Sometimes it felt like there was a hum underneath the silence, but tonight….it felt cold, and empty. And for the first time in his tenure as a Dark Mirror, Elsa felt unwelcome.
He shivered, a little. Maybe it was all in his head, considering that he knew what he was here to do. That this would be the last time he ever walked the cloudy white halls of Mirrorspace.
That this was goodbye.
He couldn’t do it. Knowing that there was something so wrong with him—with his starseed, possibly with his world—that it had caused him to Awaken with the wrong sphere—it was a terrifying prospect. And, equally, an infuriating one.
Maybe Elsa had no obligation to care about that. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about whatever was going on, on his world. Maybe he could have left well enough alone and continued as a Dark Mirror. But always would have itched at him, the knowledge that there was something else out there. Worse, the knowledge that, all along, the Mirror had been so fundamentally wrong in what it reflected—that it had reflected pain, and suffering, and trauma, instead of the real core of his soul.
“Emptiness” wasn’t exactly a pretty sphere. But it was the right one. No longer did he feel wrong in his skin, whenever he powered up. No longer did something itch. No longer did his magic backfire. But just having his sphere fixed—that wasn’t enough. He had to know more. Had to find the rest of the story of the woman who had been Sailor Elsa before him. Learn more about her life, instead of her death.
At the very least, how was he supposed to look at someone who had died in so much pain and shrug and say “well that sucks, nothing to do with me, though”? When her pain had scarred their shared soul?
Mirrorspace was always cooperative. Elsa had gotten used to the way it bent to his will—or perhaps the way it conformed to his wishes. The way its halls turned and twisted to guide him to where he needed to be. Even in this, it helped him—almost like it wanted to remind him that it didn’t have to be this way. That he didn’t have to leave.
But it did. And he did.
He reached up and twisted a hand in the hand-crocheted scarf around his neck, like it would function as some kind of protective armor. Like he could draw some strength from Reiki’s—well, he wouldn’t be Reiki anymore, but Murikabushi’s, Elsa supposed—convictions. He probably didn’t get to, anymore. Losing it all over Reiki like he had, the last time they’d run into each other—even if it wasn’t his fault, even if it had been his magic totally unraveling, it had put him right back in the worst parts of his life.
Of screaming fights with Charlie that ended in thrown punches, and Levi cared that it was ******** up that he lost his temper like that with someone he was supposed to love, even if Charlie had mostly found it funny, the same way that he found any of Levi’s attempts to set boundaries or take anything seriously deeply hilarious.
Levi had promised himself he would never do that again. Never raise a hand in anger to someone he cared about. And his broken, wrong magic had completely ruined that for him. Set him back so far on so many things.
But he had that little gift bag tucked into his subspace, along with a backpack of other necessities. Because everything in there was a necessity, for starting his new life. A reminder that someone had loved Levi, once, even if it wasn’t the same way Levi loved Reiki. And he’d thrown that scarf on over his uniform like it might give him a little extra courage, as he descended deeper and deeper into the shifting, changing bowels of Mirrorspace.
Towards the inevitable confrontation.
He felt it before he saw it. A pulsing in his own starseed, his very core—a steady beat that pulled him forward the last few steps, until he opened a door and came into a room.
And there, in the middle of it, was a little mirror creation in the shape of a starseed.
His MirrorSeal.
He stepped towards it.
“Really, Levi?”
The voice that came from behind him was familiar—because it was his.
“Yes, really,” he shot back, without turning around. “Go away.”
“I don’t think I will,” the mirror replica said, and it moved around him to stand between him and the MirrorSeal.
It was…him.
Just Eternal Sailor Elsa, exactly as he was, with a pitying expression on his face that made the real Elsa want to start throwing punches.
But violence had never solved anything for him, recently.
“I mean, come on! Everything’s finally right! You did it, you fixed yourself, you’re what you’re supposed to be—and you’re gonna throw all that away? For what? A dead planet and some tragic memories?” The replica shook its head. “That can’t be worth your whole life. Everything you’ve worked for.”
“I dunno,” Elsa deadpanned, “ditching the criminal record and getting to be a whole new person does sound fun, actually. Besides, I could write a whole new Master’s thesis this way. The first one was just so much fun.”
“Joke all you want,” the replica said, “but I know you. I know your heart. I know you don’t want to do this.”
“Do you?” Elsa asked. “Know me, really? Because from where I’m standing, we just had a whole Thing, you and me, about how you didn’t even know my <******** sphere. You know, one of the two basic things that make a Senshi’s core identity? That tiny little detail?”
“Alright, yes, but that was a mistake,” the replica protested. “Your case is highly unusual, you have to understand—so much pain carved into a Senshi’s very soul—“
“And would an Order cat have made that mistake?”
The replica was silent, for a long moment.
“…I don’t know,” it confessed, finally. “But neither do you. And is it really worth it to throw away all you could become, all you’ve already become, over a mistake? One we worked so hard to fix, together?”
“After nearly ten years!” Elsa snapped. “Almost a decade of my life, with the wrong magic, the wrong identity—how am I supposed to just let that go?”
“And would one of their Order cats have solved that any faster? You can’t know that it wouldn’t have been the same.” The replica spread its arms wide, looking very professionally unimpressed. “You’re going to give up everything you built because you’re upset. And I understand that you’re upset, Elsa—but look at me. I’m just you, aren’t I? Other Senshi, when they come to me, I show them what they could be—what we could be, together. But you…I don’t need to show you anything fancy, because you know you’re already perfect. Why do you want to ruin that?”
“Yeah but see, here’s the thing,” Elsa said. “All of that work, everything I did? I did that myself. I can do it again. I can make myself a new life, as a new person, and I’m going to. Now get out of my way.”
“And what about your sister?” The replica asked, pointedly. Elsa winced. They’d talked, sure, and she’d given her blessing, of sorts—but that didn’t make it not hurt.
“She’s married. She and Rhona are happy. They’ll look after each other.” Maybe that was trite. Maybe it was too easy. Maybe he should have put more thought into it. But this wasn’t about anyone else. This was about him, and about everything he wanted to be.
It was about there being a new path before him, one he wanted to follow more than anything.
“Think this through, Elsa. Are you certain? Because once you take that MirrorSeal to a Princess, you’re committed. Even if you come back to the Court, you can never have your old life back.” The replica almost sounded concerned, and the concern made Elsa rankle.
But he did think. He had thought it over a thousand times since he stumbled out of Mirrorspace, made anew for the second time—changed into the Senshi of Emptiness, and with a whole pile of historical context dumped in his lap that he still wasn’t sure he’d fully sorted through. He probably wouldn’t be sure until he’d actually gone to his planet and gotten to see it firsthand.
And Elsa had to admit, just the promise of a whole other world was already incredibly tempting. What might he find there? What might he learn?
What person might he become, given the chance to start anew?
“I’ve thought about it,” he said, firmly. “Picked out a new name and everything. And I’m pretty excited to find out who that person gets to be.”
He moved to push past the mirror replica, to claim his MirrorSeal, and as he smacked his shoulder into its, he watched cracks begin to spider out from the point of contact.
Its gaze landed, disdainfully, on the scarf around his neck.
“He won’t take you back, you know. Even if you throw everything away.”
“I know,” Elsa said. “But it’s not about him.”
“No, it isn’t.” The replica sighed. “You’re making a mistake, Levi.”
“No.” Elsa said, firmly, and he ducked around the clone and reached out, hand curling around his MirrorSeal. “I’m correcting one.”
The cracks were spreading, and the replica was beginning to crumble. Maybe Elsa imagined it, but he swore he heard a heavy sigh of disappointment, as it collapsed into glass.
But its disappointment didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had his MirrorSeal. And soon, he would be free.
[wc: 1671 words]
