Stars That Fell A Million Years Ago (Makoto Kino)
|Stars That Fell A Million Years Ago (Makoto Kino)|
|Date of Cutscene:||07 February 2016|
|Synopsis:||Back from the moon, Makoto dreams of another life, and of how it ended.|
|Cast of Characters:||Makoto Kino|
Safely back on Earth, at home in her bed in her cozy little apartment, Makoto Kino dreams.
As her eyes pass over the broken ruins, something a long way off - the shadow of a pit in the ground, like a crater left by a massive explosion - snags her attention. For a moment, Sailor Jupiter has to clamp down firmly on her self-control to keep from shivering.
Exploring the ruins of the moon, the still air thick with memories of another time, another life. Her steps lead her through the fallen chunks of broken and blasted crystal, slowly and unerringly, until she reaches the edge of that pit. It's only one of many that litter the landscape, but nevertheless looking down into it she feels a creeping sense of dread.
Under the rubble, the bottom of the crater has been fused into rough, blasted glass. Whatever was at the center of the explosion, there wouldn't have been much left behind afterwards.
Battle rages around her, the shouts of furious voices and the clash of weapon against weapon, explosions like claps of thunder. The Moon Kingdom has always been so peaceful, but now a storm has broken and the air is full of smoke and violence.
Betrayal is a knife in the side, a sharp and unexpected pain that leaves her gasping, unable to breathe. She wants to flee to the solace of her garden, curl up in the comfort of its fragrant hollows and weep until she's empty, but the Moon needs its warriors and there is no time for tears.
The observatory door remains closed and barred. She stands and looks at it helplessly; he's never shut her out so completely before.
"They chose to become our enemies." She clenches her fists, throat tight around the words. "That's all they are now. No matter who it is, if they threaten the Princess I won't hold back."
She makes herself believe it, drowns out the grief in her heart with thundering rage.
The storm courses through her, a wild chaotic power flowing from somewhere older and deeper than she ever knew existed; she's wide open, half blind with the effort of channeling it. Ahead of her, braced to shield her, he grins up at the churning clouds: "Hang on, Thunderbird. You wouldn't want to let this get the best of you before you get the chance to hit me again, would you?"
Across the battlefield, clear in sight but far too far away, she sees the prince fall. Instantly she's running, plunging through the rebels with force enough to send bodies flying, but it's too far, too late, and suddenly everything else seems to fall away into silence as the Princess takes up the sword and plunges it through her own body.
The world shatters. Her scream rips her throat, drowned out by a catastrophic BOOM of a lightning strike.
The wind roars in her ears; her mouth tastes of tears and ash and all around her white-hot lances of wild, undirected lightning stab down from the sky. "Hold your ground!" someone bellows, "It's only one girl!" but none of the soldiers can touch her, no one can even come near through the battering wind that swirls around her, slashing with electrified leaves. She's not a girl any more - she's an avatar of thunder and lightning, an elemental force of fury and despair.
The distant pillar of starlight that momentarily splits the clouds draws her like a beacon and she charges towards it, riding wings of lightning. She has failed, everything that mattered is lost, but it's not over. It will never be over until she kills him with her own hands.
His armor is blackened, his weapon red with the blood of the Moon's defenders, long dark hair whipping in the storm wind like the cape that flies behind him spattered with dark stains of mud and blood. His eyes as he lifts his face toward her are not his own.
They meet in a roar of thunder.
Makoto flounders out of her bed, struggling with the tangle of covers until she lands on the floor on hands and knees with her heartbeat thudding in her ears and adrenaline jangling her nerves. In the darkness of her room she can still half feel herself burning up from the inside, vision red around the edges.
Scrambling to her feet, she stumbles into the bathroom and gives the faucet's knob a sharp twist. The water's cold as it rushes over her hands; she ducks her head to splash it over her face and lets the shock of it start to bring her back to herself. When she looks up her face in the mirror is a pale blur in what dim glow has filtered in from the windows over her bed, eyes dark and hollow and unfocused under the wet dark curls of her bangs. It looks like someone else's face.
She shudders and pushes away from the sink, goes back out into her bedroom and starts grabbing for whichever clothes her hands find first.