Silver Millennium Soldier
-15- Idol Chatter
by
Mike Macdonald
(Age: 27)
copyright 10-13-2006
Age Rating: 18 to 127
The following week was the roughest Serena could remember. Mom and Dad both had their work schedules changed recently, so for a full two hours after school she had the house all to herself. Luna took advantage of the situation and Sailor Moon's training with the Tiara Disc was now a daily routine. Her confidence with the weapon was three times what she'd started with. This, plus jogging to and from school every day instead of taking the bus, plus increased participation in her P.E. classes, began to transform the Babbit girl into a novice athlete.
It was the martial artist that made life hell for her; this was the week she began her private crash-course in martial combat. The "training area" was the most secluded spot of Sunny Valley Park, next to one of the huge Japanese trees she always found amusing--the ones with the trunks arched as if in the middle of a dance. This area was normally reserved for volleyball practice, but by adding a strong cord and an extra metal rod or two, Lita had converted one of the net poles into a makeshift workout station. It looked harmless enough to Serena until she actually had to use it.
***********************************
Monday
Lita got straight to business when Serena and Amy showed up. For the first twenty minutes of every training session, they would warm up with over a dozen different exercises to stretch and condition the body. Serena was already used to stomach crunches and sit-ups, and those girly push-ups from the knees she found somewhat degrading; once Lita had her working her upper body strength with proper push-ups and pull-ups her perspective changed. Then she was doing leg-bend sit-ups and other strange exercises like planting one foot against a tree and leaning into it to flex the muscles. And, of course, the worst exercise of all, which was the leg-bend sit-up while hanging upside down from the pole--both girls completed one and a half apiece before falling off or giving up. To further complicate things, Lita insisted on directing the workout in fluent Japanese, which Amy had an easier time keeping up with than the blonde. And if either of them fell behind during the warm-up, Sensei slapped them upside the head. Her hands were like granite.
Finally, the warm-up session was over, and the actual lesson could begin. Now she would actually speak an occasional English sentence or two. The two girls went through another string of exercises that taught them more ways to deliver punches and kicks than either of them knew existed--straight punch, hook punch, uppercut, palm strike, backfist snap, rolling fists, side kick, roundhouse kick, dragon tail heel-kick--all the while listening to Sensei's shouting, and enduring her slaps to the head and to whatever part of the body they were using improperly. For the last ten minutes, they applied what they learned against a wooden board wrapped in rope on one end, which Lita had embedded in the ground before their arrival.
The lesson ended at five o'clock, to the two girls' relief. They left the park with bleeding knuckles, aching heads, exhausted will, and painful burning everywhere else.
"See ya tomorrah," Lita said with a grin. The way she said it sounded like things were about to get much worse.
***********************************
Tuesday
Ohh, yeah.
Lita greeted her students this day by tossing three-foot wooden sticks into their hands. After two minutes of Sensei slapping and chiding them into holding them correctly, they spent another two minutes twirling the sticks like shortswords in a figure of eight, first in one hand, then the other, in order to strengthen and condition the wrists. Then, once Serena and Amy's forearm muscles were screaming in pain, the warm-up routine they learned on Monday ran its course, shouting and slapping and all. They both managed two upside-down sit-ups this time.
"Who can tell me the best way to survive any threat?" Lita said, like a drill sergeant speaking to a line of recruits, once their opening exercises concluded.
Serena and Amy exchanged glances, then looked back at Sensei.
"Be stronger and more efficient than the threat?" Serena said with a shrug.
Lita shook her head. For the next ten minutes, the girls took turns practicing everything they learned from Monday on their instructor, neither of them connecting with a single attack; every punch and kick was painfully diverted with a flick of Sensei's wrists, or grabbed and used to toss the hapless students to the ground. When both students were worn out, forearms and shins throbbing with pain, Lita posed the question again.
"Don't be where the threat is," Amy said.
Lita nodded. "It's perfect logic. If someone throws a punch at ya, don't be there when it arrives. If a fight can't be won, run away. If evasion ain't an option, take advantage of your opponent's weaknesses. Lots o' people who been trained in martial arts are set in whatever form they learned, which can severely limit 'em if you tweak the fight in your favor. A swordsman needs room to swing. A wrestler hasta be real close to get hold o' you. A kickboxer needs his rear leg to keep on his toes and not his ass."
"So we're gonna learn to fight dirty today?" Serena said.
Lita giggled and said, "Pretty much, yeah."
"What exactly did you train in?" Amy said.
"Yeah," Serena said. "I mean, I heard Darien call you a ninja, but you're not really a ninja, are you?"
"No," Lita said with a smirk.
From there, the two girls learned methods of evasion and counter-attack the hard way. Lita introduced a new technique of dodging or diverting an attack by demonstrating on one or both of her pupils, and having them practice on each other after slapping the techniques into them.
************************************
Wednesday
The sticks became a regular part of the warm-up routine. Additionally, push-ups were now done with each hand firmly gripping the top of a wooden block one-foot in height, doubling the required distance from the ground and making balance nearly impossible.
Techniques for body conditioning, evasion, and counter-attack was stressed even more. Serena finally got the hang of executing a spinning kick, and Lita congratulated her by demonstrating the painful leg-sweep counter maneuver. They also learned several joint locks that could incapacitate an adversary.
Their hands didn't bleed so much anymore. The opening warm-ups took less time, too, now that the girls were getting used to them.
************************************
Thursday
Sensei upgraded to smacking her students across the front or back with a shinai when they screwed up. They learned much more quickly this day than the previous three.
************************************
Friday
Lita changed her students' warm-up session: Serena and Amy arrived at the practice site only to be surprised by an outright physical assault from their instructor. Neither ended up hurt in the end, of course, and Lita got a hell of a laugh out of it.
"From here on out," she said, "I'm gonna make sure both o' you stay on your toes. When somebody attacks you, your first impulse is to panic or freeze up like an idiot. The more you get used to bein' thrown into a self-defense situation, the better you'll get at keepin' control o' yourself. Bein' assaulted won't be as big a shock to you, and so your chances o' survivin' increase. Be one with your surroundings and keep a cool head at all times."
*************************************
Saturday
On the weekends, the students were free to goof off, so long as they practiced their techniques whenever they had a spare minute or two. Serena had looked forward to spending time with her friends on this particular day, too, but when she'd just begun to really enjoy herself, her brain began to have a difficult time processing information.
She remembered walking with Molly to Amy's house. Forming a little study group was Amy's idea, so they figured her fantastic house would be their base of operations, but Amy wasn't keen on the idea and insisted they work in a public place.
She remembered how much Mrs. Anderson was like a TV mom right down to offering them lemonade and cookies, and how Amy spoke to her only with short remarks and never once made eye contact.
She remembered picking the best noodle shop in town as their study site, which was used as studying for all but two minutes since Molly couldn't memorize half the vocabulary terms and started writing Wacky Mad Libs with the fill-in-the-blank portion of their history worksheet.
She remembered finally convincing Amy to ditch the study group idea and go see the sixth Sailor V flick, and how, on the second viewing, it still seemed like the movie was veering the franchise in a more family-oriented direction. It was still watchable, just not amazing.
She remembered bumping into a girl as the three of them left the theater, a cheerful blonde named Stacey she befriended in sixth grade. Her loud personality took the reigns of the group as they strolled down the street talking about people they used to know and where the best places to eat were.
This was the part that troubled Serena. She never knew a Stacey in sixth grade. She remembered talking with her about childhood memories as they walked down the boulevard, and at the time the memories were crisp and clear and overwhelmed her with nostalgia, but the moment she sat down they were gone. They'd conversed as if performing a scene for a play. She had, indeed, met the girl before, just not in sixth grade; she knew this the moment she heard the odd dialect she spoke with. European-but-not. The eyes were definitely familiar, only they were glancing at her from across a little café table and not staring right in her face. Her name wasn't Stacey, she knew that much for sure.
When the waiter came to their table Serena finally noticed her hair was resting down the front of one shoulder, and not in the pair of cinnamon buns with matching tails she'd set it in that morning. The strange girl ordered something in perfect French and then looked at her new companions expectantly.
Molly was taking a nap on the tabletop, so she had nothing to say at all.
"Would you like something to eat or drink?" the girl said. "We ought to lay low a bit, so you may as well have something. My treat. And hide your faces from the windows. You might want to wear a different hairstyle from now on, really. Something less…noticeable."
"All right," Serena said. "First and foremost, stop screwing with my head!"
Serena began to redo her buns when the girl stopped her with an annoying sound of disapproval one might use on a disobedient dog.
"Leave your hair, Love. You’re like a neon bloody sign with those buns."
"I'm serious," Serena said. "What if one of those fake memories sticks?"
"That’s not a common problem."
"Oh, but it does happen?"
The girl gracefully outstretched her hand to Serena with a glib smile. Held between her index and middle finger was a white card with a gold lace-pattern border on the top side which read, Wilhelmina De Marleaux, Traveling Composer and Pianist.
The waiter brought the girl's latte, which she accepted with a "Merci", then blew a kiss to the barista behind the counter. Her coy smile then turned back to the group, joined with a tiny laugh when she realized Serena wouldn't attempt to pronounce the name on the card.
"Mina to friends," she said, and then with a wink, "Venus to reincarnated valkyries. Nice to finally meet you. Proper-like, I mean. Without the running and panicking and all that."
Serena said nothing, still overcome with the anger of having the sanctity of her own mind violated twice by the girl, and now somewhat taken aback by the fact that her girlhood idol was sharing a table with her. Mina took a moment to instead address the timid girl next to Serena with the chocolate eyes and the blue streak of hair she kept brushing out of her face.
"I suppose a lot of things need explaining for you these days, eh?" Mina said with a laugh. "C'est un monde étrange, non?"
She took a moment to sip her coffee, and wiped a bit of foam off her nose before she went on. She did so in a somewhat theatrical way, and Serena wondered if she was stalling just to annoy her.
"The man who's been pulling the otherworldly strings around here is Colonel Jedite, a top lieutenant in the legion of Queen Beryl, who, incidentally, is the current ruling body of the Black Moon Kingdom. What's left of it, rather. You met the good Colonel once before. Angry Aryan gent with a fair complexion. Yells a lot when he's upset. Anyway, one of his agents has been following you since the noodle house. I made her forget what she was doing for the last day, so she’s just doddering about in circles now. If I hadn’t been watching over you she would’ve killed the three of you before you got home. Really, you ought to be more careful. All Jedite needs is a solid physical description of either of you and he'll have you hunted like dogs. Vicious sort, he is. Doesn't like people sticking their noses in his business, if you know what I mean."
"Well, what's his problem? Why's he pickin' on my town?"
"You know that by now, I'm sure. He's killing people for their life force. Boxes it all up and sends it back home in care packages for Her Majesty, the Queen. They're using it as fuel, but none of his agents seem to understand what for. Doesn't matter, though. He's killing people all the same, and at a startling rate. If we don't close up his shop, half the city will be in the morgue."
Mina lost herself in the window behind Serena and Amy as she sipped her coffee. Serena was tempted to kick Molly's foot to wake her up so she could appreciate being in Sailor V's company. Why had she suddenly gone to sleep? Probably Venus's doing.
The patronizing black cat came to mind. That's right. Even her best friend wasn't supposed to know.
"She’s gone, looks like," Mina said, still peeking out the window. "I’ll scout around for more of them after I've finished. You may want to stay hidden for a while. The arcade's just up the street. They might not expect to find you there. Have a bit o' fun then go straight home."
"Last time you said that," Serena said, "I was suddenly at home like I'd just had the worst dream ever."
"You understand the situation now, I gather. No need for me to baby sit you anymore. Especially if you've already got a secret admirer doing the job for me. Lucky girl. Didn't get his number, by chance?"
"Oh, don't even start with that," Serena said with a moan. "Stupid stray couldn't keep her mouth shut, huh?"
"He's gallantly come to your rescue how many times? The least you could do is give him yours. Or offer the poor boy a kiss for his trouble. He's clearly stuck on you."
"I'll keep it in mind next time I see him."
"You'd better. If I ever meet him I'll keep him for myself."
Serena kicked Molly again. "What’s up with Mol?"
"Exhausted, looks like," Mina said with a wink. "She must’ve had a busy day, swinging racquets about like she does. Ought to get her home soon."
Serena and Amy hefted Molly up out of her chair. Not an easy feat by far; the dainty girl was much heavier than she looked.
"Guess we'll be going, then," Serena said.
"Well, I hope your day goes without incident from here. It’s been a gas meeting you three." Mina then flashed her smile at Amy. "Especially you, Love. Ought to learn when to clam up and let the rest of us get a word in."
Amy responded with a tiny smile, diverting her eyes to her unconscious friend.
They'd almost dragged Molly out the café doors when Serena stopped, turning back to watch Sailor Venus enjoy her latte, once again lost in the glint of the window behind where she'd been sitting. Her smile was gone, and so was the cheerful blue light seen in her eyes a moment ago. She didn't acknowledge Serena, although she surely knew she was still there.
Serena felt she ought to say something, but had no idea what else to say. As a girl she'd admired Sailor Venus so much, but only as proof of the fine line between fantasy and reality. It was an adolescent reason for praising someone. Besides that, she wasn't some celebrity she'd bumped into by chance, or a divine figure of justice and virtue like she'd been taught by all the articles and movies and books. Mina was a human being just like her. And an ally who'd already saved her life twice.
The thought made her heart jump. She got to be rescued by Sailor Venus twice. It was like being invited backstage by the hottest pop band of the year. Nobody would ever believe her in a million years, either, or she'd probably have bragged about it to everybody. "Sailor V is my guardian angel!"
She could always thank her later. Acting like a fangirl would probably just annoy her, anyway.
*************************************
That evening, as Serena walked home, she was jumped by a tall figure in a ninja costume who'd been hiding in the shadows of a neighbor's front yard. She instantly flew into fight-or-flight mode and backpedaled away at sixty miles per hour as her attacker assaulted her with a barrage of lightning kicks, knocked her down, and pinned her face-down on the sidewalk with her arms wrenched behind her back. She suddenly felt like a baby calf in a rodeo as her hands were swiftly bound together, and with little else to do in response she began spouting a rapid string of obscenities. The ninja then presented a shinai from its back and, winding back like a batter at the plate, gave Serena such a nasty swat to the rump that several of her neighbors came outside thinking they'd just heard a gunshot.
The ninja removed the hood with a loud, hyena-like cackle, revealing the grinning face of Lita Kaehler.
"Told ya to stay alert, 'Punzel," she laughed, and scampered off.
With a miserable groan, and her wrists still bound together, Serena limped the rest of the way home.
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