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The visit had surprised me -- certainly, I had not expected her to come to me, and I had never even considered going to her.

Yet, as I watched the figure leave my estate, I felt a small degree of relief. It had been something of a remarkable comfort to see the woman again. Yes, it had admittedly been pleasing in an aesthetic sense, also. I had almost forgotten how beautiful she was, with all that dark green hair, those piercing eyes...

Even though she had treated me somewhat badly the last time we had encountered each other -- sixteen prolonged years to me, god knows how long to her -- I had to admit that I had retained a deep respect for her, just as my brother had. Besides, she knew things I did not, held things that I could not.

Not to mention she and I had one thing in common.

I don't even remember how I found it out, but I knew that she had once -- and possibly still did, though I doubted it -- held a candle for the Neo-King of Crystal Tokyo. Similar to the way I held a candle for the Neo-Queen. It was one of the very few things we had in common.

But I had been glad to see Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Pluto again, despite the differences we had had over the years. Saffir had told me about her, given that he knew things I didn't because he messed about with the timelines far more than I ever did. Saffir had always spoken her name with reverence and respect, and even though that did confuse me in part, some of his esteem for the Guardian of Time had worn off on me.

She had come to my private home on a strictly business-related matter. It was essentially Petz's fault she showed up in my living room the evening of the day she had visited me.

My eyes narrowed slightly at the memory of Petz's visit. I had to take a sip of the liquor in my glass, even though it had a bitter, acrid taste to it. Strange. It had tasted like that ever since Petz had brought up Saffir's dislike of my vice.

Turning my wandering thoughts back to Petz, I sighed. I hadn't expected her to ever come. I had known that she had a son, a son who was most likely my nephew. However, I suspected from the beginning that she would want to keep her son away from my influence, and so I had never attempted to contact her.

Even though I often wondered what my brother's son would be like.

Pluto's visit had essentially told me that I had been wise to stay away -- because now, she was warning me to keep away from the last true member of my Family, besides myself.

Her words had been plain, to the point. Even though I hated what she was saying, I understood it. There was no way I wanted to hurt Koutaishi as much as I had hurt my brother. It was that guilt that I had carried for the last sixteen years of my life, and it was that guilt that I knew would keep me from breaking my promise.

Well, that and the woman sitting at the other end of the room.

She was not paying a lot of attention to me, she seemed far more interested in the book she held in her hands, one she had taken from one of my shelves. However, I had the unnerving sensation that she was watching me very closely, she just wasn't making it obvious she was doing so.

I walked past where she was curled up in the plush chair, and into the next room, the library, as I had nicknamed it. It was full to bursting point with paper, folders, books and the like, but it was to my desk that I now went.

I opened the locked drawer by manner of a key, and I took from it a single picture album. Due to the passing of years, it had become somewhat worn and shabby on the outside and around the edges, but I didn't care. The inside contents were still in pristine condition, and that was what really counted in the end.

I didn't crack the book open then. Instead, I moved through the rooms, past where the woman was still seated, and moved onwards towards my own rooms.

My house was modest, given the small fortune I had accumulated. However, even though it was small granted my wealth, it was larger than what most average citizens of Tokyo inhabited. It was a tasteful house set in its own well-tended gardens, with a sprawling ground level and a smaller top story with a deck that I could spend evenings on. Even though there was no view, considering I was at ground level in a well-secluded home, I only ever wanted to see my gardens and the stars anyway.

Once inside my room, I stared at the picture on the wall, the picture that took pride of place. The moonlight spilled through the windows -- a benefit of my enclosing gardens meant that I was shielded from the city lights, to a degree. However, the moonlight seemed to follow me everywhere.

The picture had always been housed here, where no one else could see it. No woman had been in my bedroom, and it was not because I couldn't have them if I wanted them. No, it was because simply, I was still in love with Serenity, no matter how ridiculous that was.

It didn't matter, though -- it would be difficult to explain away the picture, whether it be to a colleague, a date, or otherwise.

It featured two people, similar in height and stature, though one was shorter and more slightly built than the other. Both stood before an ornately carved throne, a strange, deeply coloured part of the cosmos between two columns being the back drop. Even though that was all the viewer would be able to see, it was so very obviously unearthly that it would be difficult to explain.

Even if the person did not recognise me as being the taller of the pair. It was possible that they might not, at first. I stood with an arrogance and a haughty stance that was a lot less subtle these days, wearing a peculiarly aristocratic outfit. I stared out of that picture with a forceful look, an obvious potentate in some shape or seeming.

There was little chance they would recognise my companion. A young man with troubled, dusky blue eyes, and hair that was almost the same colour as his gloomy eyes. His uniform was a lesser one than mine, his stance not quite as conceited. However, he had an air of gentle elegance about him, one that belied his own important standing in the hierarchy.

Even if they did not recognise him, I suspected that they would indeed see a family resemblance between us. Even if Saffir had different colouring, we were built in a similar fashion, and were too obviously related.

I must have stared at the picture for some time, because it seemed like hours had passed when she interrupted my thoughts.

"That's your brother, isn't it?"

"Yes," I replied slowly, turning to face my gaoler. I clutched the album to my chest, as if I expected her to try and take it from me. However, the dark-haired girl was more intrigued by the large portrait than by anything else.

"He was very handsome," she said finally, looking back to me with her large, luminescent eyes. I had been around her for several hours now, and I still could not quite pin a colour on them, except that they were dark. "You must miss him very much."

"I do indeed, Sailor Saturn," I replied stiffly, before indicating the door. "If you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all," she replied easily, leaving the room with me trailing her. She called back over her shoulder "And you can simply call me Hotaru -- after all, I am not actually in my Senshi form, and it makes little sense for you to call me anything else, Hirosada-san."

She looked forward again, flipping her shoulder length dark hair over her shoulder as she did so. She returned back to her chair in the living room, and without really thinking, I took a seat near her. I retrieved my half-filled glass from where I had left it, the book remaining untouched in my lap for a moment while I looked to my companion.

She looked very young, only about nineteen or so, though I knew she must be older. From what Pluto had said about the activities of the Senshi, Hotaru had been about twelve fourteen years ago. But it seemed none of the Senshi had really aged over time, even though the sisters and I had.

But Saffir... he would stay forever young.

My hands were trembling, and I did not open the book, for fear that it would shake also, showing the silent Senshi my pain. Not that she seemed to be paying much attention to me -- she seemed much more intrigued by whatever it was that she was reading.

I still wondered why it was that she had come to be the one whom Pluto had left to "keep an eye" on me. Even though she gave off an aura of unsettling power -- I had already garnered the impression that she was more powerful than the other Senshi combined, with the possible exception of Sailor Moon -- there was something... odd about the girl. Innocent, almost. I doubted if she would be overly violent, but I decided I didn't really want to test the theory. Hotaru may have been a nice, pleasant person, but given the fact that she had introduced herself with: "I am the messenger from the depths of death, carrier of the protection of the planet of ruin, Saturn. The soldier of silence, Sailor Saturn," it was enough to make me wary of her.

The words of her introduction ran through my head as I wondered why she was my warden. I could understand why it was not Sailor Moon herself, nor her guardian Senshi. However, I would have thought Uranus or Neptune more suited to the job, given my impressions of the pair when they had accompanied Saturn here to leave her within the confines of my home. Certainly, I would have thought twice before crossing the masculine Senshi.

Hotaru finally felt my stare, looking up from her book. "Is something amiss?"

"God, no, what could possibly be amiss?" I asked, avoiding looking into her eyes. She had strange eyes, that girl. Were they purple? If they were, they were much deeper, much darker than my own. But there was something troubled in those eyes that reminded me of my brother. Taking a hurried sip from the glass, I looked away from the girl, preferring to look instead to the picture album that had become my most cherished possession.

What I found infinitely tragic about the pictures contained within was the fact that all of them were rigidly posed, taken on formal occasions by stuffy, pretentious fools. I suppose at the time, it seemed perfectly normal, but now, there honestly wasn't much I wouldn't give to have a picture of my little brother smiling. He had done it so rarely...

And there was nothing I wouldn't give to have my brother alive again, and at my side, as he should be.

I moved hurriedly past the childhood pictures, but not quickly enough. I still saw my sweet little brother make that gradual transition from a quietly cheerful child to a deeply troubled young man. I tried to ignore the pain I could now clearly see in his eyes, instead trying to see only what was happy about him.

I had a fear that one day, I would forget what my brother looked like.

Some of the later pictures were strange to look at, even stranger to remember the circumstances under which they had been taken. A picture of Saffir, Esmeraude and Rubeus reminded me with a jolt of the dislike between the three. I couldn't safely say that any of those three had liked each other. Esmeraude and Saffir had never made any secret of their mutual hatred, and from the way Esmeraude talked about Rubeus and vice versa, I rather suspected they had a similar relationship. Certainly, Saffir had had little patience for the red haired menace, but I had been able to see worth in all three of them, even if they had not had the benefits of my vision.

Saffir was in the middle, Rubeus on his right, Esmeraude on the left. She had her fan spread, her face as manipulatively beautiful as it had been the last time I had seen her. However, she stood as far away from Saffir as the confines of the photographer's viewfinder had allowed.

Rubeus's cerise eyes were narrowed, his arms folded over his chest. He seemed to be giving the other two a sideways glare, without actually looking at them.

Saffir, however, was an enigma. Hands at his sides, he stared directly out of the frame, his eyes glassy and emotionless. It was only now as I looked at the pictures from sixteen years ago that I truly saw Saffir's abject misery, hidden beneath a facade of compliant submission.

How could I have missed it?

With a sigh, I closed the book. This meant that I finally noticed the silent presence at my elbow.

I looked to where Hotaru was kneeling beside my chair, my own violet eyes weary and tired. "What are you doing?"

Hotaru seemed overly intrigued by the closed album in my hands, so much so that she didn't actually hear me the first time I spoke to her. I had to repeat myself. "Tomoe-san? What are you doing?"

Hotaru jumped, and then turned her wide, dark eyes on me. "This is your family album?"

She tried to pry the book out of my hands, she wasn't terribly successful. My hold on it resembled a death grip, and she really wasn't trying very hard. She gave up rather quickly, still keeping those unnerving, shadowy eyes on me. "I take it you're wondering what your nephew is like?"

"Can you blame me?" I snapped, clutching the book to my chest protectively. "I still don't understand why your friend Meiou-san will not let me fraternise with the child -- after all, her Queen is the one who healed me. If she doesn't believe I am healed, it doesn't say much for her belief in your leader and her ginzuishou."

Hotaru sighed, and turned her eyes away. "You don't understand, do you?"

My eyes narrowed. "Understand what?"

Her eyes lowered to her lap, in which her hands began to twist and turn nervously. "Setsuna-mama doesn't want to disrupt the timelines any more than they already have been."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my annoyance deteriorating in the face of my confusion.

"You were supposed to die days after your brother did," she replied simply, and I marvelled at her calmness, the way her voice didn't falter, the way her tone stayed even. I doubt I could have done the same thing if I was in her position. "Setsuna-mama allowed you to live due to... circumstances."

I was taken aback, and suddenly, I felt anger well up in my heart. "Circumstances?" I shouted, leaping to my feet. Hotaru stayed kneeling on the floor, staring up at me as I yelled at her. "What the Hell is that supposed to mean? If I am supposed to be dead, like my brother, then why didn't you let me die?!" I can't describe my anger at that point -- but there was just something heartbreakingly obscene about knowing that for the past sixteen years, I had lived with the guilt of knowing I had caused my brother's death... yet, I too should be dead.

Because of her silent staring at me while I shouted god-knows-what at her, ranting and railing, I finally had to stop, breathing hard and with difficulty. She then stood, placing a delicate hand on my shoulder. My arms were crossed over my chest, holding that damn book as close to my heart as possible.

"Demando-sama, she let you live because you tried so hard to keep your brother alive. She thought that redeemed you, this selfless act. Even though you failed, she thought it warranted giving you another chance, like the four sisters were given."

I stared at her, dumbstruck. "But then... why was Saffir never given a second chance? You obviously gave me the opportunity to live again because I loved my brother enough to try to bring him back, to risk my chances of world domination... and my brother did a similar thing. He placed himself and the woman he loved in the most gross danger, all because of me..."

Hotaru shook her head, looking sorrowful. "It's not the same."

"I don't understand."

She lowered those wide, dark eyes, and she sighed. "Saffir was always meant to die, Demando-sama. There was nothing you could do to change that, as you saw -- for you realise, don't you, that the doppelganger you met days before Saffir died was your future self? In that Demando's world, Saffir had been murdered in a similar way, and he returned to the past to change things. However, even though it brought about slightly different outcomes, Saffir still died. It is the way things must proceed; his death was predestined, and he had to die then."

"And my death was not... predestined?"

She shrugged. "Setsuna-mama could alter those timelines because your presence is neither malicious nor intrusive. Saffir's would have been."

Confused, I shook my head in disbelief. "How could that be..?"

"Because of who you are, you are able to stay away from the Senshi. Saffir would have always been a part of our lives in a small way because he is... different. Even though he was born into a world of darkness, he remained bright, always doubting the ambition of your evil heart. This quality would have meant an involvement in our lives... and simply, Setsuna-mama could not allow this."

My head was spinning. "But the Sisters... they turned good, yet you let them live..."

Hotaru smiled. "Your brother was different. He could have changed a good deal of things, had he remained. It's not unusual, though. Many of our former enemies could have altered time, so they could not be allowed to live. Your brother was only one of them -- but his death is also his reward." She smiled slightly, almost shyly. "Demando-sama, your brother now rests in peace, free from the world that only restrained him, pushed him down and crushed his spirit."

I felt as if my own heart were breaking as she said that. "Do you mean to say that it is partly my fault that my brother was so unhappy where he was?"

She took the book from my hands, and opened it. She flicked gently through the pages until she almost reached the end. Pictures that had been taken not long before Rubeus had taken the four Ayakashi Sisters with him to the twentieth century.

They were two photos that took up each A4 sized page, each depicting my brother. One showed him with Esmeraude, the other with me. I shook my head, my thoughts too mushy and clouded to draw any connection between these pictures and the thread of our conversation. "What are you trying to show me, Senshi?"

Hotaru used one long, delicate finger to point to Saffir, in the portrait with Esmeraude. "Look at your brother's eyes, Demando-sama. How would you describe his emotions, his expression?"

I looked closely, biting my lip to hold back some of the long unshed tears I still had to cry for my brother. I hadn't cried for him since the day I had "buried" him. "He looks miserable, not to put too fine a point on it," I almost snapped. "You can see quite obviously that he doesn't want to be anywhere near that woman."

She nodded, then indicated the other picture. It was of Saffir and me, both of us staring out of the frame with a blank stare characteristic of the ruling class. "Now, look here."

"There's nothing in this picture," I replied with a touch of impatience. "In those kinds of pictures, we'e supposed to look almost like statues. You should know that, after all, you're some kind of princess, aren't you?"

Not quite smiling, Hotaru took my hand and placed it onto the picture. "No," she berated gently. "Look harder."

Against my will, I did. And I drew in a small breath. It was amazing, how this girl had seen in this picture what I had not. Even though Saffir's facial expression was as unreadable as my own, there was something caught in those dusky blue eyes.

"If you notice, Saffir only ever looks that way when he is near you." Hotaru's melodious voice seemed to come to me from some sort of bizarre heaven -- indeed, it resounded with celestiality, the words seemed to send a sweet, healing wave washing over my body. "Saffir loved you, Demando-sama. In some ways, that was the love that destroyed him, because he became so attached to you, always wanting to please, to make you proud. In other ways, that was what saved him, what redeemed him. And even though he cared deeply for Petz, you were the love of his life."

I watched those dark eyes as the world began to swim around me. "He died for me?"

"Your brother lived for you, Demando-sama. It was only appropriate that he should die for you, too."

I drew in a shuddering breath; I was having immense trouble keeping my breathing at a liveable level. "So, his death really was my fault?"

"Demando-sama, you didn't make him love you. He admired you because in his eyes, you were the closest thing to God. Nemesis was a cold, bleak world, and people like Saffir need someone to believe in to survive. You were his older brother, someone who was always there for him. Naturally enough, you came to be the one he relied on. He came to love you more than he loved his own safety, and that was hardly your fault."

I looked down at the picture of my little brother. How come I never realised just what a special person you were, Saffir? How loyal you were, how strong? I always thought that I was the more able, the competent of us both. I think I may have been proved wrong in the end.

She then took the book from me, closing it gently. "We keep you away from Koutaishi because we would not have you make of him what you made of you brother. You can be forgiven for your brother's death -- he was always meant to die. But we will not let you near Koutaishi. You can not ruin his life, too."

"Ruin his life too?" I asked dully.

She seemed apologetic as she stood, brushing off her black dress. "Maybe I'm over-dramatising the situation, Demando-sama. Maybe you should go to your nephew. But before you go to Koutaishi, you should realise that he is his father's son."

She then left me alone, saying that she was retiring for the night.

I didn't go to sleep that night. I didn't think I would be able to handle my usual cache of nightmares that evening. Not now that I had even more reasons to have them.

To Chapter Three

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