#wait- there should be a whole Sailor Moon-Tale AU

[nosleepgummitato]

FINALLEH!

The bbg is officially finished now.

This is our Sailor Splat folks, I hope y'all like it.

:>

[quirky-hero-imagines]

Song of the lost

Pairings: Eijiro Kirishima x Siren!F!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, romance

Warnings: Mentions of; death, drowning and cannibalism. Cursing

AU: This takes place in a fishing village, around 1710. Quirks are far and few between and are seen as a curse.

This is for the @bnhabookclub Mermay event!

The prompts that I used are: “You look beautiful in the sunlight.” & “It’s alright, come here.”

The waves were peaceful that day, their slamming against the rocks barely making a sound. The sailors remarked that Poseidon must have smiled upon them.

As blessed as they may have been, Kirishima’s mind was filled with dark clouds. He sat upon the low wall of the village, gazing mindlessly over the shimmering sea.

No man nor woman would regard him as any more than a poor sob born in a poor fisher’s village at first glance, but alas his misfortune ran deeper than that. His skin could harden to levels no being known to man could. The revelation of this, at the mere age of 4, terrified his parents and sent the village into a frenzy. The curse that people whispered about had finally found their village. Potions, ointments, and spells were desperately thrown at the young boy, but to no avail.

After the day of the first manifestation, Kirishima had been shunned, barely tolerated by his own family and village. As soon as he could vent for himself his family send him to live in isolation at the edge of the village, and so he had stayed.

The salty air rubs harshly against Kirishima’s skin as a gust of wind blows past him. He had waited for something to change, it did not have to be something big, just any sign that things were looking up. But nothing came and he was left lonely and bitter.

He jumped off the low ledge, feet landing on the hot sand of the beach beneath it. His boots felt heavy as he slogged through the sand, crimson eyes focused on the edge of the beach. What was waiting there for him was something that many sailors had nightmares about when they lived to tell the tale. The sirens.

The dark rock of the cave felt smooth against Kirishima’s hand as he entered. There was no sound besides the echo of his footsteps and the soft dripping of water. The further he entered, the more faded the bright rays of sun became behind him, leaving him squinting to make out figures in the dark. Coming here had been a clear death wish, but as he made his way he considered turning around, his resolve wavering.

Kirishima’s footsteps slowed as he began stepping in shallow pools of water. He could feel from the low temperature of the water that it was still, left there between the rocks by a wave. When his booth encountered warm water, he quickly retreated it, eyes widening as shining figures began moving beneath the surface.

The cave filled with the light coming from the water, shimmers reflecting on the rocks. Kirishima took a few steps back as a sweet voice began calling out.

“Sailors come and sailors try.                                                                                To push me in so they can save my life.”

A shiver ran down his spine, muscles growing weak as the intoxicating song continued.

“They wonder why I feel like sand.                                                                            Saying ‘come on in, the water’s fine.’”

The creature who the voice belonged to swam in graceful circles up to the surface, faint lights dancing far beneath her.

“Poor sailor…                                                            You fell in love with some girl you made up.”

The siren’s head breached the smooth surface as she finished her song. “And I remind you of her well enough.”

 Kirishima’s breath hitched in his throat as he witnessed her beauty. Her eyes shone like gems, vibrant color circling her slit pupils as they dilated when she smiled.

“It’s alright, come here. Come to me” The siren spoke softly.

He took a step forward, balling his fist so he could dig his nails in the soft flesh, not wanting to get enthralled by this creature completely. “I do not fear you.”

She laughed, a chittering sound. “Oh? What a brave man you are.” Her tail came out of the water, the pale scales shimmered bleakly in the cave as she wagged it, seeming amused. She came closer to the edge of the water and dragged her upper body out of it. Her elbows planted themselves on the rough rock surface as she rested her face in her hands.

The siren’s tail curled so she could show off her almost translucent fin. “Tell me, sailor, if you do not fear me, do you desire me?”

A slight blush spread on Kirishima’s cheeks at her obvious seducing. “I do neither!”

A look of annoyance sprung across her face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. “Then what have you sought out our cave for?”

Kirishima stilled, knowing the answer but not wanting to admit it. He had wanted to be equal to his peers his whole life, at least like this he could have given himself a sailor’s death and been equal in death. His eyes averted from the Siren’s glistening ones to the salty water behind her. “I seek death.”

The smirk on her face grew into a wide grin. “In that case, me and my sisters will be more than happy to oblige.”

His gaze fell on her sharp maulers as she talked, wondering if it really would be a painless death like it was rumored to be.

The Siren noticed the hesitation in the human before her as she observed him closely. Her tail slowly lowered back into the water as her pupils turned into small slits. She had her eyes on her prey and she had no intention of letting him go that easily.

“Ever since I crashed at sea.

I feel like I can never leave.”

“Even though I stay on land.                                                                              Still salty water in my ears.”

The Siren’s singing echoed through the cave as Kirishima let himself fall to his knees. His eyes closed as he leaned forward, hearing the water splash as she slit herself back in it.

“Ever since I crashed at sea.                                                                                       No one came to rescue me.”

Her hands moved to gently cup his face in them which caused his eyes to jolt open. Kirishima stared intently into the creature’s eyes as he felt her cold touch against his skin. As she slowly dragged him towards the water all he thought of was her touch.

“So I sit here on the rock.

Singing out my siren song.”

Hot tears streamed down his face. He had not felt another’s touch in years and his heart over spilled with joy as her fingers caressed his cheeks. In what would be his last moments he was finally happy.

The Siren froze as the human’s crimson eyes bore into hers as he cried. She felt that which was so recognizable to her, brewing deep beneath the surface. Loneliness, betrayal, hate, and anguish.

She could hear her sisters cry out from under the waves as she pushed the human away, further onto the rocks. This was a human she could not kill.

Kirishima stared at her in confusion, had his skin hardened and scared the Siren? Slowly, he crept closer again on his knees. “Why did you spare me?” He asked, his voice shook with emotion.

She delved herself under the water until he could only see her eyes, but her voice was just as clear. “We do not kill our own.”

He felt shock rock his body at her words. Without thought his hands had darted forward into the water, grabbing onto the creature’s shoulders. “Because I’m cursed?! Is that it?!” She hissed as he shook her form, voice echoing loudly as he screamed.

The Siren delved up from the water, her face only inches from his. Anger darkened her features as her voice boomed through the cave. “You fool! Humans are the only creatures who make blessings a curse!” The words were spat out like venom.

“Your so-called curse, however, has nothing to do with it.” Her chest heaved heavily as she spoke. “We sing the songs of the lost, we are the abandoned.” She told him before she shrugged off his hands.

Kirishima’s hands had stayed still in the warm water, eyes filled yet again with tears. He should feel happy that the Siren spared him, but all he felt was confusion and even sorrow as he looked into her eyes. “What happened to you?” He whispered.

The Siren had opened her mouth but closed it again as it seemed the words got stuck in her throat. She stuck her head under the water and talked in a language Kirishima could not understand. The high-pitched tones reminded him of the dolphins that would swim by the town every few moons.

She looked without joy when she resurfaced, wails sounding from beneath the water as she joined her sisters in a song.

“Every sailor knows.

As long a woman roams.”

“The storms will swallow the ship.                                                                               As thunder cracks its whip.”

It sounded like more than thirty intoxicating voices were filling the cave as they sang. The Siren’s expression cold, brows locked together.

“The curse will follow all.                                                                                 Until she takes her fall.”

“Give her to the sea.                                                                                Only then shall you be free.”

As they finished Kirishima understood what the story behind their song was. Centuries back the superstitions about women on ships had started. Many had suffered the fate of drowning when the voyages were met with misfortune before being banned onboard all together.

He had frowned as the Siren in front of him and her sisters stayed silent. “I’m sorry.” He had told her remorsefully.

She nodded her head at him. “I’m sorry too.”

“Leave now human, you still have a choice.” She had suddenly hissed out and turned her back to Kirishima before diving away.

He stared at the water for minutes, but no lights nor movements could be spotted anymore.

His boots felt heavy as he left the cave reluctantly, the puffy sleeves of his blouse drenched in saltwater.

As Kirishima laid awake that night the silence in his cabin felt deafening. His thoughts were filled with the Siren’s voice and her fiery eyes.

He had been given another shot at life, but he was unsure what to do with it.

His eyes had flung open as a voice, carried by the wind, entered through his window. It was her; he was certain of it.

As he listened to her, he felt his heart rapidly thump in his chest. Even as she only harmonized, he felt the emotion in the sound. She was lonely, calling out for what he hoped was him.

She must have succeeded after all, he thought as he rolled onto his side to face the window. She had taken his soul.

Kirishima returned to the cave every day for weeks, but she would not show.

Finally, during a full moon, he had seen her again. As he walked the beach with his burning torch in hand, he saw her form peeking out of the waves. He had eagerly waved his free hand at her before retreating a shell from his tattered bag.

The Siren curiously had moved closer to the shore as he approached the water. Kirishima’s arm reached forward as he offered her the Angulate wentletrap shell.

An amused expression showed on her face. “You give me a shell?”

Kirishima felt flustered as she gently took it out of his hand. “I-I realize you must see them every day, nonetheless I wanted to give this one to you.” He smiled down at her, witnessing her pupils become so round that they were almost human-like as he spoke. “I have had that one for years, kept it on my shelve and all. But ever since I’ve met you it’s beauty only reminds me of you.”

She froze, wide eyes stared up at him. Kirishima shook his head and scratched the back of it in embarrassment. “O-of course your beauty is far greater.”

The Siren cupped the shell in one hand and stroked it with the other absentmindedly. “You flatter me, human.”

“Kirishima!” He blurted out in response. She blinked in confusion and tilted her head slightly. “Gesundheit.”

They stared at each other before Kirishima burst out in laughter. “Thank you but uh that’s my name. Eijiro Kirishima.”

The Siren looked flustered as she scoffed. “Oh, well, humans names change a lot over centuries.” She turned her back, brazing to swim away but he quickly called out. “What is your name?”

She looked back over her shoulder and her eyes shone brilliantly in the light of the moon. “Y/N.”

After the day of the full moon Kirishima would visit her cave daily, and this time around his calls would be answered.

They talked from midday till sundown almost daily, after which she would disappear under the waves. She talked a lot less than him, but even so, she shared her stories. What she remembered of her life as a human, which was not much, stories of life underwater and the many sailors that she had torn apart.

He could not help but feel a bit uneasy when her eyes would sparkle as she described the taste differences between man. He wondered if that hint of danger is what made people distance themselves from his as well.

After another two moon cycles, Kirishima felt completely bewitched by his Siren.

Finally, after all these years, he felt like there had been a change. He had someone who did not flinch away from his touch, who looked at him like an equal and did not treat him differently.

One day she had asked to bring her a piece of string and to meet her at the Devil’s rocks.

Kirishima was familiar with the spot, there was nothing odd about it, only having earned its name because the ships would break on the sharp rocks that stuck out of the water there.

 He gripped the black string in his hand tightly as he approached, heart beating fast as he saw her sitting on one of the rocks. The scales on her tail looked like pearls as the sun directly shone upon them, her long hair dried up slightly as it covered her chest, only the tips of her fin lazily hanging in the water.

Kirishima had no trouble imagining why many men crashed their ships upon witnessing a Siren as he took in her form. The hot air blew from behind and puffed up his blouse as well as ruffling through his long raven locks. He saw her eyes dart towards him as his scent carried to her on the wind.

She flashed her enchanting smile at him. “Ahoy Sailor, nice weather seems to have been bestowed upon us.” She said teasingly as he returned her smile.

“You look beautiful in the sunlight.” Kirishima told her and had made his way the shoreline.

She laughed and arched her back, leaning back to have more of the sun caress her skin. “Your sweet words do my ego no good.”

He snickered and put his hand in the water to feel the temperature. The hot days of lately had warmed the waters up nicely. “I simply speak the truth.” He told her. His eyes went from the water back to her face, and he could have sworn a slight blush adorned it.

She looked at him as well after moments had passed. “Come swim with me.” She told him before diving into the water.

Kirishima entered the water cautiously as he kept his eyes on her swimming form. When he was deep enough that he could not stand anymore, she approached him swiftly.

Her lips had pressed against his with an unexpected force, almost knocking him underwater before she had wrapped her arms around him to steady him. He desperately kissed her back as emotions flooded his being. He could barely believe it as he got what he had wanted.

She slowly pulled away from him and a gentle smile showed on her face as she looked at him. “I have something for you. It will do you well after you receive your gift.” She told him, leaving him confused.

Kirishima wanted to ask her what she was talking about, but he was silenced as she showed him the string he had brought her. She must have taken it when she was holding him, he thought.

On the string, a sharp tooth had been attached. “What is this?” He asked, even more confused than before.

She opened her mouth, pointing at the back upper row, where indeed one of her teeth were missing. “It’s a Siren’s tooth, mine to be more specific, to protect you on your journeys.” She told him.

Kirishima shook his head and looked at her as if she were mad as she hung the necklace around his neck. “What journeys? Y/N you know I can step foot on a ship just as little as you.”

She rolled her eyes at him and cupped his face in her cold hands. “Patience, it will be clear soon.”

Her eyes slowly traced over his face as she burned the image of him into her mind. She thought he looked handsome even with that silly look on his face. His tan skin, those intense eyes, that always tangled hair and the rough stubbles under her hands being things she never wanted to forget.

Her lips pressed against his for she presumed to be the final time before she spoke. “Your life will finally be one you deserve, Eijiro. I will bestow on you a gift, and then I will not see you again.”

Kirishima looked at her with wide eyes. He wanted to protest, but it felt as if he was paralyzed.

“A kiss for you sailor.                                                                              May fortune now tailor to you.”

“I will watch over you.                                                                               Attach will my soul.”

“I’ll gleam beneath the surface.     Even when it may not seem so.”

“Live now my sailor.                                                                             Remember what I give.”

“I will be yours to keep.                                                                             And so I will sleep.”

Kirishima felt warmth fill his body as he watched her whole body gleam. She smiled at him sweetly before she fell slack. He had caught her just in time before she disappeared under the waves, tears falling as he brought her the shoreline.

What had she done?

He laid her down on the damp sand, small waves rolling over them both as he sobbed.

She had blessed him. He would now have a life full of gold, happiness, and adventure waiting on him.  A being that was supposed to only be capable of bringing curses upon men had given him the ultimate blessing.

Kirishima shook his head, hands shaking as he did not let go of her limp body. His eyes cast up to the sky as a snarl showed on his face. “You granted her blessing. Now return my fortune!” He had screamed.

He knew that something always had to be taken for something to be given, but he refused this with all his soul.

The small white clouds that decorated the sky here and there drew closer to him. He heard a loud hiss from the waves, filled with spite.

Then a loud gasp filled his ears and he looked down at his lover with tear-filled eyes.

She was there, eyes open wide as she screamed out. As she scrambled away from him Kirishima noticed in shock that her tail was gone, two legs resting on the sand.

Y/N covered herself in embarrassment as he reached a hand out towards her. “Who are you?! Where am I?!”

He felt his heart crack at her words. Of course, it had taken something yet again.

Kirishima braced himself against the tears that were threatening to fall. He had her back and that was all that mattered at that moment.

She looked around in shock, not recognizing anything she saw. The last thing she remembered was a ship and a terrible storm.

Kirishima took off his shirt and quickly offered It to her. She nod her head gratefully before she put it on, eyes still looking at him with suspicion.

“I know you are scared, but I promise you everything will be fine. I will explain everything, and it will sound crazy, but it’s the truth.” He told her and slowly helped her up and out of the water.

“Because you simply speak the truth.” She said, both looking at the other in shock.

“Y-yes that’s right!” Kirishima could then not hold back the tears that fell, hope swelling in his chest.

It would take time, but he was certain that every piece of her memory would return. His family, peers, and job offers had returned to him, after all. And when it did, he had everything he could have ever wished for.

[diddykongfan]

(my heart is a kaleidoscope)

The “Emma and Graham are Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask” AU that literally no one asked for, but you’re all getting anyway. Previous writings in the verse can be found here, here, and here; but, as I have always intended, I have gone back to the beginnings of the verse to tell the story.

This part starts out heavily  OUAT 1x01 Pilot (with some alterations to backstory & curse elements in order to make the Sailor Moon thing even sort of work), before taking an abrupt turn into a place where almost everything is different (because of the Sailor Moon thing, obviously, the turn we took led us over to the first chapter/episode of that instead). I’m trying not to do the entire present day section of the OUAT pilot, though, so there is some skipping about.

I have loosely (very loosely) planned out following four story arcs which combine ideas from both source canons. Of course, that may be my head being more ambitious than my time & muse, but we shall see.

Not a whole heck of a lot of Graham in this part (and only in his Tuxedo Mask persona), but, you know. it’s already more than 3500 words and, like i said, i’m kind of skipping around both pilots and trying not to completely rehash either one. That means making decisions about where and when and if to include certain aspects. And this chapter feels right to me as it currently is.

arc one, dark kingdom/dark curse, chapter 1/?

Emma Swan has no memories before waking in the woods at age 14, with four other girls who had the same problem – they all five knew their names, but nothing else.

She hasn't seen any of those girls since they were all put in foster care and split up.

And she hasn't let anyone close since she was 16 and she thought that– well. It doesn't matter what she'd thought. She had been wrong. Painfully so. But it's been a lonely 12 years, in the meantime, and as she blows out the candle on the cheap cupcake she bought herself, she lets the inkling of a wish expel with her breath.

And then there's a knock on the door, her head snapping towards the sound.

If she believed, in anything, she might think that some force up there was somehow granting the wish she may have sort of just made (please not another birthday alone). But she doesn’t believe, so – she’s not sure what to think. Someone at the wrong apartment, probably (it’ll be another birthday alone, won’t it?).

And she opens the door to see a kid.

(Clean. Not malnourished. Nice quality clothes. Kid comes from money. Although, as far as anyone could tell when they were found, the same could be said for her and the other girls. Still, no one ever did figure out who they actually were.)

“Um… Can I help you?” she asks. It has to be a wrong door. There’s no other explanation. Other than that, she’s still trying to figure out how she should proceed. There’s a kid, at her door, and that is not something that generally happens.

And if the appearance of a child at her doorstep wasn’t strange enough – “Are you Emma Swan?” – looking for her. No parents in sight. Just the kid, and the bag on his back.

“Yeah. Who are you?” There’s no sense denying, no matter how confused she may be. And giving an answer is probably the only way she’ll get answers in return, so-

“My name’s Henry. I’m your son,” he announces. Like it’s obvious.

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, too stunned to react. The kid seems to take her hesitation as an invitation, brushing past her into the room. So not what she was hoping would happen – not that she quite knows what she was hoping would happen. Maybe that she’d blink and this whole thing would be a figment of her imagination?

Finally, her brain catches up to her situation, and she attempts to take control of whatever this is that’s going on here – “Whoa! Hey, kid? Kid? Kid?” As she follows him into the room, she lets the door close – she isn’t about to let any prying neighbors in on this business, if she can’t help it. “I don’t have a son.” Or anyone else, for that matter, no parents, no friends, no one. She doesn’t have anyone. And as far as she’s aware, that’s how it’s always been. “Where are your parents?”

“Ten years ago, did you give a baby up for adoption?” The exactness of his tone makes her pause. He came here knowing what he was doing, that’s for sure. Still, she’s not a mother. She gave that up. Tried to make sure that there was no way that the baby could find her. Hoped that he would never want to, that the family that adopted him would be enough. “That was me.” Ten years and a handful of months. He’ll be going on 11, won’t he? But she needs – she can’t confront this, not yet.

“Give me a minute,” she requests, and then, though she’s not proud of it, she shuts herself in the bathroom.

(This can’t be happening. She couldn’t be a mother – not back then. And now? No, she doesn’t have that right any more. Signed it away.)

(This is happening. He found her, somehow. Despite every precaution she took with the closed adoption.)

(This can’t be happening. Why would it be? He was supposed to get a good life, a loving family. He was supposed to never wonder or care about her.)

“Hey, do you have any juice?”

(This is happening. There is a kid on her doorstep that says he’s…)

“Never mind. Found some.”

(This is actually happening. Even though it can’t. Even though she has to put an end to it, as soon as possible. Biology aside, she doesn’t have a son.)

When she’s pulled herself together enough to try and face this, she exits the bathroom to find the kid – Henry – drinking her orange juice straight out of the bottle. She’s adopted her best stern-and-stoic expression, no-nonsense. But before she can say anything, try, once more, to take control of the situation, the kid smiles at her.

“We should probably get going.”

“Going where?”

“I want you to come home with me,” he requests, and, no. She’s not – she’s not doing this. She doesn’t need to be forced to intrude on a life that’s got to be better than anything she could have given the kid. She was nobody, back then, a lonely teenager who had nothing, who was in jail. Couldn’t have been a mother then, had no life to give the baby. She isn’t a mother now, not just because the kid walked into her apartment saying he was her son, like that makes it all cut-and-dry. No, now, she’s still nobody, still gets the feeling every day that she’s… Nothing. That her entire sense of identity – tenuous as it is, sometimes, with the missing years – is worthless.

“Okay, kid. I’m calling the cops.” In a few strides, she’s across the room, phone already in her hand.

“Then I’ll tell them that you kidnapped me,” the boy states, no hesitation.

And at that, she pauses. “And they’ll believe you, because I’m your birth mother.”

“Yep.” He seems awfully pleased with himself, like he knows for a fact he’s won whatever game it is he thinks he’s playing, barging into her life like this – but she’s not exactly as fooled as he seems to think she is.

“You’re not gonna do that,” she declares, confident. Of course, he meets her with confidence of his own –

“Try me.”

She lets herself smile, for a moment. Because here, she finally has him. Finally has the upper hand.

“You’re pretty good. But here’s the thing, there’s not a lot that I’m great at in life. But I have one skill. Let’s call it a super power. I can tell when anyone is lying. And you, kid? Are.”

She starts to dial, but then, in a tone much more deflated than before- “Wait. Please don’t call the cops. Please. Come home with me.”

And somehow, all at once, she can feel her resolve crumble.

“Where’s home?”

“Storybrooke, Maine.”

…

The kid has a book, it turns out.

Well, the backpack probably should have given that away, but give her a break for a second? She was a little busy freaking out about the kid finding her to consider what was in his bag.

It’s a book of fairy tales, from the looks of it, and he’s reading it pretty intently while they’re on the road.

Maybe it’s a bad idea, because she’s trying to remain detached, so that she can get this over with and go back to her life, the reason that she’s calling him kid instead of Henry, trying to think in the same terms, but – she tries to engage him about the book anyway, asking “What’s that?”

(It’s going to be a long couple hours either way, but she’d maybe rather it wasn’t a long uncomfortable silence.)

“I’m not sure you’re ready.”

Well, that’s not cryptic or anything.

“Not ready for some fairy tales?”

“They’re not fairy tales. They’re true. Every story in this book actually happened.”

“Of course they did.” Her sarcasm is half-muttered, under her breath, but the kid calls her out on it.

“Use your super power. See if I’m lying.”

It doesn’t feel like the kid is lying, but it wouldn’t. If he’s really convinced of something like that, then to him… It is true.

But that doesn’t make it true. There’s a difference. There’s always been a difference. She’s gotten pretty good at understanding that much.

“Just because you believe something doesn’t make it true.”

“That’s exactly what makes it true. You should know more than anyone.”

What? No, that’s not how it works. Not at all. People believe things that aren’t true all the time. She had believed that the nice woman from the state would be able to find out where she had come from, how she had gotten to the woods with no memories – that was what the woman had said, when they’d talked. It’d never happened. She had believed that Neal was a good person, who loved her, who wouldn’t abandon her. Clearly, that hadn’t been true.

If there’s something she knows more than anyone, it’s that believing something doesn’t make it true. That you can believe and be so very wrong.

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re in this book.” He says it so confidently she almost believes him, for a moment. After all, there was that chunk of time that she can’t remember, everything before that day in the woods. Still… Whatever happened back then, whoever she was, she has a hard time believing that it would be in a book of fairy tales.

“Oh, kid. You’ve got problems.”

“Yep. And you’re gonna fix ‘em.”

She pauses. Her? Fix the kid’s problems? No.

“And how is that?” she asks, though she’s not sure she wants to know the answer.

He digs around in his bag again, and after a few moments he pulls out a round, golden… What is that, a brooch? A compact? Whatever it is, it’s engraved with a crescent moon shape and inlaid with four small jewels in different colors around the edges, and fits in the palm of his hand.

“You’re Sailor Moon,” he declares. “And you’re gonna find the other Guardians, and the Princess, and you’re all gonna break the curse.”

Maybe he was right when he said she wasn’t ready for the answer. She isn’t sure whether she wants to simply scoff at the notion of her being some sort of… Curse-breaking Guardian? Or something? Or if she wants to laugh at the idea. It’s completely ridiculous, after all.

But, she isn’t heartless, doesn’t really want to hurt the kid’s feelings by dismissing him in this outright. So she doesn’t laugh. Instead, she tries to gain a little more insight into this… Theory, or whatever it would technically be called. Tries, once more, despite herself, to engage with the kid.

“And what’s that thing in your hand got to do with all of that?”

“It’s a transformation brooch. It’ll help you unlock your powers. I don’t know exactly what they are, but you’ll see.”

…

She’s almost to the town line when she spots that the kid left his book and the shining golden “transformation brooch” in her car. She would applaud his nerve, even lets herself grin at the sneaky move, because, hey, it is a little impressive. It’s bold, and she can appreciate that. Even if it is boldness being used against her.

And then there’s a wolf in the road, and she’s swerving to avoid it when things go black.

…

When she finds the kid at the playground by the shore, his “castle” as his teacher called it, she tries to reason with him. Tries to explain that – that there’s no way that she’s in some book of fairy tales. That she’s real.

She’s a little surprised when he shoves the brooch back at her, shouting a challenge.

“Prove it, then! Prove you aren’t Sailor Moon. Try and transform. Say the words. If nothing happens, fine! But try first!”

The metal is warm in her hand, the weight of the object almost familiar. She pushes that thought aside, raising the object above her head, before reciting the words the kid had shown her in his book. They’re pretty much random, the words that make the supposed phrase of power, but if shouting them out will prove there’s no such thing as magic and curses, simple as that, well, then, she’ll say them.

“Moon Prism Power, Make-Up!”

She’s not expecting the ribbons of warm light that envelop her the moment the last syllable has passed her lips, and yet, she experiences them anyway. The feeling doesn’t last long, but that something happens at all is enough to prove her wrong, isn’t it?

She’s… Sailor Moon. Whatever that actually means.

Looking down at the outfit she’s suddenly wearing doesn’t do much to inspire faith in herself, though. Short skirt, ribbons everywhere. Elbow length white gloves, every material on the outfit something light and, unless she’s mistaken, something that would be susceptible to damage in a fight – not that she knows for sure there will be fighting involved in this whole thing, but what else would a “Guardian” do, if not fight to protect someone or something? The boots feel sturdy enough, at least, and the heels would probably hurt someone if she kicked them.

Also, reaching up to her forehead she feels that she’s wearing a tiara.

Looking back at the kid only means seeing that he’s grinning like the cat that ate the canary, unfortunately.

(Unfortunate because it means he sees the new outfit too and knows he was right – or at the very least onto something – obviously.)

“Okay,” she starts, cautious of being too encouraging, as of yet. Just because something happened doesn’t mean she’s ready to just accept it yet, ready to uproot herself from her life in Boston for this.

Not when she doesn’t really understand, yet, what this even is.

“I still don’t know what it is you expect me to do, with all of this,” she gestures to the outfit, “Shiny new clothes don’t do that much in the way of bestowing knowledge and powers.”

“The Evil Queen wanted to hurt Snow White,” Henry opens his book, turning it to face her so that she sees one of the illustrations that grace its pages. “So she allied with an ancient and spiteful being to create a curse, a curse that would take away everyone’s memories and happy endings, except for hers. There was a prophecy, though, that Snow White’s daughter, the princess, and her four Guardians would be able to fight back, to break the curse. So the five of them were trained, until they were fourteen. But then the Queen was finally ready to cast the curse, so the Blue Fairy used the very last magic bean in order to send the Princess and the Guardians through to the Land Without Magic before the curse could affect them too. But it must not have worked right, because you and the other four didn’t know about that, right? If you already knew you would’ve believed me without transforming.”

He turns the page, and the last illustration – that is her, and the others who were with her that day in the woods. Even if she didn’t recognize herself, recognize them, she would remember those outfits that they were found in, the dresses and cloaks that she had quickly realized were not exactly normal, everyday wear for most people. So–

“You can come and go from Storybrooke. So you can go and find the other Guardians and the Princess, and- And until we figure out where they are, you can stay here and fight the monsters.”

What.

“You didn’t say anything about monsters before, care to explain that part?”

“It’s the being that the Evil Queen was working with. Metalia. It sends out these creatures, ‘cause it needs them to collect human life energy so that it can sustain itself in this world. Only the Guardians, like you, have the power to stop them. The people in this town are getting hurt, every night, and they don’t even know it because the day just sort of repeats all the time.”

The shriek that sounds at that exact moment sounds as close as though it might be directly in her ear, and that does make her cringe – causing Henry to look at her strangely.

“Did you hear that scream?” she asks – the only explanation she has for him.

“No,” he shakes his head. “But I’m not the super hero, here. Maybe you should follow the sound, someone might be in trouble.”

Hard to follow a sound that, even when it repeats, feels like it’s practically on top of her.

But she supposes she has to try, doesn’t she? Has to see if there’s--- If this is---

If the kid is right, this, whatever this whole Sailor Moon thing is, the fighting monsters and finding princesses and all of it – somehow, it’s connected to her past. Connected to the mystery she’s never fully been able to set aside – who was Emma Swan, before that day, where did I come from?

So, is she positive she’s going to stay?

No.

But she’s already standing in this town, in the most impractical outfit she’s ever worn, and, well, it can’t do much harm to try, can it? To give this whole “Guardian” thing a test run before coming to a decision?

Probably can’t hurt. Too much, anyway.

So, when the shriek sounds a third time, she lets her instincts guide her, turning on her heels in a quick spin before running in that direction. Her stride is more powerful in her transformed state, she realizes; she’s covering far more ground, quickly, than she would normally consider herself capable of.

That is, obviously, nothing compared to the moment her instincts cause her to leap onto a rooftop and then across the town at that level, taking a shortcut she wouldn’t have dreamed possible. When she finally alights on the ground again, she’s in front of a jewelry store – signs proclaiming massive and frankly unrealistic discounts in the windows, though that’s not nearly alarming as the sight through said windows, the number of unconscious women on the floor.

And the young girl cowering in the corner as a taller figure advances on her. On first glance, it appears to be a saleswoman, but a little bit closer look would be enough to see talons instead of fingernails. Looming over the kid, poised to strike.

And she knows she can’t let that happen.

So, yes. She is in fact still running on power-driven instinct when she nearly knocks the door off its hinges, letting out an angry cry of stop right there!

It gets the attention of the woman with the claw-hands, at least, draws her away from the kid.

She doesn’t have a plan, though. And that is probably not a good thing.

“So the Sailor Guardians have finally arrived to fight the Queens,” the woman says, looking her up and down, assessing. “It will be Morga’s pleasure to deliver you to them in pieces!” In an instant, one clawed hand shoots forward, attempting to rake across her stomach and gut her. She’s fortunate for the increased agility and speed that the costume came with, allowing her to dodge backwards with ease.

Still no plan, as she continues to dodge Morga’s assault, ducking and weaving her way through the shop, attempting not to step on anyone, but at least the focus is on her, not the kid. The kid that she really hopes will run soon, instead of staying in the corner petrified.

It’s probably about five minutes of that before the people on the floor rise, jerking like puppets. Their eyes don’t open, they don’t make a sound, they just advance, boxing her in, as Morga smiles, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

Somehow, Morga is controlling her victims. And every Sailor-instinct that Emma is trying to follow pulls hard against the idea of fighting her way through the innocents.

And then Morga is reaching a claw out to strike her again, and she lets out a scream of pure frustration as a – is that a rose? It is, it’s a rose – as a rose streaks through the air, piercing the creature’s hand, causing it to withdraw from the strike it was about to make, as the unconscious victims to drop again.

“Now would be a good time to do something, I’d think” a voice says from the shadows, a glance in that direction revealing a man in a tuxedo, top hat, cape, and mask standing there, holding on to a rose very much like the one that just came out of nowhere.

She nods at him, despite still not knowing what she’s going to do. The instincts that came with the transformation haven’t led her wrong yet. Takes a deep breath, even though she doesn’t hardly have time –

And reaches up to the tiara, which jumps into her hand. Pours her intent into it, causing it to glow golden, and then, pulls back her arm like she’s about to throw a Frisbee, and calls out a new set of words, unsure where she got them but knowing they’re right –

“Moon Tiara Boomerang!”

The tiara is off like a shot, connecting with the monster in a flash of light, and when the light fades, the tiara is back on her forehead and there’s nothing but a pile of dust where Morga had stood.

The man is gone from his place in the shadows, and the women on the floor are groaning and starting to come to. The girl comes up to her quickly, though, tugging on her skirt, looking up at her in awe. “Who are you?” she asks.

And Emma says the only thing she can.

“I’m Sailor Moon, the Guardian of Love and Justice.”