Potential chapter and writing sample, all that good stuff. Not entirely satisfied with it, but I'll probably end up rewriting half of this when it comes time to reuse it.





She could feel rope cutting through the gloves of her fuku,and loosely keeping the ankles of her boots together. The blindfold kept her from seeing who was in the room, but she could hear the scratching of a pen against paper over her shallow breathing. Akira was aware of a wet warmth pooling underneath her side on the cold cement floor, but she knew she should’ve been dead. She also knew that her true enemy wouldn’t resort to everyday materials for restraints.

A hiss of pain escaping her lips as she tried to sit up, sharply reminded of the two broken ribs. Her jaw clenched, not noticing the outside sound stopping until someone spoke. “Oh, good – you’re awake now!”

The sheer enthusiasm was attention grabbing. Like a giddy child presented with its favorite toy, except it was an adult’s voice. A thought that made her skin crawl. “Who … who are you?” she asked uncertainly, trying to keep it from reaching her voice.

A light laugh met her ears. “It can’t be that hard to guess, can it? How many would plunge into battle to save you? It’s not like you have any comrades.” She felt his hand touch her hair, running his fingertips through the battle soiled waves of white.

His voice was unfamiliar, though. It certainly wasn’t Katsumi. “I don’t know you,” she returned shortly, suppressing a shiver as the motions lightly tugged at the roots of her hair, his fingers caught in a small knot.

“Aww … You’re going to hurt my feelings,” he pouted, idly picking at the knot as he spoke. “Aren’t you even going to guess?”

The longer the conversation went on, the less time it was taking to convince her this man was a human. A somewhat unstable human. But even transformed, she didn’t know where she was. Nor did she know if he had a weapon. And, injured, she couldn’t press her luck unless she could convince him to take the blindfold off. Perhaps becoming a senshi had made her properly paranoid. Either way, a wrong guess might make him correct her. “Katsumi, maybe?”

“That elf dude who broke into your house? Nah. Try again, Miss Amazon,” he added, cheerfully oblivious to the tenseness creeping through her battle battered body. He’d been watching her? If he wasn’t an enemy trying to get an edge, that just made it creepier. A hand shook her shoulder. “Don’t you want to guess again?”

“No one else really comes to mind …”

“Shame. Guess I’ll have to just spill the beans, then.” Warm breath brushed her ear as he leaned down. “I’m your biggest fan, Hisako Akira,” he breathed, ignoring the flinch of pain as his arms circled the slash on her side, pulling her upright against him.

The senshi was rigid. “… You know my name?”

A strange giggle came from him. “It wasn’t that hard, tracking you down. Your little skirt doesn’t lend well to hiding who you are,” he chuckled, clearly grinning from the way his breath was much more apparent. His grip tightening on her wounded side even more, as if determined she shouldn’t wiggle free. Ha.

“If you’re supposedly my … fan, then why am I tied up?” Akira hissed between clenched teeth, determined not to cry out as fresh blood welled onto his arm and down the stained side of her fuku.

“About that – I figured you wouldn’t be too talkative since you always run from the camera. Y’see, I wanted to arrange a situation where we could talk all we wanted. Just you and me,” he continued on, sincerity dripping from his voice. “A few days of bonding time.”

It took all of her self control not to outright call him crazy at that. “I’m sorry, but that won’t be happening,” Akira returned slowly, her voice forcibly calm and steady. Firm. “I have a family to go home to. They’ll be worried otherwise.”

“Hmm … Maybe you’re right. It wouldn’t do to drive Daddy Dearest up the wall with worry, would it?” he mused, seemingly deep in thought. “Here’s an idea: I’ll stitch you up and take you home, and introduce myself as your new husband!”

Any hope she might’ve had for his sanity plummeted.



The house was surprisingly dark when he opened the door. Nebi’s familiar meow was all that greeted Masao as he flipped on the entryway light, stepping out of his shoes as the door clicked shut behind him. Petting his daughter’s cat before heading into the kitchen, he was already loosening his tie as he walked.

A cake sat on the middle of the table, a piece of blue stationary pinned underneath it. Turning on the lights as he passed, a wry smile curved his lips as he saw the green writing on the white icing that read “Happy 50^th!”. Plucking the paper from underneath the cake, the brown haired archeologist picked up the black and white tuxedo cat as he read.

“Welcome home, sorry I wasn’t here when you got in from your flight. I’ll try to be home as soon as
possible, something unexpected came up. Love you, Dad.

~ Akira.”


“I … don’t really think that’s an option either,” Akira stated bluntly after a moment, drawing her legs underneath herself as she spoke. Slowly trying to ease away from him, only for this grip to tighten more.

“Picky, picky … You should be a little more accommodating of your rescuer, Akira-chan,” he scolded, a hand cupping her scraped jawline, turning her face towards him.

“Okay … Tell me your real name,” she prompted after a moment of thought, hoping to keep him occupied. The longer he was kept amused, the better. But the way he was holding her, she certainly couldn’t get the blindfold off on her own. Not as tight as it was against her face.

“There we go. I knew you had it in you to be conversational,” he chirped, once again cheerful rather than pouting. “You can call me Izanagi-kun,” the strange man added, as if they were already close. His wistful thinking almost seeming like a reality to him. As if in reward for playing along with him, the knot came loose when he gave it two angled tugs, giving back her sight.

Cobalt eyes widening in surprise as she caught a glimpse of the walls behind him. Every one of them was covered in newspaper clippings and pictures. What looked like a hand drawn wall scroll displayed her in both school uniform and in fuku, labeled clearly as Hisako Akira, Sailor Sidus.

Her attention snapped back to him as his thumb brushed over the bruise on her cheek, catching the small smile that curved his lips. “Do you like it? I think the likeness is amazing,” Izanagi commented, ignoring the stray dark hairs that fell in his eyes as he spoke.

“… How long have you been watching me?”

Hum-hawing for a moment, he finally shrugged. “A few months or so,” the brunette guessed, seemingly unconcerned with that fact. Almost as if he considered his stalking to be a compliment, as if she were supposed to be flattered. But there was a hint of pride in his voice, at going uncaught.

Only for her to jerk away when his strangle-hold loosened as his mind wandered, landing roughly on the floor. Already starting to haul herself to her feet as he reached for her, fixing Izanagi with a steady stare. “You can untie me, and forget all about me, Izanagi … Or this could get worse. But I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve had a long day, and I just want to go home,” the white haired senshi said softly, dark gaze hardening.

A small smile curved his lips once more. “Why would I want to do that when I love you? You are home, Akira-chan.”

A faint laugh escaped her lips. “And you’re just a little bit … crazy,” the young woman returned tentatively, only to tense as his arm slung around her shoulder, trying to pull her back towards him.

“Isn’t love insanity?”

“This is obsession. If it was love, I wouldn’t be tied up, now would I?”

“I dunno. You seem to like getting in tight spots,” Izanagi shrugged, stepping closer when she locked her knees. Unfazed by her attempts to reason with him. This was getting her no where.

Suddenly allowing herself to drop, lashing out in attack – Izanagi landing flat on his back as her ankles swept underneath him, a startled cry cut off by her elbow in his windpipe. Maintaining the level pressure, even as she stared down at him.

Only then recognizing the madman.

The same person that had been afflicted with a youma right after she’d become Sidus. Pink scars from the Astral Lash, still faintly visible, peeked out of the collar of his loose white T-shirt. She’d thought he was unconscious after the painful transformation back, when she returned to her civilian attire.

Dizzying pain slamming into her during her moment of inattention, blood dripping onto his shirt. The gash in her side plugged with his fingers. Darkness threatening to overtake her vision as his hand gripped the sliced muscle, breath coming ragged.

Masao sighed as he glanced at the clock on the stove, chin resting on his interlaced fingers. It was already close to midnight.

Weekend or not, she wouldn’t stay out so late without calling, unless something was wrong. But what? It wasn’t as if she was a wild child. Akira had always been quiet, reserved.

He shoved his chair back after a moment, heading towards the phone in the hall. Starting to pick it up, until he saw the half demolished newspaper shoved underneath the end table. The front cover picture was a slender young woman, maybe in her teens. Although claw marks raked over the writing and half of the picture, no doubt thanks to Nebi, it was clear that the girl was still well in her youth.

And judging by what was left of the all white theme with colored trims; this was the Sailor Sidus he’d been hearing so much about when out of town. The fact that the warrior who had been protecting Tokyo, who looked so young, was shocking, though. She couldn’t have been even college age yet. Her home life would have to be hectic. He could just imagine it: Skipping classes in school, unexplained injuries, extreme protection of privacy, missing events …

His jaw set as the thought settled in his mind, all but burning a hole through the uncannily familiar remains of the picture. Tossing the paper back onto the floor, mounting the stairs two at a time to Akira’s room as he heard Nebi dive into it behind him. His daughter’s door opened easily, but even in the dark he could see her usually neat room looked a mess. A pile of laundry was threatening to spill over the basket in the corner of the room, sitting underneath the open window, her bed left unmade. Masao started to reach for the lamp on her vanity, only to trip over something left out on the floor. The lamp fell over as the light flickered on, the archeologist coming all too close to getting a cloud of makeup in his face as he caught his balance.

The yellowed light bathed a near obscene and unexpected amount of makeup cases, although he had a distinct feeling the smell wasn’t coming from that. Only for him to recoil as he glanced down at the spilled wastebasket, eyes widening in shock. Blood matted rags spilled onto the floor, blackening with a few days’ age.

Collapsing into the vanity chair after a long moment, head between his knees. Surely not his little girl … She couldn’t be. It didn’t seem right. A lone teenager fighting off an invasion, without even any help.

They would have to move. He couldn’t risk her. They could go to a different country, somewhere safe, out of the way.

But even as he thought about it, knowing why she was late, he realized that he couldn’t force her to give it up. It was Akira’s decision. She’d chosen to fight. He couldn’t make her run, not when so much was at stake. All he could do was support her from the shadows, until she chose to tell him.

Small paws landed on his lap as Nebi invited herself up, purring as she rubbed her head against him. Masao ran his hands through his hair as the cat kneaded his lap, begging to be petted. “You know … I feel pretty pathetic, for now knowing before now,” the archeologist admitted to the slender feline with a sigh, shaking his head.



Her side screamed in agony as she came to. Trembles wracked her pale frame as she fought to keep from retching, bile rising in her throat. Still feeling the phantom grip of iron on slashed muscle, all too aware that the stomach of her fuku was soaked with blood now.

Warm yellow-orange light flickered before her eyes as they opened, seeming to melt together and apart for several long moments as she stared at them with half-lidded eyes. It didn’t register that they were candles in her exhaustion-plagued mind until she noticed a hand moving some back, only to tense once more. It was particularly dark now, though. The fluorescent light overhead seemed to be out.

Izanagi’s hand slid underneath the side of the half conscious senshi’s face, tilting it towards him in the fire-hued light. “… You made me, but I didn’t want to hurt you,” the brunette murmured, mirroring her previous words back at her. The candlelight making his ocher stare glassy, youma-like. Watching Akira like a hawk as her full awareness began to return, ignoring the overhead light when it flickered on and off. Noting how her chest barely moved with each shallow breath, pale skin becoming sallow with blood loss.

The senshi slowly inhaling as she observed her darkened surroundings, quiet. Entertaining his fancies was no longer high on her priorities. Not when the chance of escape through that was obliterated. And his evidence of the connection between herself and Sailor Sidus … it had to be destroyed. If anyone found it, all of Tokyo would know. And she’d die within the hour of that happening.

Then, everything would fall apart.

A hiss of pain escaped her lips as Izanagi’s hand touched the wound again, jolting her back to focus. Jerking away from him, darkness threatening to overtake the room as candles were knocked down. A flickering light slowly rolling away from them, leaving a trail of hot wax in its wake.

Her vision blurred as she wrenched herself to her feet, another onslaught of dizziness slamming into the weakened warrior as she fought to keep her balance. Akira stumbled as the rope around her ankles jerked back, only for the knot to come loose – Nearly sprawling on her face before catching her balance again, eyes sliding closed as she reached a wall. The senshi’s jaw clenching as she leaned against it, only for her eyes to snap back open.

Furls of noxious smoke rising from the wall next to her, blackening the air further in the confined shed as flames jumped up the old newspaper on the wall. Leaping towards the roof already as Akira shoved herself away from the paper-laden surface. Waves of heat rolled off of the spreading flames as she darted for the door, only rattling as she tried the knob. One that was relatively smooth as she fumbled for a lock. “Damn it!” she hissed, cobalt gaze snapping to Izanagi as she kicked the door.

The brunette was desperately trying to save his work, ripping the notes and clippings off the wall in random patches. Sparks sprinkling the floor and the pieces of his bundle that he was dropping, feverish muttering drowned out under the growing roar of the fire. Akira’s breath hitched in her throat as a coughing fit threatened to strike, smoke driving her throat raw. The white haired senshi biting her lower lip as she turned back to the door, taking stance. Kicking above the lock as her balance wavered, a crack racing up the wood.

Stumbling back a few steps, before dashing full tilt at the door – ramming her shoulder into the weakened wood, splinters popping up with a loud snap. Acrid smoke pouring into the night as Akira staggered out.

Her senshi uniform fading out of existence as the grass rushed to meet her, red spotting the side of her yellow tank-top as she rolled onto her side. Shrill sirens cutting through the night air as Akira coughed into the ground, vaguely aware of the blazing crescendo pluming behind her. The young woman slowly falling still as heavy darkness snuffed her vision, the stars going black. Slipping into a world where there was no pain, no struggle.





Something was beeping at her. Her alarm clock? No, that wasn’t right. It kept repeating the same periodic note. A faint sigh escaped the white haired girl’s lips, turning her head as light fell upon her face. The grip on her hand suddenly tightened. “Akira?”

That voice … She had missed something. It was something important. “… Dad?”

Her vision was a little blurry as she forced her eyes open, despite the temptation to just go back to sleep. But the familiar green eyes, lined with weariness and concern, were enough to keep her attention as he nodded. Her throat constricting as she realized the beeping was a heart monitor, falling silent. What could she tell him?

Any scrambling for a cover story was cut short when he suddenly leaned over, a gentle hug lifting her shoulders from the hospital bed. A wet droplet hitting her cheek as he held her, shaking slightly. Crying? “… You have no idea how scared I was of losing you …” he whispered, voice shaking.

But reminding her why she fought for so long.

(Gah ... It completely messed up my formatting. Allow me some time to fix it.)

EDIT: Done with the rearranging.

EDIT 2: If you do decide to comment, I have a few specific spots of feedback it'd be fantastic to get -

1) Did you have a favorite section? Why?
2) What did you think of Masao and his reactions?
3) What did you think of Izanagi, and how his mood fuxuated so often? Did you think it believable?
4) In a usually fluffy or somewhat light fandom, how was the realism factor?

I thought this was really well done. I liked the details a lot, and the action really drove the story along. I did get a bit lost in the scene in the. . . bedroom? The one where Sidus starts the fire.

And for your specific request for critique:

1) Did you have a favorite section? Why? I rather liked the section where her father figures out she's Sailor Sidus. I thought it was a good series of connections that could be believable. Also, I'm a bit partial to archaeologists, since I'm studying to be one, and by knowing the study, his connections work rather well.
2) What did you think of Masao and his reactions? I think they were believable. I wish I knew a bit more about his personality to really understand why he would be so quiet in his realization. I would imagine some people being a bit louder when they figure out that their daughter is a Sailor Scout.
3) What did you think of Izanagi, and how his mood fuxuated so often? Did you think it believable? I think it is believable, since people who are that kind of disconnected from the world and obsessed can easily swing moods. I really would never want to be tied up in a room with him, I can easily say that. I am interested to see if he still retains a bit of the youma inside of him, or if his obsession would have occurred without that transformation. Also raises an interesting question about all the other people who have been changed into youma.
4) In a usually fluffy or somewhat light fandom, how was the realism factor? I think the piece was rather realistic. It is very different from what you would expect from the fandom, but I think that such breaks from the norm can go rather well and be refreshing. As long as they aren't too dark. I hope there are a few fluffy/light moments in this story that we have yet to see.

Oh, wow - Thank you for such a detailed response, Zait! *huggles appreciatively* ^^

And, that room is actually Izanagi's backyard shed. Sorry that it wasn't clear. Direct responses to each individual question:

1) I'm glad that that part in particular stood out. Far too often, the parents are ignored in magical girl/sentai mangas or animes.

2) Well, when I get to writing this story fully, I'm certainly going to be expanding upon his personality. He's a very nice man, though. ^^

3) *Wry smile.* Well, I can't say I'd want to be tied up around him, either. Being his mental stability is so shaken, though, it could go either way depending on how you saw it (whether or not the source of his obsession came from his possession). But, this was a question that's always bugged me about the magical girl/sentai media. Hence why it was dwelled upon here.

4) *Nods.* It is certainly different. Although some may exist, I've never seen writing of this tone in the fandom. But, no worries - There still is some fluffy spots.

And thanks again for reviewing! It's my first one on this site to receive. <3

Aw, I'm glad that I could be the first person to review for you.

About #3, you did bring up a good question. It's one I nearly want to think about myself, and how to incorporate it into my own fanfic. Anyways, I do like to see how you keep that going. I do really like how you're working on bringing up a few of the flaws that can happen in magical girl media, and generally any kind of secret identity media. I hope you keep posting more here, or at least a link to keep reading!

Mmm. It's never brought up again in any of the MG/S media. Surely there have to be some repercussions, true? The victims aren't just "targets of the day". At least, in the way I see it.

And, once I get started on this story as whole, I'll definitely put it up here. ^_^

(Although, as fair warning, it will get rather dark at times. Her first power up comes from being on the receiving end of a Curb-Stomp Battle. [See TVtropes])

Okay, update: When I get around to writing the entire story, there will also be a few AU spinoffs. One of them will be based off of this fragment's accidental "For Want of a Nail" scenario that snuck in. ^^