“No, Mr. Yin, I haven’t kidnapped your boss. I merely saved her life and from whatever inconvenience a more public facility holds.” The last was mentioned with a smile, threat implicit. Groggy and sore, Emily sat up, and nearly threw up at the resulting pain. The man turned around to look at her, still smiling, and raised a particularly sardonic eyebrow. “She’s awake, but I don’t think she’s quite up to talking just yet.” A pause. “No.” And then, “Well, I suppose you should scurry over here and rescue her, now shouldn’t you? Chop chop, as they say.”

A grim chuckle. “Bring cash.”

Emily already knew that she would heal fine. Hestia.

“So, a spear, Miss Moffat?” The man turned his attention fully on her after hanging up with Dwight. “Always one for the more exotic injuries, though I suppose it’s not too strange in this city.” He was met with her quiet stare, the one she always gave him when his comments brushed too close to secrets and magic. Someone like him could never be allowed to know. For a brief second, the sneering captain’s figure overlapped with the one in front of her and Emily closed her eyes. People like them shouldn’t be allowed to…

Hestia!

Her thoughts stuttered back, frantic, and on the edge of a crumbling precipice.

She was fine. Everything was the same as it always was. She was about to go home and even if she had to be careful for a few weeks, life would go on just the same as it had been. It’d just been a fight, after all, even if it was one that she’d lost.

“I hate that guy.” Half an hour later and Dwight was driving her home in the shiny yellow Acura that he spoiled to the point of losing his last girlfriend over its care and maintenance. “He’s creepy and acts like he’s smarter than everyone else. We should switch. It’s not like we’re stuck with picking in-network black market healthcare providers.”

“He did a good job, Dwight.” The reply was soft and passive to the point that it had him looking at her in concern for a brief, worried moment before changing the subject to her channel analyticals.

A day later and she’s going over video notes in bed. There’s more than enough content for a decent buffer, there shouldn’t be any interruption. Hestia.

There shouldn’t be any major changes.

Two days later and she’s up and about, if careful not to bend or twist too much. But with a little help, she can cook. She records a podcast about baking soda. Hestia.

Outside of a few healing injuries, nothing is different.

After the first week, she powers up. Along with her uniform, the wisp reappears, its motions friendly and curious and seeing it sends a jolt of panic through her. HESTIA! She let go of the magic, and the creature once again pops out of existence. She stands there panting, like she’s just sprinted a sudden mile. The proof that things were not at all the same had shaken whatever ground she was trying to regain her footing on. It was giving way, the precipice chasing after her.

The stitches could already come out. There’d be some scarring but that was normal. She was normal.

She powered up again the next night and lightly patrolled, ignoring the wisp that followed.

Cooking. (This is what she does.) Hestia.

Cleaning. (This is how she lives.) Hestia.

Recording. (This work is so fulfilling.) Hestia.

Patrolling. (This is the job of a sailor senshi.) Hestia.

Sleep. (This is necessary.) Hestia.

Cooking. (What she needs to do.) Hestia!
Cleaning. (What she needs to do.) Hestia!
Recording. (What she needs to do.) Hestia!
Patrolling. (What she needs to do.) Hestia!
Sleep. (What she needs to do.) Hestia!

HCookingECleaningSRecordingTPatrollingISleepA

COOKINGCLEANINGRECORDINGPATROLLINGSLEEPHESTIAHESTIAHESTIAHESTIAHESTIA

(THIS IS ALL THERE IS THIS IS ALL THERE NEEDS TO BE)

Cooking. (The blur of her knife freezes, right above her fingers.) HESTIA
Cleaning. (The ammonia bottle was already emptied into the bucket of bleach.) HESTIA
Recording. (It didn’t go well. She kept losing track of) HESTIA
Patrolling. (She started racing toward a captain signature, pulling back only when pain seared along her side in protest.) HESTIA
Sleep. (But maybe she shouldn’t.) HESTIA

Cooking. (She can't.) hestia
Cleaning. (She can't.) hestia
Recording. (She can't.) hestia
Patrolling. (She can't.) hestia
Sleep. (She can't.) hestia

The ground gives way.