And meeting someone that violent with more violence felt like it was...legitimizing him, somehow. Sinking to his level. Giving up and admitting that it was a useful solution. And it wasn't. No matter how much she understood Murikabushi's perspective--she couldn't bring herself to really consider hurting someone. Maybe if she was absolutely cornered and her magic wouldn't work, but--under most circumstances, it felt like something she just didn't want to do.
And she didn't really have anything she could vent her frustrations on, except that she did, and she wanted to visit her Wonder anyway, to bring those precious starseeds Cryptomelane had given her as thanks for protecting him off Earth and into space. Maybe there, they would have an easier time making it to...wherever they were supposed to go. She'd heard mentions of a place called the "space cauldron," and she guessed maybe starseeds came from there? This wasn't the kind of starseed she was familiar with, really. Well, it was sort of like it, in that a starseed could make someone special, but....she'd never really liked that "indigo children" thing. It always sat wrong with her, to act like autistic kids were weird because they were from space, or whatever, and then pretend like they didn't need help or support because they were so special, and she'd always felt uncomfortable when she heard people talking about it in the store. But there had never really been anything for her to do about it, and honestly, the knowledge of what a real starseed was didn't really change that; it wasn't like she could explain it without explaining the whole magic is really real for real thing, and frankly, she didn't trust some of those people not to take the knowledge that their kids might actually be reincarnated aliens with magic powers and run with it into new, wild forms of conspiratorial thinking that the Internet had not yet known.
And that wasn't the point.
The point was, these starseeds were people's actual genuine souls, and Jupiter Butterfly had a responsibility to ensure that they got where they were going. Back to the cosmos, to re-enter the reincarnation cycle and return.
And wasn't there something gratifying about knowing that reincarnation was real. That people really could have old souls. That maybe most people did, if the universe was really fully populated once, the way the existence of so many Senshi from so many different worlds seemed to suggest.
It really was an incredible thing to think about, when she did. And it was her duty to ensure that these particular souls got the care they needed.
She'd put the four gems in a jewelry box and tucked that in her subspace, along with some gardening tools--she was starting to build up a fairly decent collection, plus the ones that were left behind from a thousand years ago, though the less she had to use the relics, the better she felt. It just felt risky, trusting metal that old--what if it was rusted, or weak, and it broke? Like, there was a non-zero chance it was magic metal, and maybe that would be helpful, but--still. It felt risky. And also, she liked her own gardening tools. They were cute and rainbow and hers, and it felt right to dig into the soil with her own hands, turning it over and removing the dead plants to make space for....she wasn't sure what. Maybe magical new growth, maybe plants from Earth, maybe she'd figure it out as she went along.
But she needed to do something to vent her frustration at Sailor Pink Tiger Elf Jerkface, and going up to her Wonder and ripping out dead plants to add to the compost box and make space for whatever she decided to make of it felt like an excellent way to handle the eight million things she was feeling and also the fact that she wanted to grab his tail and yank it, see how he liked being bullied.
She stood on the roof of a building a few blocks down from her own place, and took a deep breath. With a brief glance down at the city, she smiled to herself, and focused.
She found herself, in a moment, in the main room of the massive Idan greenhouse that was her Wonder, and she was already pleased to see that it was looking better--some of the improvements were her (cleared dirt and swept stones) and some were distinctly not (several window panes that had been shattered, once, but were now fully restored). Her hope was that someday, it would be more than just the structure that came back.
That maybe some of the vibrant flowers that had once bloomed here, and the strange animals and insects that lived among them, might return.
Ida was a planet alive, after all--and she felt certain that the more work she put into her Wonder, the more alive it would become. Maybe if she and the rest of the Ida Knights worked hard enough....
She didn't know. Maybe something special would happen. Or maybe they would have just worked hard and made the planet they shared a better place. Certainly it was easier to feel like one was making big changes when there were so many fewer people to deal with, and maybe fixing Sonora the Wonder wasn't fixing Earth, but it was still fixing something.
Before she set to work, though, she went to the workbench that she remembered her previous self favoring, and pulled out the little jewelry box. She set it on the table and opened it, and she wasn't sure if she was sad or relieved to see the starseeds still inside. On the one hand, it meant that they were still safe--but on the other, it meant that they hadn't moved on yet.
She was half-aware of her little wisp companion appearing next to her, and she sighed.
"I don't know if there's anything special I should say," Sonora started, "so I'll just...not do that? And stick to just....I hope this gets you a little closer to home. And I hope your journey the rest of the way is easy. And that when you come back to Earth, for your next lives, they're longer, and happier, and full of so much love you think you might burst."
It wasn't exactly a brilliant eulogy, but it was good enough, Sonora hoped. This wasn't exactly her specialty, after all.
She took a shuddery little breath. Her chest ached with grief for these four strangers, and all she could think about was how they'd deserved better than this.
To her surprise, her little wisp floated around in front of her--and then it leapt, and she opened her arms automatically, which was good, because halfway throguh, as it came towards her, it changed from little glowing circle to, in a flash of light, a large lop-eared rabbit, with black fur dotted with multicolored spots, and fluttering rainbow butterfly-like wings.
It landed in her arms, and Sonora pulled the creature into a hug, burying her face in its soft fur.
"Thank you, friend," she said, softly. "I....could you always do it?"
The rabbit whuffed, and she smiled.
"I suppose it doesn't matter, because you can now." Maybe it had been her care for it that made it feel safe enough to do this. Maybe it was just finally ready to show off that little party trick. Sonora didn't care--what mattered was that her little frined wasn't so little anymore. "You need a name, don't you?" She asked it, and the rabbit whuffed again, bumping its head against her cheek, which she took as confirmation.
She thought about it for a moment--and then the idea struck her, and she smiled.
"Arizona," she told it. "Your name is Arizona." It made a cheerful little chirping noise, which she took as approval.
For a long moment, she stood there, holding Arizona and staring down at the starseeds in the box. But standing around and staring wasn't going to fix what she wanted to fix, or accomplish what she needed to accomplish.
When she stepped away, she left the box open. Not that it mattered, but it felt wrong to just.....close them off and lock them away.
Then, she turned her attention to her own Wonder.
There was so, so very much work to so, and Sonora was, as always, ready to do it.
[wc: 1533 words]
