While Evan still had severe reservations about going into the outside world, his last trip to the library—alone—had gone so well that he was even a little excited to head out.

Of course, he’d dragged his feet until the last moment when it came time to actually return them. He’d read all of the books the librarian had helped him picked out—and had even found a few recipes to try out from the cookbook he’d borrowed.

He wasn’t out for anything exciting, today; he just wanted to return his books and maybe pick out a few more.

Zac was home and, always happy to see Evan trying to get out, agreed to drop him off at the library. It was supposed to be an easy day—he would drop Evan off and then Evan would call when he was ready to come home.

It was late in the day when they arrived, so Evan had only planned to stay for twenty minutes or so; he had the same small bit of anxiety when he watched Zac drive away as he had the last time Cambria dropped him off, but this time he entered the library with a little more enthusiasm.

It was short lived; he found himself looking for a familiar face, but the librarian who had been so polite and helpful the first time he was there was nowhere to be seen. He withdrew into himself a bit, quietly returning the books. He had wanted to tell her that she’d enjoyed what she’d helped him pick out, and maybe see if he had more suggestions, but today it seemed like he was on his own.

He made his way back to the recipes and took a little more time to sift through what books they had to offer. There might not have been a lot, but there were still enough that they were new to him. He picked only two books from this section before drifting to the other areas of the library. He didn’t know what he was looking for so he just browsed, occasionally picking up a book and reading the back of it.

It didn’t seem like it was his lucky night; nothing stuck out to him. Eying the clock as it ticked closer to closing, he made his way to the checkout so he could call Zac and go home. He was already planning another trip in the near future, hoping that he could run into the librarian he was familiar with again. The woman who checked him out this time seemed distracted and distant, which was good because he didn’t want conversation, but bad because he immediately wanted to be far away from her.

She passed him the books and told him when they needed to be returned by; he thanked her and walked away as he withdrew his phone.

His dead phone, he realized too late for it to matter. Frantically, he pushed buttons, trying to get the screen to light up, trying to get any sort of reaction. He tried inside the library, and then just outside the library, and then by the curb—as if just standing somewhere else was going to give him ten seconds to send a text.

Bad luck, strike two.

Or maybe, three? He wasn’t counting the soda he’d spilled on himself earlier. But bad things only happened in threes, so that meant something good was around the corner, right?

He craned his head, half expecting to see Zac turning the corner into the parking lot but lost hope of that after a few long seconds of waiting.

No, Zac was giving him his space. He wouldn’t know to come just yet. The library closed in fifteen minutes, though; he’d have to know that Evan wanted to be picked up by then.

So, he waited, like he used to wait for Zack to pick him up from school.

He sat on the curb, backpack in his lap and knees drawn up so he could rest his head atop of it. He tried to check his phone instinctively but the dark screen just darkened his mood. A few times, he thought about asking to borrow the phone inside the library, but he kept replaying his interaction with the woman there, wondering if she’d be mad and tell the nice librarian how annoying he’d been.

It was paranoia, but Evan had plenty of that to spare.

If he was going to go inside and ask to borrow a phone, he missed his chance; when he recognized some of the staff leaving, he realized they must have closed and locked up already. Within five minutes, they were gone and Evan was alone.

Waiting, for Zac, on a curb, anxiously watching as the sun dipped below the tree line.

It would be dark soon, and as much as Evan hated walking home alone, he hated walking home alone at night, worse.

He had the books he’d checked out tucked safely in his bag, right next to the largest kitchen knife he could manage. Which, to be fair, probably wasn’t the sort of thing he should be carrying around in the civilized world. It had been fine when it was just work and home, like before, but now?

He’d have to find something else.

Maybe a taser.

He reached for his phone again to google how much a taser would cost when he was once again met with the cruel disappointment of a dead phone. He groaned and flopped his head back on his knees—but not before something caught in the corner of his eyes. A little white shape.

Worried, suddenly, that it was a youma or a wild dog, he suddenly sat up and seemed ready to lurch away until he realized he was looking at a cat.

A pretty cat, with pale blue eyes and a strange, silver scar on its forehead. It’s fluffy tail swished behind it and it seemed almost amused at Evan’s reaction. When Evan had calmed, the cat picked itself up and sashayed over.

Evan was weak against cats of all kind; she seemed too smart, too pretty, too calm to be sick, so he wasn’t even considering rabies when he reached out to pet her head carefully.

The cat nuzzled into it and started purring immediately. “Yes,” she said, though Evan was sure he’d misheard at first. “I like that, more of that, please.”

Of course, once the words registered, Evan froze.

Cats weren’t supposed to talk. Not all of them, at least, but his mind immediately went to Iolite.

This was much less strange than the first time she spoke.

Evan was only in shock for a few seconds this time. “Okay,” he said, and continued to pet her head.

The cat had other ideas and raised her gaze. “You’re not afraid? Most people don’t see a ‘talking cat’ and not ask questions.”

Evan might have guessed that she seemed disappointed at how well he was taking it but he didn’t bother to correct that he was afraid, of everything. Especially how the shadows kept creeping closer. But, he had company, and it was a good distraction until Zac showed up. “I met one, before,” he answered instead.

“Oh,” the cat purred. “Well, that’s interesting.”

Evan didn’t know how to respond so he nodded. “I guess.”

There were other questions on his tongue—what was her name, what was she doing out, why had she just wandered over and started talking—but she cut him off even a he opened his mouth.

“Well, then it’s good that I ran into you. I need you to help me.”

Help, Evan wasn’t so good at giving. He generally considered himself useless, but he knew that was just the dark part of himself trying to keep him down. He didn’t immediately refuse. Instead, he nodded slowly. “I can try,” he promised.

The cat let out a content sigh. “Perfect.”

While Evan debated if that was a pun, she did a strange flip in the air; he wasn’t sure where the strange, pen looking thing had come from, but he hadn’t been paying attention—maybe she’d had it all along.

She was holding it awkwardly in his mouth and seemed like she wanted him to take it. When she shoved it into his hand, he had no choice and held the purple thing somewhat awkwardly.

“Not having hands is such a pain,” she said, as if it were an explanation. Evan nodded absentmindedly, holding the pen up to look at it.

“What is it?” he asked after a second of scrutiny.

“It’s locked, right now. I can’t open it, but you can.”

“Oh,” Evan answered, still not sure what she was asking. “How do you unlock it?”

“It’s got a code, it needs a phrase, and I can’t do it myself. It needs to be held, and it’s not like I can talk with my mouth full.”

It made sense; Evan nodded again. “What’s the phrase?” he asked, drawing his gaze from her to glance around the parking lot. He still expected Zac to show up, any minute now.

He heard the cat speak, but it sounded like a strange, mumbled phrase. His mind had wandered somewhere else as he tried to figure out where Zack could be. In traffic? Home sleeping? Did he get attacked? Was he in the hospital?

The cat spoke again, her voice a bit more annoyed. This time he made out a little more of what she said; he snapped out of his thoughts to look back at her.

“Malus Power Make Up?” he asked; he thought he must have misheard her because that made no sense—but then, who was he to question a talking cat?

Except, he really should have, because the second the words left his mouth, he knew something was wrong. He could feel it change inside of him—a strange compression. There was a warmth about him, but also a tightness.

But she was there, looking smug. “Perfect,” she said again.

Evan tried to ask what was perfect when he realized he’d dropped the pen—or, at least, he couldn’t find it. Color appeared in his line of vision, though—more color than he’d worn in years. “Wait,” he said after a second, confused. He drew his hands to his face trying to blink away the confusion. It must have been an illusion; he wasn’t wearing gloves.

They felt real, though; he tugged at one for a second and then looked at the cat. “What happened?”

Had he fallen? Cracked his head? Passed out?

This couldn’t be a dream; he felt too sick for it to be a dream. She hadn’t said it, but he already knew to expect something bad.

“Well,” the cat said, “If you know about cats, you have to know about Senshi.”

He knew about Senshi, but only because of Cambria. He looked at the cat with narrowed eyes. “I know a Senshi.”

“Good,” the cat purred, standing up and sauntering around him in a circle. “That’ll make my job much easier, Malus.”

His blood was running cold and blackness was tainting the corners of his vision. Briefly, he feared that the sun had set and the darkness was closing in again, but he blinked and could still see the warm oranges and pinks of sunset. “Evan,” he corrected gruffly.

He was Evan. Normal, human, Evan.

The cat’s laugh almost sounded condescending; she nuzzled his back as she walked around him. “No, you’re Malus, now. Sailor Malus.”

If hearts could explode, Evan’s would have. His blood was ice, his stomach was knots, his limbs were lead and his mind was like water sloshing about. He didn’t realize that he’d stood up until the cat bellowed a meow up at him. “Sit down,” she commanded, but Evan didn’t.

He couldn’t really think of anything, except that he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t Malus, or whatever she had called him. He was Evan.

Just plain, normal, human Evan.

No youma, no Senshi, no nothing special. Just normal, unlucky Evan, who realized that the soda he’d spilled did not count as bad luck, because bad luck came in threes and apparently it wasn’t only black cats that were unlucky.

He didn’t get the name of the cat before he stumbled backwards, desperately trying to process this new curse she’d put upon him. He didn’t want to be powered up—he wanted to be himself.

He couldn’t wait for Zac to come. He knew that if he stayed like this, he was only more of a target than he was before—ripe for the picking. The Negaverse could be after him right now.

His heart nearly stopped. Flashes of his time in the Rift clogged his ability to think; it felt like he was trapped in the current, desperately fighting to break free. He couldn’t control where his thoughts carried him; all he could do was struggle and try to make sense of things. Or, at least, snap out of this. He couldn’t afford to let anxiety take over while they were in public—while anyone could see.

While anyone could have snuck up and attacked him.

Standing around, afraid and horrified and in shock wasn’t going to do anything but make things worse: he had to fix this. He had to go back. He didn’t know what to do to get out of this stupid uniform, with that stupid title, and those stupid expectations, but he wasn’t going to stand around and ask the cat responsible for his newest panic attack.

There were only a few people he knew he could trust, and despite his love for cats, she wasn’t going to be one of them. This had been a trick, plain and simple. She’d known what she was doing—she gave him the tool that made him this, made him say the phrase.

He should have asked what it meant, what it did, but she’d been so evasive.

It was easier to blame her than himself, in any case. But it wouldn’t have killed her to tell him the truth like it killed him to find out like this.

Evan had moved recently, with Zac and Cambria. He had only been out a few times, in nearly all instances with one or both of them present, but he was slowly becoming accustomed to their surroundings. The way to the library was something he’d tried to memorize, so even if he’d only seen the route a handful of times times, he knew he could make it. He’d walked back once before, but the circumstances had been different. Even now, he was only somewhat confident that he might be able to make it home. He knew the house wasn’t too far—it was only a few twists and turns. He’d watched the roads while Zac drove him; he remembered each house on each corner they turned.

He could make it home.

Cambria was there.

She could fix this.

Without waiting for the cat, he bolted. He ran, faster than he could ever remember running.

That cat had made a mistake; he wasn’t cut out for anything but running.