew…that I was Seiya Kou, some singer, and that I was nineteen years old. Before that, there was nothing.

"And you know…they said there were strange things about me. Like, they found out my age from the fan club information about the Three Lights. But they couldn’t find any other records about me anywhere. Birth records or medical records or anything. They couldn’t find any family or anyone to contact. The closest thing they had to an emergency contact was the other members of the band, those Three Lights…two people I didn’t know. But they couldn’t find them. They sent out notices and stuff, but I guess the band had been kind of dead for a couple of years and nobody really knew where the members were. Anyway…they never came, those other two guys. I don’t know who they are…they never came.

"Anyway, when people found out that a former celebrity was in the hospital with amnesia and all…well, reporters came. It was horrible…I didn’t know what to say to them. I didn’t know what they were talking about. I didn’t know anything about this guy Seiya Kou, or the Three Lights, or anything like that…I didn’t know about anything *at all*. Luckily by then I’d started to get better, and it wasn’t too long before they released me."

"When were you released from the hospital?"

He caught his breath, surprised by the interruption to his tale. He glanced at her and was further startled to see the seriousness in her intense green eyes as she watched him, her hands folded in front of her mouth. She seemed to be listening to him really sincerely.

"At the end of October last year," he said, a bit questioningly.

"Do you remember the date?" she pressed, voice softening slightly.

"The 24th or 25th, I think," he said, rubbing idly at his temple. "It’s hard for me to remember exactly things that happened around that time."

"I know," she said, closing her eyes for a moment. "I’m sorry. Go ahead."

"Well…you pretty much know what happened after that. I started working here, and this is my life now. This club, working here…this has become all I know, now."

Those eyes were on him again, so sharp…scrutinizing every word. It felt invasive but somehow he didn’t mind too much.

"There’s a gap, isn’t there?" she asked, her tone mild as she dropped her hands away from their folded position and stirred her drink. "Between the time when you left the hospital and the time you started working here…there’s a gap of a few months, isn’t there? What did you do during that time?"

"Oh…that," he said, rubbing the back of his head and cringing a bit. "Well…I had nowhere to go when I left the hospital, you know. No family or friends to take me in. I had no money. So…for a while I lived on the streets. I was…busking, they call it. Playing music, sometimes singing, on the streets, to make some money so I could eat. And while I was doing that, I realized that it was really important to me. Music, I mean. When I’m playing music or listening to really good music, I get kind of…carried away. I guess I can’t explain it, but…I don’t have to focus on…inside. I don’t have to think about how there’s nothing…in here."

He tapped on his temple to illustrate his point and saw the way her eyes followed his motions carefully.

"Well…anyway…that’s how I ended up here. I came here looking for a job when they lost their last pianist. And…that’s that."

"I see," she said quietly. She said that a lot. It was the type of thing people were always saying when they had nothing better to say, but somehow when she said it, it seemed like she was serious…as though she really did see. She really seemed to understand. That sympathy in her eyes was real…it didn’t bother him like the others. It wasn’t empty like the others.

When she kept looking at him with that same curious look, he had to laugh.

"That’s all there is to say about me…about my life…sorry it’s not more interesting. But that’s all there is in here." He pointed to his head again.

"I told you, you have nothing to apologize for," she said with a soft sigh, and he watched as she slowly leaned back in her seat. "So…that’s how it was."

"Yeah. I…never found out what happened to me. Why I’m like this," he said, shrugging and offering a sheepish smile.

"But as long as the routine remains intact, that’s all right with you?" she inquired, the sadness in her eyes seeming to pulse for a moment, tearing into his brain.

"Something like that, yeah." He didn’t sound certain. But he was never certain about anything, really.

She held his gaze for a moment in total silence.

"Well, then," she said, after that moment had passed, and she got to her feet and gathered her purse.

He blinked.

"O…oi! That’s it?"

"That’s it…you said so yourself," she said, glancing at him and then smirking suddenly when she saw the sideswiped look on his face. "It’s late, Seiya. We’ll talk again tomorrow."

"Oh…" he said, intelligently, as she walked away. He watched her go.

Again tomorrow…?

It wasn’t exactly routine, but…he couldn’t say he minded. It had felt good to say all those things to her. For the first time he had told someone everything, and it had felt good. He had always thought it would make him upset or angry to say it all openly like that. But her eyes were so understanding…

And it still didn’t feel wrong. It might have been out of routine, and it might have made him think, but he was thinking about her more than about himself. He was thinking about *her*. So for now, it was good.

It was good.

*****

So the next day after his first set he sought her out again. She was in a booth in the back again, as though she wanted to be alone. He approached her with some hesitation because of this, but when she waved him over without even looking up, he realized that he was expected.

"Sit down," she said, gesturing to the place across from herself.

He slid into the seat and folded his hands on the table, glancing at her, a little taken aback by how boldly she met his eyes in return.

"So," she said, in that low tone of command he was getting used to, her green eyes fixed on him with that familiar look of curiosity, "…tell me more."

"But…I told you, there’s nothing more…" he began, only to hush when she shook her head, offering him a slight smile.

"No…there is still much to tell. Tell me about…the emptiness."

That made him catch his breath, surprised and instantly uneasy.

"You said that you feel a nothingness…an emptiness…within your mind, didn’t you?" she asked, lifting a hand to touch her own temple, one silvery eyebrow arching along with the motion.

"Well…yeah…but…"

"What exactly does that mean?" she questioned, tilting her head and pursing her lips as she peered at him.

"It…" He swallowed, hard, and then frowned, his voice hardening a bit as he struggled for a way to put it in words she would understand. "It means just what I said…"

Again, she cut him off.

"Yes, but you have thoughts, don’t you? You have feelings. You have the capacity to remember the present. Your mind isn’t empty."

His throat was completely dry; he knew his voice, when it came out, was unusually hoarse.

"I…I…"

"So what does it mean, to say that your mind has this well of nothingness within it?" she pressed, eyes narrowing slightly.

He choked on his response again, and because he could think of nothing else to do, he ran from the responsibility of trying again by dropping his eyes from her piercing gaze. He stared at the tabletop for a moment, then closed his eyes tightly to calm himself before he looked back up at her. She was watching him with that same intensive curiosity.

"You…you cried for me last night, didn’t you?" he said softly, the words coming to his lips of their own accord. He watched the surprise blossom across her face and felt some satisfaction that he could startle her as well. "Why…why did you do that?"

She leaned stiffly back against the seat of the booth, eyeing him with a look that seemed almost annoyed.

"Aren’t you just trying to avoid the subject?" she asked, her tone mildly impatient.

He frowned, determined.

"Why shouldn’t I ask about you, too?"

Her face remained frozen in that same vaguely disapproving look for a few seconds before it melted into a slightly self-deprecating smile.

"Fair enough," she said, allowing her shoulders to relax and closing her eyes as she let out a soft sigh. "So you saw that, did you? I…didn’t want you to."

She opened her eyes again to meet his. There was something soft and lovely in her eyes, something he hadn’t seen there yet. He could feel some of that familiar heat; it made him feel a little light-headed.

"It was beautiful," he breathed. "Your tear…"

And without intention, he was reaching up towards her cheek, towards the place where he had seen that perfect tear, his fingertips outstretched, seeking her pale skin. He only came to himself just in time, when his fingers were hovering just over her cheek. He blinked and felt his face go red as he snatched his hand back. He noticed that she didn’t react, however; she hadn’t shied away or moved to slap his hand away. She just sat there, eyeing him with that same soft look.

"Suman," he said a bit shakily, using the hand that had disobeyed him to run his fingers through his hair, messing it up a bit. He glanced into her eyes briefly, testing the waters, and found that she didn’t seem to be angry. "Sometimes I think I don’t feel…the way other people feel."

She nodded, as though she understood.

"Maybe you don’t," she said, lifting her hands. "But would that be wrong?"

To that he had no reply…his mouth hung open slightly as he tried to come up with one, but nothing came out. What could he say to that?

She smiled, a surprisingly gentle smile, and gestured towards the piano.

"Go…it’s time for your set. Come here again after you’re finished work," she said, and then she turned her attention to her drink and it seemed as though she’d forgotten him.

So, there was nothing he could do but get up and go over and play his set, and hope that the music would stop his mind’s reeling.

*****

She was waiting for him again; it was obvious by the posture she had adopted, as though she was waiting, trying not to be impatient, for someone she had made a date with to show up. Thinking about it that way made his ears feel a little hot.

"Sorry I’m late…I had some things to talk about with the manager…" he began. Even as he started to speak, she started to shake her head.

"It’s fine. Just sit."

So he sat.

"So…you were telling me about this darkness, this emptiness, you see in your mind," she said, before he’d even really settled into his seat.

/Huh?/

"I was?" he said questioningly, and she leaned forward, placing her chin on one delicately fisted hand, and nodded.

"You were about to, weren’t you?"

"Well…" he blinked and ran a hand through his hair, this time out of mild frustration. "I told you…there’s really nothing to say."

"And I told you there’s much more to tell," she said, shrugging one shoulder slightly, as though that was simply that.

"Well…what do you want me to say?" he asked, voice lifting slightly with the exasperation he could feel rapidly building. "How can I talk about nothing?"

"Just *talk*," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. She too seemed to be becoming frustrated at this point. "Don’t worry about it so much."

He gritted his teeth for a few seconds in silence before he leaned forward and caught her eyes, staring into them with the intensity she had earlier used on him, thinking maybe he could see into her the way she so easily seemed to be able to see into him.

"Look…what is it you want me to say? What do you want me to do? What the hell does it *matter* to you, anyway?"

His breath was becoming a bit ragged now; he knew he was more upset than he should be, or at least more upset than he had intended to become in front of her.

"What do you mean, what does it matter?" she asked, looking, for a moment, genuinely surprised, as though she hadn’t realized quite how invasive her line of questioning was.

He couldn’t help but smirk at that, shaking his head.

"All these questions, ‘tell me this, tell me that’, pressing me so much…what difference does it make to you!?"

One of his hands had closed into a fist against the table, the way he felt like clenching his spine—curling up, away from her, away from everything, when things felt this strange and intense.

"What difference…" she murmured, and then she leveled her eyes at him and raised her voice. "Well…it’s a challenge, isn’t it?"

That…threw him for an absolute loop.

"…huh?"

"You *were* challenging me, weren’t you?" she said, batting her eyelashes at him briefly before she smiled ever-so-slightly. "Why would you have told me all that you have so far, not enough to know you but enough to wonder…if you didn’t want me to find out the rest?"

It took a few breaths for the loop to come full circle and his eyes to clear, and then he glanced down at his hands thoughtfully.

He hadn’t really realized it until she’d said it just then, but…yeah. Her logic was pretty flawless, wasn’t it? He had challenged her that way, hadn’t he? Just the way she’d challenged him.

He glanced up at her.

"I…guess I did," he said, hearing the wonder in his own voice and giving her a small, sheepish grin.

She smiled in return, if a bit wickedly, her eyes sparkling.

"And do I look like someone who can resist a challenge?" she said, folding her arms over her breasts and tilting her head to look him squarely in the eyes.

"No…I guess you don’t," he said, and then he shook his head, his grin turning self-deprecating. "All right…all right. I…I’ll try."

"Kowai no ka?" she murmured, no particular emotion in her tone. "Osoroshii no ka?"

"…Yes."

She didn’t speak again, but he felt something a moment later, when he heard the sound of her movement and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her get up and pass by the table. It took him a moment to realize what it was—that it was her touch, the warm feeling of her fingers against his hair for the barest moment, stroking it back into place with such ease it seemed as though she’d done it hundreds of times before.

What was that warmth in her touch, that security in her hand…? Why did a single brush of her fingertips send the darkness scurrying for shelter…?

It didn’t last, though. He was up most of that night, sitting at the window of his bedroom staring out at the stars, trying to keep the blackness at bay, his hands clutched to his head, trying to clamp the flood down. Why were such horrors waiting for him in his sleep…what was there, in that nothingness…?

What had he done, making a promise like that…?

*****

END PART TWO