The world was moving fast-and-slow. Blood and sweat drops hung in the air like zero gravity. Heartbeats had acres between them. She could see the whole battlefield, like a painting spread out across the plaza. But there wasn’t any time.

Only pain. It didn’t last long enough for her to shut it out. It lasted forever.

The Senshi of Coffee rested in her preferred manner, golden eyes still wide open.

*

Golden eyes flew open.

There was only darkness. Gigi sat up with a whimper, hand pressing to her chest, to her starseed, to wounds she still felt like echoes etched on her clammy skin, but her frantic fingers couldn’t find the marks. Her clothes were damp and cold, and so were the sheets she was tangled in.

No battlefield. Only a bed. Had she been healed? Another fall-back point for the wounded? That hadn’t been the plan. She remembered the plan, their final stand, and she - she’d died. The memory sank in like the knife. She was dead. Oh god, she was dead!

Gigi pressed her hand to her mouth, fighting against tears and the swell of memories that the nightmare had left her. Her own choked breaths told her it was a lie, a dream, but the visions had been frighteningly vivid, and they didn’t fade as her waking mind reviewed them. Layer upon layer of detail unfolded, a whole life. A whole lifetime of memories, like scenes from a movie she’d watched too many times.

She remembered fire, and the thick taste of tar smoke at the back of her throat. She remembered a room full of soft toys and hopelessness – a little princess, brave faces smiling brave smiles while the world ended. She remembered the confetti, and the drinks set out nicely on the tables outside City Hall.

She remembered the screaming. The pain.

Gigi squeezed her eyes shut in the dark. The memories only began again.


Auntie’s funeral, yellow daffodils in white sheafs on the casket.

Disappearance after disappearance, and never knowing which friend had made it out safe, and who was lying dead at the Negaverse’s hand.

Her father’s lifeless body hanging from a youma’s claw, and she was too slow, too far away, too useless to save him. The pen wasn’t even in her hand.

The logo above her shop’s front door, a bright red disc with a brown coffee bean in the centre. Clean white cups lined up on the espresso machine. The glitter on the service sign – ‘Order Here!’. Locking her shop up for the last time, because she needed to speak out before there was no-one left.


It jumbled together with faces living and dead, real and dreamed. A nightmare. Just a nightmare, she told herself. She always had nightmares when she was home. She was going to go out and drink all the coffee. She was never sleeping again!

Gigi threw off the blankets at last, struggling out of bed, finding the lamp switch as an afterthought. Her room was still the same. She was still the same. In the mirror, no blood showed. The pain she remembered hadn’t happened. Had any of it? That was another frightening thought. She wasn’t dead, good. But what about the rest? Her father, the government, all the other senshi?

One phone at a time. Her mind made lists when she didn’t ask it to, planning, prioritising. Was that eighteen-year-old student Gigi, or future-Gloria? She pulled her regular phone from its charger, hands shaking as she hit speed-dial, and pressed it to her ear. She paced the room, listening to the tone. It connected on the third ring (too slow), and she bit her lip as a yawn sounded at the other end.

“H’lo? Gigi?” Her father’s sleepy voice brought tears to her eyes. “Honey, do you know what time it is?” His tone went from sleepy to scolding, and just as quickly to concern. “Did something happen? Do you need me to come and get you?”

“No, no! Sorry Daddy. I didn’t mean to wake you. Nothing’s wrong. I just... really wanted to hear your voice is all.”

“…I’m right here, baby. Just because your mother and I- I mean. You can come over any time. How about this weekend?”

“Yes please.” Her own voice sounded young to her.

“Great! Let’s do lunch! …Try and get some sleep, sweetie? See you soon.”

She hung up, still circling her room in quick urgent steps, drawing deep breaths to keep back the sobs. The room was stuffy, like the extra memories were filling up the spaces, pressing in. She couldn’t put them in order. She needed air, space, the other phone, the one she hadn’t touched in years, because she was just a little non-combat scout, and there were other more experienced senshi who could handle it. She was wrong. So very wrong. She changed hurriedly into yesterday’s clothes, checking the pocket of her handbag for her henshin pen, rubbing off dust.


Half-way to the front door, her mother peeked out at her from the other bedroom, a frown lining her sleepy face.

“You going out, Geej?” she asked. “What time is it?”

“I’m just going to grab some coffee, Mum!” Gigi lied.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen, honey. Three kinds.”

“And some chocolate, Mum, I’m all out. Seriously, I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!”

Her mother’s frown didn’t go away, a sceptical tilt of her head. She didn’t ask what was wrong, but Gigi felt exposed under that ultraviolet stare, like the tears she’d wiped up had left glowing marks on her cheeks. She pushed past the bedroom door and wrapped her arms around her mother in a quick, fierce hug.

“I won’t be long,” she repeated, lips pressed against the shoulder of her mother’s dressing gown. She felt her mother nod, and hug her back, and let her go. Being an adult sucked.

“Stay safe, Geej. This is a dangerous city.”

“I know,” she said, stepping away from the comforting embrace. “And I will.”


Outside, the wind was blowing, turning mild into chill. Gigi headed out into the streets, aiming vaguely in the direction of the closest of the all-night diners that did decent coffee. It didn’t really matter where she went, just that she got far enough away from home that anyone watching couldn’t link her aura to her real identity. She watched the streets as she walked, looking for differences in the signage, the people, evidence of youma activity. Nothing seemed out of place. Her home town had always had a bit of a horror-movie to it after dark.

An alley opened up beside her, and a quick check confirmed it to be still and empty, flood-lit from above by a distant second-storey light. She stepped inside, and finally, finally held up her henshin pen, letting the dormant power fill her up. Subamara was back to her usual uniform – the dream had shown her something fancier, a power a little stronger, but not enough to save them, or herself. She needed to be stronger even than that. No powered auras accosted her senses - neither friend nor foe was near. But the phone beeped as she drew it out of its place, the tiny moon-shaped pearl charm catching the light. There were a slew of messages left for her, and she slouched against the alley wall to scroll through them. Group mail-outs, mostly - calls for help, meeting announcements and messages that seemed to be from cats. Nothing to indicate that the Negaverse had taken over, that the mayor was evil, that the Resistance camp was breached and burning. No obituaries or corruption warnings for allies lost.

Tears welled in her eyes again, but now it was with relief. It never happened. It was just a nightmare. This time it was just a nightmare.

One message caught her eye before she closed up the phone, and she opened the ‘Primer’ link with renewed curiosity, scrolling through the headings. Information, all the things she’d hope to learn at the long-ago ambushed meeting, laid out in helpful print for her. Some things she vaguely remembered, others were wholly new. But the document was long – far too long to safely sit and read in an alley.

Sailor Subamara glanced around, wondering where she could go in powered form to safely read and study. Just because the world of her nightmare hadn’t come to pass didn’t mean she shouldn’t still be careful, and just because she couldn’t feel someone nearby didn’t mean they couldn’t sneak up. She looked down at the phone again.

“Your connection to space is tremendous now, especially to the object for which you are named. You are able to travel to your home world through the use of your cellphone.” she read from the Primer.

She’d been told this before, but never tried it. She could almost hear it already, a faint undertone.

“...concentrate on the stars above and listen for your world's hum, press the center button…”

The phone hung loose in her hand as she turned her face to the sky. Even in the nightmare, the Negaverse hadn’t conquered the stars. A resonance became a tune, but it seemed to hum inside her, like a music box had opened up inside her soul. It wasn’t a conscious thing, to close her eyes, concentrate, hear that little familiar almost-sound until it became solid, a buffeting, murmuring wind that fluffed her ruffles and plaited new tangles into her curls.

Sailor Subamara hit the button.


[Oct 13, 2014]