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As a member of the Blood Moon Court, training under the likes of Sailor Ares and Sailor Gunn, Vulcan had never considered the possibility that she would have to step into the role of teacher. She remembered it well- the desire to impress, and the anxiety that brought with it. The excitement whenever she managed to do something right, and the soul-crushing dissappointment whenever she failed. It was different from what she felt now, watching John Jr prepare.

The spot that she had chosen for today's training session was a shabby gym attached to their Uncle Morgan's Autoparts Garage, tucked in a corner of one of Destiny City's seedier neighbourhoods. The space was roomy, decked out in everything Vanessa needed to mold her wards into the soldiers they had to be in order to survive Destiny City's underground cesspool. All of the equipment was old but well cared for, collected from auctions here and there, as Uncle Morgan had worked to provide a safe place for underprivileged neighborhood youth to spend their free time. His own son was a boxer who'd demonstrated a great deal of promise, before the bullet that severed his spinal column and ended his life. To the kids who came to box, the gym was known as Mark's Place.

Mark was a year older than Vanessa. He would have turned twenty five that year.

She sat next to the boxing ring, chin in her hands, contemplating the picture of her cousin that hung on the wall. He was as tall as John Jr, but with more muscle. He was stronger. At fifteen John Jr was already 6'0," but there was very little meat on top of his bones. He stood tall and proud in the center of the ring, smacked his gloves together when Benji found his way into the gym, at last.

"You're late," he said.

"No, he isn't." Vanessa smiled at Benji, welcomed him forwards with a friendly wave of her hand. "Come in. There's a place where you can change over there."

She pointed, indicating a bathroom. And then pointed again. "And a fountain over here if you're thirsty. You gotta push down pretty hard on the lever, but it works just fine and the water's cold."

On a windowsill at the back of the room Ophelia slept in a sunbeam, tail curled around her delicate frame.

Vanessa was smiling when Benji rejoined them. She beckoned him closer with a wave of her hand, held out a roll of fabric that looked like tape. On the bench beside her there sat a pair of red boxing gloves. They were newer than the ones that John Jr wore. Before his arrival, she had insisted that Benji get the better set.

John Jr had argued, and then ultimately decided that it didn't matter. He could whoop Benji with his bare hands.

"You're going to spar," Vanessa said. Like the boys, she was dressed for a work out, long curls tamed into a pair of pretty french braids that kept her hair out of her eyes. "I've gotta wrap your hands first, though."

From the boxing ring John Jr was making obscene gestures and kissing faces at Benji. For him, it was as much fun as it was insulting. He did not take the other boy's disdain to heart.

Vanessa scowled at her brother over Benji's shoulder.

"Smalljohn," she said, tone cold, "thirty push-ups. Now."

John Jr gaped and almost protested, but then he was huffing a great sigh and rolling his eyes and getting down on his hands and knees to do as he was told.

John Jr was on his toes, bracing himself above the floor of the boxing ring with expert hands. An excellerated growth spurt had made him tall and skinny, so that the bones in his shoulders and his elbows stuck out, but he had been an athlete all of his life and was far from weak. The push-ups came easily.

"You talk pretty big for somebody so tiny," he grinned at Benji from the floor. "You sure you can handle me?"

It took a lot for Vanessa to disguise the amusement she felt over their bickering. Her lips twitched at the corners, bright eyes shining. She wanted to laugh, and to join in their play, but searched inside of herself for the reason that she had invited Benji to train with them. She anchored there, and managed to keep her humour private. When she'd started out as Sailor Vulcan, Vanessa had never imagined that she might become a teacher. That she might have to set an example.

She was rash and stupid and temperamental, little more than a child herself. She did not know what she was doing. Not really. She had more experience than Chara and Syrtis, but experience only counted for so much against an enemy as hostile and unpredictable as theirs.

It was for Syrtis that Vulcan held a torch in the dark. She did not know what waited for her at the end of the tunnel, but she would face it first. So that he did not have to. And she would share the things that she learned with him-- was, in fact, already sharing as much as she could. With him. And with Benji. And with whoever else bold enough to trust in the only guidance that she could offer them.

"Give me your hands," Vanessa said, smiling at Benji, taking hold of him with gentle fingers. She started wrapping his wrists with the tape, but made a point of going slow so that he could follow the technique. "This is so you break your opponent's nose instead of your fingers. The tape keeps the bones from moving around."

When she finished, she cocked an eyebrow.

"How does that feel? They should be comfortable. Not cutting off your circulation."

"Next is warm-up."

There was a part of Vanessa that was sorry she could not just toss John Jr and Benji together and watch them dance circles around one another. There was another, more experienced part of Vanessa who understood the pain of pulled muscles and sprained joints too well to allow them such freedom without taking every possible precaution against accidental injury.

She pulled a skipping rope from her gym bag. Handed it to Benji, and then indicated the open space next to the ring where John Jr was still finishing his push-ups.

"What's your cardio like? Try to skip for five minutes, but don't exhaust yourself."

"Careful you don't choke yourself with that rope," John Jr drawled, draping himself over the ropes. He grinned for Benji. Nice and wide, let his gloves dangle.

"Smalljohn's already warmed up. But," Vanessa said. She turned from Benji to John Jr, and then went to collect another skipping rope from her gym bag. "There's no reason he can't do some more."

John Jr groaned and rolled his eyes. But he traded his gloves for the skipping rope, and got down to do as he was told- pausing, with a cheeky grin on his face, to whip the back of Benji's calves.

Toilet.

That was probably John Jr's favourite insult. He'd struck Benji with the hope of getting a rise out of him, and was both delighted and dissappointed in the other boy's response. Delighted because Benji got angry, and lashed out at him with words. Dissappointed because Benji resumed skipping -the way Vanessa hold told him to- instead of punching him in the face.

It wasn't the broken nose that John Jr wanted. It was the scrap.

He made a face. Lifted his rope to whip Benji again, but was prevented from doing so when Vanessa seized him by the wrist. She squeezed hard enough to hurt. He complained with a noise.

"Quit being a jerk," she said, expression stony. "Or I'll kick you out and spar Benji myself."

John Jr rolled his eyes. He yanked his arm out of Vanessa's grip, and mumbled under his breath, 'Quit being a jerk.'

"John Nahu-

"FINE," he rumbled, cutting Vanessa off before she could finish his middle name in that god-damned obnoxious tone she used whenever she was trying to be his mother. He stepped out of the way. Took up the empty space next to the boxing ring and started to skip.

"I apologize," Vanessa said to Benji. There was a hint of a flush in her cheeks, but she looked otherwise calm. She checked the timer on her cellphone. "Three more minutes. You're almost done."

When both of the boys had finished their cardio warm-ups, she guided them through several sets of different stretches. John Jr rolled his eyes a lot and grumbled about being prepared enough already, but Vanessa was insistent. Chara and Syrtis would have a hard enough time avoiding injury in battle. She would not be able to protect them both every minute of every day. In training, at least, she could take every possible precaution against sprains and pulled muscles.

And then, smiling, she handed Benji the gloves that he would be using against John Jr that day.

"You ready?"

'I'm ready. How much can I mess up his face without you being mad at me?'

The smile on Vanessa's face did not falter over Benji's question. She was protective of John Jr, but a warrior at heart, and stood in front of her brother confident that Benji could not do him any real harm. He was of her blood, and she of his-- of the pair of them, she felt that he was the stronger; a blaze of light from Mars that burned like sunshine. John Jr had always been a happy boy. Vanessa was not half as steady.

"Try," she said, shrugging, lips twitching at the corners. "I will not get mad."

If things did get out of hand, Vanessa was prepared to stop them. And she trusted that John Jr would listen, despite his penchant for sass.

John Jr had already scrambled back into the boxing ring. He grinned toothily at Benji.

"Hey, Shortcake," he made an obscene gesture, gloved hand passing in front of his body, "you suck it."

When Vanessa was small and John Jr was even smaller they'd shared a fondness for arm-wrestling with their father, a man with biceps as thick as the trunk of a tree. Sometimes he let them win. Sometimes they both seized him by the wrist and tried to drag the back of his hand across the table where they played. Other times, John just stood up, and his children swung from his arm like monkeys.

For both Vanessa and John Jr, there had always been a sort of play about fighting. John Jr moved to stand across from Benji when the other boy clambered into the ring. He cocked his head, considered Benji's defensive position, and how very much they seemed to dislike each other.

Did they dislike each other? John Jr wasn't sure. He thought that Benji was small and lippy and occasionally irritating, but the sum of those three things did not really conclude in distaste. Not for John Jr, who had always been the sort of child to cry over pinching his finger on the playground one moment and then coo over butterflies the next. He could not remember hating anyone in his life.

He smirked. Raised his hands. The gloves smelled like old leather and oil. It reminded him of sparring with Vanessa- who was taller than Benji. He tried to remember the things that Vanessa had told him. About standing against someone smaller than you were-- what had she said? He couldn't remember. Decided it wasn't important.

John Jr moved forwards. He was over-conscious of his footwork. Shook his head to clear his mind, and then swung at the side of Benji's face with his right arm.

Embarrassed?

Nah. Not more than surprised. He had grown up in a home with a big sister who thought the sun rose when he got up in the morning, and a father who bragged to everyone who'd listen about how far John Jr could hit a baseball. There had not been much shame, in his life. He did not embarrass easily.

John Jr stumbled forwards in the wake of Benji's booty-kick, knees jerking with the involuntary shifting of his weight. He spun around to grin.

"You're not supposed to kick me," he said, meaning to be helpful, assuming that Benji did not know the rules. "That's not how boxing works."

He braced himself. The way that his sister had shown him, years and years ago. With his feet shoulder width apart, one behind the other, and his fists raised. He was still smiling.

"Try again."