Chapter Text
A Young Girl's Sailor Outfit
Special thanks to, DrkShdow, Yertosaurus, and my lovely sister Artemis for bouncing ideas and edits, even when I go on side tangents with crazy ideas like this one.
I have lived only one life in this world.
I was born here. I learned to walk on these floors, scraped my knees on these sidewalks, rode my bike down these exact slopes. I ate too many sweets, complained about homework, and pretended to giggle with the other girls at school like any normal Tokyo child.
But behind every clumsy trip, every nervous smile, every childish outburst I carefully manufactured…there has always been me.
A consciousness older than this body.
A mind forged in boardrooms, trenches, and the whisper-thin edge of mortality.
A veteran of politics, warfare, and—most importantly—divine harassment.
My earliest years here were the only ones where I truly let myself relax. Toddlers are supposed to be strange. When I stared at adults with too much comprehension or solved puzzles I shouldn't have understood, people simply laughed and said I was precocious.
But at four years old, I remembered.
All of it.
My first life—on Earth.
My second—on the battlefield.
My third—in space.
My fourth—...
My deaths.
My rebirths.
Being X.
The liar who continues the cycle.
The deity who insists on interfering.
Manipulating.
Testing.
Punishing me whenever I dare stand out.
And that was when I understood my mistake across lifetimes:
Every time I rose, every time I excelled, every time I tried to carve out stability or competence—I was noticed.
And when I was noticed, I was used.
Drafted.
Exploited.
"Chosen."
Thrown into overwhelming battles I never agreed to fight.
Denied peace. Denied anonymity.
No matter what world I landed in, excellence was a beacon—and enemies always found me.
So this time, I decided something new.
I would hide.
Not physically. That never lasts. But in plain sight.
I built my cover identity brick by brick, day by day, year by year.
I practiced every expression. Every stumble. Every cheerful squeal. Every nervous cry.
To the world, I became Usagi Tsukino—the crybaby, the glutton, the slacker, the harmless airhead.
It took effort. Real, exhausting effort.
Children learn fast, but I learned faster, and if I didn't sabotage myself constantly, I would stand out again. And if I stood out—
Someone would "choose" me again. Some war would find me.
Some god would drag me into another destiny I didn't ask for.
So I perfected the performance.
Laugh too loudly. Cry too easily. Trip over my own shoes. Forget my pencil case.
Score low—but not suspiciously low—on tests.
Appear sweet, emotional, fragile, slow.
"Usagi" was soft. "Usagi" was harmless. "Usagi" was not worth manipulating, weaponizing, or awakening.
My parents never questioned a thing.
They adored their bright, silly daughter.
Teachers sighed but shrugged.
Friends rolled their eyes but accepted me.
Nobody suspected the truth.
Meanwhile, my real mind remained awake. Observing. Calculating. Preparing.
Always watching for the moment Being X would find me again.
That day came sooner than I wanted. It always did.
This morning, I woke with a jolt—my entire body tense, senses screaming. A pressure in the air, subtle but undeniable, like the low hum that precedes artillery fire.
Not physical. Not environmental. Divine.
The same presence that stalked me across lifetimes.
I sat up slowly.
He found me.
And the peaceful, empty hope I'd nurtured for fourteen years—died in an instant.
I got dressed. Braided my hair. Ate breakfast. Stubbed my toe on the way out. Played the part flawlessly—accidentally crying from pain helped sell the act. I left the house late, intentionally, so no one would question why I wasn't eager to get to school.
And then I saw it.
A black cat lying motionless on the sidewalk.
Not sleeping. Not injured. Pretending.
The kind of pretending I recognized instantly.
A familiar.
A messenger.
A divine agent.
My stomach dropped.
"Oh hell," I whispered. "He sent one of these again."
The cat lifted its head. Golden eyes locked onto mine with unnervingly intelligent focus.
Absolutely not.
I pivoted on my heel and walked away. Fast. I refused to engage with divine bait. Not again.
I felt the stare on my back before I heard the soft patter of paws. I kept walking. The cat followed. I sped up. It sped up. I ducked through an alley. It slithered after me. I circled behind a newspaper stand. It sat directly in front of it, blocking the exit like a tiny devilish gargoyle.
Finally, I snapped.
"STOP FOLLOWING ME!"
The cat froze. Then, horrifyingly, it spoke.
"You can see me?"
I froze as well.
Talking animal. Magical aura. Scripted delivery.
This was Being X's style down to the punctuation.
"I knew it," I said. "I knew he wouldn't leave me alone for one lifetime."
The cat blinked. "He…?"
"You're a familiar," I said sharply. "A messenger from that so-called god. What's your designation? Surveillance unit? Behavioral proctor? Fate enforcer?"
It recoiled as if I'd insulted its ancestors. "I—I'm Luna!"
"I did not ask for your name," I said. "Your allegiance."
"My—what? Allegiance?! I serve the Moon Kingdom!"
Moon Kingdom. Not the Empire. Not the Church. Not Being X.
So either the cat was lying…
…or this world had its own set of metaphysical problems.
I picked it up by the scruff—gently, but firmly. "If you're here on behalf of the deity who tormented me in my last life, tell him I'm not playing along."
She flailed. "I don't—Put me down! I've never heard of that entity!"
I lowered her onto the sidewalk and stared for a long moment.
She stared back, utterly confused, tail twitching.
"I'm looking for someone!" she declared at last, puffing up her tiny chest. "A reincarnated princess from the Moon Kingdom with unimaginable power, and her most powerful bodyguard Sailor Moon. Usagi Tsukino, That's you."
"No," I said immediately. "It isn't."
"Yes it is! You need to help me find the princess!"
"I reject the premise."
"You can't reject destiny!"
I sighed. Deeply. Anciently. Like a weary god contemplating the heat death of the universe.
"That's what the last one said," I said. "Repeatedly."
Luna looked like she was about to have a nervous breakdown. Her eyes widened, ears flattening as if the floor had just vanished beneath her.
"You really don't remember anything?!"
"I remember a world war," I said coldly. "And a courtroom. And a deity's smirk. And dying multiple times. None of which," I flicked my hand dismissively, "are relevant to any 'Moon Kingdom.'"
She stared at me like I had confessed to being a sentient cyborg infiltrating a daycare.
Then she whispered—too quiet, too hesitant:
"If you walk away… people will get hurt."
I blinked at her.
Then I blinked again.
Then I said, in the same tone I would use to inform a clerk that my order was incorrect:
"People get hurt constantly. That's reality. Pain is statistically inevitable. It's not my problem."
Luna reeled back as if I'd slapped her with a philosophy textbook.
"What— what kind of response is THAT?! People will be in DANGER!"
"People are always in danger," I replied. "Trucks. Illness. Poor life decisions. I cannot be expected to fix every natural consequence of existence."
She stared—mouth open, brain clearly derailed.
She scrambled for another angle.
"Okaaay," she said slowly, "but this isn't… normal danger. This isn't accidents or sickness or falling off skateboards. This is monsters."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Define monsters."
"Things that kill anything they touch! That eat energy! That drain life!" Luna hopped in agitation. "Things that tear through buildings, mind you!"
"That sounds like a municipal issue," I said.
"It's not a city problem! They're magical anomalies!" she insisted. "The police can't stop them! The military can't stop them! They cause mass destruction and chaos, and if they aren't defeated—"
"—the government collapses," I finished for her.
Luna blinked.
I continued, voice cool and analytical:
"And then this society destabilizes. Infrastructure breaks. Supply chains fail. Public panic rises. Martial law is invoked. The economy crashes. Schools shut down. People starve."
Luna's jaw fell open. She had meant "people will get hurt." But I had escalated to the national-level consequences without blinking.
Quietly, I added:
"Chaos draws opportunistic powers. When a system is weakened, other actors move in. Criminals. Militaries. Ideological factions. Or—"
My eye twitched.
"—interfering divine beings."
Luna blinked even more slowly this time. "Are… are you okay?"
"No," I breathed into her face. "I have not been 'okay' in three lifetimes."
Luna sat down hard on the pavement. "This is… a lot."
"And I do not need another world collapsing on top of me." I crossed my arms. "If what you're describing is accurate, magical anomalies represent a potential existential threat to the stability of this world."
"Yes!" Luna said, suddenly energized again. "Exactly! That's why we need the princess!"
"No," I corrected, "that is why I need more information."
Luna stopped mid-bounce.
"…What?"
"Information," I repeated. "Data. Reports. Threat analysis. You said these monsters destabilize society. Fine. If that's true, I need to understand the mechanism of their emergence, targets, physiology, magical behavior, range—"
Luna tilted her head. "You speak like Mercury."
"I speak like someone who refuses to be blindsided," I said sharply.
Luna blinked at me, unsure whether that was a compliment or not.
"I don't care about 'destiny,'" I continued. "I don't care about saving humanity, or this 'princess'. I don't care about a Moon Kingdom. What I do care about—"
I pointed at her tiny, confused face.
"—is making sure nothing in this world has leverage over me. Not monsters. Not governments. Not divine forces. Not. You."
She puffed up indignantly. "Why would I want leverage?!"
"Everything does," I muttered. "Eventually."
Luna's tail flicked as she processed that.
Finally, she spoke, voice quieter.
"If you want information… come with me."
I considered it. Longer than necessary. Because this was the pivot point—every instinct told me that.
I didn't believe in heroics. I didn't believe in destiny. I didn't believe Luna was harmless.
But not following her meant staying blind. Vulnerable. Ignorant.
And I despise ignorance more than almost anything.
"Fine," I said at last. "I'll listen. You will brief me. In detail. No omissions."
Luna brightened. "Really?!"
"But," I warned, "if you attempt to drag me into some predestined role, I will walk away. Permanently."
She nodded vigorously.
And I followed the cat.
I followed Luna through a small residential park—quiet, empty, bordered by cherry trees and an abandoned slide that squeaked in the breeze. The perfect setting for a clandestine meeting, apparently. If I didn't know better, I'd have suspected surveillance drones waiting overhead.
Luna hopped onto a bench. I remained standing.
"So," I began, "you said monsters."
"Yes!" Luna perked up, tail swishing. "Terrible creatures born from dark energy. They drain life force, cause chaos, and their attacks destabilize—"
"Stop." I raised a hand. "Give me specifics. Definitions, classifications, incident rates, behavioral patterns."
Luna blinked. "I… um… they're… scary?"
I closed my eyes.
"Try again."
She inhaled, like a cat preparing for a lecture she was not trained to give.
"O-Okay! They're called youma. They appear suddenly, possess objects or people, and start causing harm. They grow stronger the longer they feed. They're controlled by a dark force, and if left alone—"
"—they escalate." I finished. "Power accumulation over time. Good. Continue."
Her ears perked. "You… understand this?"
"Of course I understand it," I said. "It's standard asymmetric threat behavior."
Luna looked both encouraged and unnerved.
She paced the bench, tail flicking. "The Moon Kingdom fought these threats long ago. The royal family had the Silver Crystal, a legendary artifact capable of purifying darkness. And the princess—"
"There it is." I cut her off. "The role assignment."
"You ARE the princess's bodyguard," Luna insisted.
"I am Usagi Tsukino," I corrected. "And I do not accept any monarchs from civilizations that no longer exist."
"But you're her friend!"
"Which I did not consent to."
Luna made a small distressed noise, paws pressing to her forehead.
"Fine," she said, regrouping. "Then consider this: if this dark force returns—and it will—the youma will multiply. They always seek the same targets."
"What target?"
"You." She pointed her paw at me.
I stared.
"Because you have the potential to be the strongest of the Sailor Scouts. Even if you don't awaken it, they'll hunt you. They'll sense you. They'll keep coming until—"
"I neutralize the threat," I finished calmly.
"Yes!"
This was different. Not manipulation. Information.
Real, actionable intelligence.
"And," Luna added quietly, "if you ignore them, they will still come. They don't need you to participate. They'll simply attack you because you exist."
Ah.
Now that was relevant.
"You mean," I said slowly, "this threat compromises my personal safety regardless of my involvement?"
"Yes! Exactly!"
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Why didn't you lead with that?"
Luna looked like she'd just solved world peace.
"SO you'll help?!" she asked eagerly.
"I'll assess," I corrected. "Which requires you to provide the necessary tools for threat evaluation."
Luna brightened and leapt down from the bench.
"I was hoping you'd say that. I brought something."
She nudged a small, ornate box toward me. A compact, pastel-colored thing with gold filigree. It looked like it belonged in a child's jewelry set or an antique shop specializing in questionable taste.
I stared at it.
"What is this?"
"A focus artifact!" Luna said proudly. "Your transformation item!"
I flinched.
"Transformation," I repeated flatly. "Define."
Luna puffed up happily. "It awakens your powers and lets you fight the youma!"
I did not touch the box.
"It modifies my body?"
"Well—yes!"
"Temporarily?" I said, tone sharpening. "Or permanently?"
"Temporarily! It's only active during battle!"
I considered that. Body modification—even temporary—was always a risk. Enhancements often require energy costs, neurological synchronization, and unknown side effects. But if the enemy could sense me regardless, remaining unarmed would be more dangerous.
I crouched down and opened the box carefully, like I was defusing a small bomb.
Inside lay a brooch—pink, gold-trimmed, circular, deceptively… cute.
I did not pick it up immediately. Instead, I leaned in and examined it closely.
From the outside the size and shape reminded me of a computation orb.
"Lightweight," I murmured. "Small enough to conceal. Center gem appears to be a focus node. Outer structure decorative but possibly conductive. No runes visible. No stabilizing array. Strange."
Luna blinked. "Str—strange?"
"This design is reckless," I said bluntly. "A magical artifact without clear safety constraints is effectively an unstable grenade. Why does it not have an instruction manual?"
"Because… it's magical?"
I glared.
Luna wilted. "I—I'm sorry…?"
I sighed and finally picked up the brooch. It hummed faintly against my palm—warm, pulsing like a heartbeat.
I tightened my grip instinctively.
"…It's resonating with you!" Luna gasped.
"I don't like that it has that ability," I muttered. "No tool should be able to initiate synchronization without explicit consent."
"You ARE its chosen wielder!"
"That is not comforting."
Luna didn't seem to hear me. She bounced excitedly around my feet.
"Try it!" she said. "Say 'Moon Prism Power, Make Up!'"
I stared at her.
"Absolutely not," I said. "I'm not shouting a phrase that sounds like a school festival slogan. I don't even know what it does."
"It transforms you!"
"Into what?"
"A magical guardian of love and justice!"
I froze.
Then very, very calmly:
"I refuse," I said. "Categorically."
"Why?!"
"Because I am neither loving nor just," I said. "I am practical. And I will not shout an embarrassing phrase without knowing what effect it produces."
Luna opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.
Then sighed dramatically. "Fine. Fine! We'll review the basics. Youma behavior. Magical theory. Transformation safety protocols. Everything!"
"Good." I nodded. "I expect thoroughness."
Luna pawed at the ground, grumbling. "You're the most stubborn Scout I've ever met."
"I'm not a Scout."
"You are!"
"One more time," I warned, "and I will reconsider this entire collaboration."
Luna's ears flattened instantly. "…You're not a scout."
I pocketed the brooch.
It pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, like something recognizing me.
Unnerving.
But now? Now I had data. A target profile. A potential weapon. A threat I could prepare for.
I stood up.
"Let's begin."
I didn't intend to transform that day.
Luna certainly did intend it, judging by the way she kept staring at the brooch-shaped bulge in my jacket pocket like a fanatic waiting for her messiah to sneeze, but I had made my stance perfectly clear:
I wasn't shouting any embarrassing catchphrases.
I wasn't changing shape.
I wasn't "awakening my inner princess."
I wasn't—
A scream cut through the street.
A real one.
High. Raw. Terrified.
I froze mid-step.
A civilian stumbled out of a jewelry store across the plaza, face drained of color. Behind her, the lights flickered violently. The building shuddered.
Then a shriek—inhuman, warped—rattled the glass.
Luna's fur puffed instantly.
"Youma."
Of course it was.
Just my luck.
The store window exploded outward as a monster crawled into view—an animate mass of warped gemstones and wire, like a mannequin reassembled incorrectly. Its limbs cracked and creaked with every motion, dripping energy like molten wax.
Civilians scattered. Cars screeched. Alarms wailed.
The youma turned toward me.
Not the crowd.
Me.
Just as Luna said they would.
I exhaled slowly.
"So this is the threat," I murmured. "Good to have a visual."
"GOOD—?!" Luna screeched. "That thing is going to KILL YOU!"
"Then it shouldn't have given away its position so early," I said, stepping back to assess angles, range, and terrain. "Sloppy."
The youma lunged.
I dodged—barely, thanks to this body's pathetic coordination—and crashed shoulder-first into a vending machine.
Ow.
I pushed off the metal and glared at the creature.
"That's going to bruise."
"Transform!" Luna yelled. "NOW! USE THE BROOCH!"
I touched my pocket, feeling the faint pulse of the artifact under my fingertips.
"Fine," I muttered. "But I'm not shouting that ridiculous phrase."
"You HAVE to!"
"I refuse."
"You'll die!"
"Tactics first," I snapped, dodging another lunge. "Magic second."
The youma was fast, but not smart. Pattern: charge, overextend, recalibrate. Its movements were jittery—unstable magical structure, likely breakable if I knew how.
I didn't.
Which meant now was the moment.
Unfortunate.
I tore the brooch from my pocket and held it up.
"Alright," I said grimly. "Activate."
Nothing happened.
"Say the words!" Luna cried.
Absolutely humiliating.
Absolutely necessary.
I inhaled sharply and forced my pride to take a temporary vacation.
"Moon—"
I winced.
"Prism—"
This was undignified.
"Power."
I swallowed.
"Make… up."
The world detonated.
Light swallowed my vision—hot, spiraling, invasive. Ribbons of shimmering energy wrapped around my limbs, constricting, lifting me off the ground. My bones felt like they were dissolving. My skin vibrated. My hair lifted, weightless, as raw power surged through me.
I gritted my teeth.
The light intensified.
Luna watched from below, wide-eyed and trembling.
The moment the brooch lit up, I knew something was wrong.
And then the magic hit.
My muscles elongated, compressed, and rearranged like someone was trying to fold a human being into a decorative pretzel. Heat rushed up my spine and down my fingertips in a way no human nervous system should ever consent to.
Then my clothes disintegrated into light.
"WAIT—WAIT—WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES GOING?!" I shouted, grabbing desperately at the dissolving fabric that used to be my school uniform.
Luna blinked. "It's fine! This is normal!"
"NORMAL FOR WHO?!" I snapped. "EXHIBITIONISTS?!"
Light wrapped around my body like a ribbon with malicious intent. My torso snapped into a tight white bodice. A giant bow plastered itself onto my chest like a decorative bullseye.
Then came the skirt.
A miniskirt.
A microscopic, subatomic, gravity-defying, scientifically irresponsible miniskirt.
"This is indecent," I hissed. "THIS IS UNSAFE. THERE IS SO MUCH EXPOSED SKIN. AND WIND EXISTS."
The skirt sparkled at me mockingly.
Luna practically vibrated. "You look beautiful!"
"I look underdressed for combat and overdressed for a theme café!"
High heels materialized on my feet, locking in place with sinister determination.
I stared at them, appalled.
I looked down at the narrow stiletto. "One sharp turn and my ankle will explode."
"You won't break anything! Magic keeps you balanced!"
"I DO NOT TRUST YOUR PERVERT MAGIC WITH MY ANKLES."
A tiara appeared on my forehead like I had just been branded by a sparkly cult.
"I hate this," I whispered.
The light dimmed.
The transformation finished.
And I—Tanya Degurechaff, four-time reincarnate, seasoned strategist, nemesis of divine authority—stood in a glitter-coated sailor uniform designed by someone who clearly is banned from entering a hundred yards from a school.
Luna stared up at me, trembling from excitement, tears sparkling.
"You… you LOOK PERFECT!"
"I look compromised," I corrected.
The youma screeched and charged.
I moved.
Not because of dignity—clearly shattered—but because the transformation had done something to my reflexes. My legs reacted like springs. My heel—against every rational expectation—did not snap.
I pivoted and brought my leg up in a high kick, landing my heel squarely into the monster's chest.
It cracked.
I staggered back, stunned.
"Huh," I said. "Increased kinetic output. Unexpected."
"FOCUS!" Luna screamed. "Use your tiara!"
"My what?"
"YOUR TIARA!!"
I touched the circlet on my forehead.
"What? Throw it?"
"Yes!"
The youma lunged again.
I yanked the tiara from my forehead—still vaguely offended by the concept—and it transformed midair into a shimmering disc of energy.
"A weapon disguised as jewelry," I murmured.
I threw it.
The tiara sliced cleanly through the youma, which gave a strangled, static-filled wail before shattering into a thousand glittering pieces and evaporating into the air like someone had detonated a confetti bomb.
Silence fell.
Luna panted. Trembling. Eyes huge.
I lowered my arm slowly. I could feel the tiara reappear on my forehead.
"…I want to test that again," I said.
"TEST—?!" Luna shrieked. "You just killed a MONSTER!"
"Yes," I said calmly. "Now I need to determine range, duration, and structural integrity. Also: can I throw it like a boomerang? Can it penetrate reinforced metal? Can it cut through concrete?"
"WHY WOULD YOU NEED TO CUT THROUGH CONCRETE?!"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Luna stared at me as if I'd just politely outlined a plan to redecorate the prefecture with explosives.
"Y-you're not like how I remember Sailor Moon," she whispered.
"I told you," I said, brushing imaginary dust off my gloves. "I am not your Scout."
"But you are Sailor Moon."
I looked down at the glowing brooch still pulsing against my chest bow—still an absurd design choice—and felt something strange.
Not awe.
Not destiny.
Not pride.
But potential.
"Fine," I said. "If this power insists on merging with me, I'll use it. On my terms."
Luna gulped. "Your… terms?"
"First," I said, scanning the area like a battlefield, "I need data. A training environment. A safe testing field. And pants."
"P-pants?"
"Yes. Pants. Or leggings. Or armor plating. Something that covers my legs so I'm not flashing the enemy."
Luna's ears flattened. "That's… that's not how the uniform works…"
"Then we're changing it."
"Y-you can't!"
"You said I'm the Moon Sailor of the Moon Kingdom?"
"Yes?"
"Then that must mean I'm the Commanding Officer right?"
"The leader of the Scouts, yes."
"Then as my first order of business. I want and will have pants."
I clenched my gloved fist, feeling the faint magical hum running through my bones.
"And we're going to find out exactly how far this power goes."
Luna swallowed hard.
Somehow, I think that I frightened her more than the monster did.
Art on the discord or here.