The trip itself was a welcome break, and truthfully, I had only realized a few hours into the trip how little time I had given myself to relax. 

Before then, my schedule had been to study, train, fight crime and spend downtime with my girlfriend. And even then, downtime had become less and less common. I didn’t blame Carla’s distance and her frustration with me. I realized that I really had put her through the wringer. Not to mention myself.

So, over the course of our class trip to Japan, I tried to relax. I tried to let myself enjoy things that weren’t superhero related. I pigged out on sushi, I bathed in a hot spring, and I watched a kabuki play… I just let myself experience the world and its tranquility.

Unfortunately, the last few days of the trip broke that tranquility.

When we arrived in Tokyo, I saw that it was every ounce the bright and shiny city of adventure that I expected it to be when we arrived. Even as I tried to stay clear of hero stuff, the big Japanese heroes like Kamen Rider, Ultraman, Cutey Honey and (of course) Sailor Moon still dominated almost every available surface. 

After a long tour of the local temples and castles and other cultural sites, our class was let loose on the city to see what we really had come here for.

The district of Akihabara had all of the nerdy goods I could have ever wanted (if I could afford them, of course) and I made a beeline for it. Its bright, neon-lit and charming sprawl almost immediately drew me in. Shop upon shop upon shop carried wall-to-wall merchandise ranging from plastic figurines, comic books, DVDs, CDs and souvenirs of all kinds. I made a point to buy up a Sailor Mercury figurine for my girlfriend back home at one of the stores.

As I held the small, cheerful form of the blue-haired sailor scout in the palm of my hand, I frowned at it, my thoughts filled with the reminder of Carla’s fear. The Sailor Scouts were supposed to fight monsters, but compared to Sailor Mercury and all the other Senshi I was the monster. I certainly felt like one.

I owed her so much of an apology, but I hoped that this was going to be a decent start. 

The trip was coming to a close and I was still uncertain how I was going to change myself. I had no idea what precisely was causing all the toxic garbage to flow out from me. Something inside of me just felt wrong and no matter how many bad guys I beat up, that wrongness refused to go away. It set me on edge and had driven me to try to remove every ounce of doubt and unpredictability in my life. I had tried to control myself and Carla too.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

As useful as it had been to take a break from beating up bad guys and lurking on rooftops, the same mess was waiting for me back in Gotham. All I could hope for was that some kind of answer would reveal itself.

In the meantime, I could at least enjoy being submerged in the cotton-candy anime wonderland of Akihabara a little longer.

It was while I was waiting with the rest of my Japanese class for the train back to our hotel that things turned upside down. 

Something rose to the surface.  It started with the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. A sense of unease. Forged from constant battles, my instincts screamed at me.

Then, my other senses confirmed. I heard the distant sounds of screaming floating through the air. And the faint scent of smoke. I turned around and, as others followed suit, I saw the crowd of people all facing in the same direction, towards the entrance and the surface, still and falling silent.

My stomach knotted. Something was wrong. I pushed through the crowds, strode out of the underground and into the sunlight above and there, in the distance, rising above the buildings, was a plume of thick black smoke. A mass of people were moving away from it.

Something was wrong.

Part of the problem of being a superhero is that you instinctively run towards danger rather than away from it. 

You leap over the train turnstyle and ignore the cries of onlookers.You fight against the flow of bodies, over the protests of your classmates and sensei. You sprint your way up to the streets and you pound your feet on the pavement desperately trying to get to the center of the chaos as you all but have to swim through the panicking crowds. The buildings blur as you rush headlong into the danger, not knowing if you can even do anything to help. You watch the plume of smoke grow closer and closer as the people around you grow fewer and fewer. You feel the pounding in your chest reminding you both of how alive you are and how close to death you might be.

All the other feelings in your head drain away as the world comes to a point for you.

You pick up a pair of souvenir wooden swords from a passing storefront, and scavenge a long coat, hat and scarf in the confusion. They’re not your costume, but they’ll suffice.

You rush into the center of the crosswalk, where the black smoke leads you. You are surrounded on all sides by abandoned cars and empty, broken storefronts. You’re armed with wooden sticks in the midst of an empty intersection. Cars have been abandoned and a number of them are overturned. A car burns a vivid orange plume from the gas tank with a ragged hole torn out of it, fueling the smoke and shimmering the air with its heat.

And you find yourself face-to-face with a giant fanged monster, easily a foot taller and three times your weight. A vile, twisted thing that only looks like a human in the loosest sense. You can see all of the rippling muscles that bulge grotesquely off its massive frame. Its teeth are bared at you and its claws are splayed as it approaches you.

And you face this alone… with nobody else to come to your rescue

When you find yourself in that place… and you charge in anyway, that’s what makes you a hero.

Briefly. 

Right up until the point the monster smashes you flat.

I did the best that I could. I fought with everything that I had, no matter how much the odds were stacked against me. I poured my rage, my doubt, my fear and all of the twisted feelings inside of me into killing this thing. I slammed the wooden swords into the creature’s hide and they essentially splintered on impact. When my weapons broke, I used my fists, only to find that my fists thudded uselessly against its bulk. I was able to evade the monster’s claws and teeth, but only for so long. I was tiring and it was not.

I put everything I was into stopping this thing, and it simply didn’t care.

My knuckles were aching, my hands were probably riddled with fractures and the close calls had opened up some shallow cuts on my arms as the swiping claws punished my mistakes. My heart was rattling around in my ribcage and catching my breath was getting more and more difficult. Sweat beaded off of me and I struggled to wipe it out of my eyes. I wasn’t even certain if my makeshift costume was still concealing my identity anymore. 

And after all that, the thing remained. Implacable and unstoppable.

I threw everything I had into it. And it

Did.

Not. 

Care.

 I was soon faced with the inescapable realization that I wasn’t going to win. 

The monster roared, a primal sound which shook my eardrums. Its saliva dripped from its jaws, its yellow eyes still seeing me as nothing more than a particularly irritating morsel of food which refused to get down its maw.

Every ounce of logic in my brain told me to run. My body, shaking and tired, told me to run because I wouldn’t have enough energy to escape if I didn’t. The answer was run or die, at this point.

I didn’t listen. I wanted to be a hero. I was tired of being outclassed. Of being told that I couldn’t do this. Even if it killed me, I wanted to die a hero. I had to prove I was better than this. I had to become better.

That was what I told myself, anyway. Then the monster opened up my chest with the rake of its claws, spraying hot, wet blood everywhere.

And as blood loss began to take hold and I fell to the ground helplessly, I discovered what I actually wanted was to live. As I struggled to put air in my lungs and fight back the encroachment of darkness on my vision, I just begged anyone who would listen to please let me live. Whatever noble ideas I had held onto fled in the face of me very quickly losing my life. 

The monster grinned, its crooked, curved teeth pulled into a sickening smile as its yellow eyes tore through my dimming vision. Sticky saliva fell from its maw as its black, forked tongue licked its nonexistent lips. It raised a rubbery black “hand” with curved claws above its head, clearly aiming a killing blow.

This was a youma. A demonic monster from the void. With strength enough to tear steel and shatter stone. It hungered for flesh and blood and couldn’t be reasoned with. And I was an idiot who had charged in with wooden sticks and optimism. I was going to die now, and I couldn’t deny that I deserved it for being so stupid.

My hopes died, and I imagined that I would soon be following them.

So it was more than a little shocking when I heard a voice shouting behind me.

I didn’t believe what happened next. How could I? It was too neat, it was too insane and it was just too cliched. Carla saved me at the last minute back in Gotham, sure… but, I would never have thought in a million years I would see that woman, of all people, standing above me as I lay on the brink of death.

I was certain that I was already dead. I told myself that this was a vision of near-death delirium that I was witnessing. A hallucination and nothing more. The monster was already devouring my flesh and this was just the deranged firings of neurons deprived of oxygen. I couldn’t be seeing this. It was impossible.

I didn’t deserve her salvation.

As she knelt down and put a hand on my chest, light poured from her fingertips. And where the light washed over me, the pain went away. The cold numbness turned to warmth. My breath finally let me catch it again. My vision wasn’t tunneling anymore.

And gradually, as my mind grew clearer, I came to realize that maybe this wasn’t a dream. And with that realization… I began to believe again.

The youma roared furiously at her, as not only had she denied the monster a meal, but because it recognized her for who she was. So did I, even if I still couldn’t quite believe it. The monster’s eyes were wide with an animalistic fear because it knew that this woman had sent countless like it back to the void.

Because, this woman was Sailor motherfucking Moon.

It didn’t even have the time to attack her before she reduced the creature to nothing. With just a gesture and a word, a flash of light exploded from her fingertips and washed over the youma. And as that light washed over the creature in a wave, it became nothing but ash and dust.

With the creature dispatched, she was finally able to turn back to me. She offered me a hand, and completely in shock, I accepted it. My legs still felt weak, but I found the strength to move them anyway.

She was smaller than I expected, but she clearly had the strength to pull me up and possibly lift me over her head from how firm her grip was.

I stared at her in complete bewilderment. It… it was really her. 

Her costume wasn’t some cheap knockoff worn for a comic convention. It looked like it was made with silk, and my hand in hers left a tingling sensation as my skin made contact with her white gloves. Like the power within them overflowed from her. The blue skirt, the red bows, the pink, heeled boots… I knew it all too well. it was really her. 

Other people might have called her outfit immature or ridiculous… but she wore that sailor suit like she was royalty.

I mean, she technically was royalty, being Queen of the Moon and all. 

The fabric of her clothes glowed faintly and had the resonant heat of power running through it. Her skirt wasn’t quite as short as the comics made it out to be, but the costume was still unmistakably hers. This was real, even if my brain was still having trouble processing it.

It was the woman inside the costume that had captured most of my attention. She was Japanese, as I knew all too well. The blonde hair and blue eyes of the show and the comics were just an artistic license more than anything else. She was born right here in Tokyo after all. Her eyes were brown, her hair was a snowy white of moonlight, tied against her head in the long twin pigtails that made her an icon.. She had aged, obviously, and looked to be in her thirties as the commonly accepted timeline of her history suggested. 

But age or not, there was a timeless energy she carried with her. In her eyes, as she looked at me, there was a maternal aura which flowed both through her and around her. Just seeing her concern made me want to leap into her arms and embrace her. The small fragments of safety I’d gotten from reading her stories radiated from her full-force.

“だいじょうぶですか?” she asked, her voice soft as she peered over me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I just gawked at my hero and savior. Japanese, or even English, felt outside of my grasp as my brain was on overload.

She sighed in relief. 

“よかった,” “Thank goodness.” she breathed, before a faint frown crossed her face. “どおうして？” she asked, squeezing my hand as she still held it in her own. “Why did you do that?” “あなたは死んだかもしれません.” “You could have died.”

I nodded. “私はヒーローをなりたい,” I insisted. “I want to become a hero.”

Her frown deepened. “死体はヒーローじゃない,” she said, her grip tightening. “Corpses aren’t heroes.” “気をつけてね？” “Please take care of yourself, okay?”

Something in her eyes sparkled. I truly realized in that moment why she was the leader of the Senshi. I always knew it, in theory, but experiencing it firsthand made it all too clear. She truly was as kind and caring as she was portrayed. She wasn’t just casually concerned or trying to help me out of obligation. The way her eyes looked into mine, I could tell that her heart was literally breaking for the pain that I had put myself through.

“ごめんなさい.” I mumbled, casting my eyes to the ground as I bowed deeply in apology. “I’m sorry.” It was a little awkward given my height compared to hers. “私はあなたのような本当のヒーローになりたかっただけです.” “I wanted to become a real hero, just like you.”

She smiled wide. “セーラー戦士になりたい？” “Do you want to become a Sailor Senshi?”

I balked at that. Every ounce of my body told me to answer no. The fact that I was this giant, awkward, ugly man who fought with swords and bats and clubs and fists made it clear to me that I had no business wanting to become a Sera Senshi. She was just making a joke and I should just wave her off.

But that wasn’t what I wanted. My whole life I had wanted to be a hero… but what I had really wanted was to be a hero like Sailor Moon. And here she was asking me point blank if I wanted to make that dream come true. How could I look into those eyes and reply to her visible sincerity and lie?

“はい.” The word was almost inaudible as I whispered it. “Yes…”

I felt my stomach twist as the word escaped my chest, a sense of failure and guilt. I expected surprise from her. Laughter. Disgust. I expected any other emotion except for that solemn nod she gave me.

She reached for her chest and removed her brooch from her bow. It was the original Moon Compact that she had first received when she had become Sailor Moon in the first place. She, surprisingly, didn’t detransform, but even more surprisingly took the brooch and pressed it into my hands.

I stared at it in shock. It felt warm. I could literally feel the energy coursing through it. “Holy shit…” I whispered before looking up at her and shaking my head. “だめだ. 私は男の人だ！” “You can’t! I’m a guy!” I was a man. And men couldn’t be Sailor Scouts.

She just kept smiling, not even bothering to acknowledge my objections. “変身したい？” she asked, “Do you want to transform?” “その言葉をしっていますか？” “You know the words, right?”

“もちろん！でも…” I said, a little defensively. “Of course! But I…”

I didn’t know how to respond. If it was anyone else, I would have called this a prank or a joke. There was no way that she was serious about this. She wasn’t just inducting me into the Senshi immediately upon meeting me, right? She didn’t know anything about me, save that I was a suicidal idiot and a wannabe hero.

I looked down at the brooch. I didn’t deserve this. I should just give it back to her and go back home.

But… I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try. I gripped the brooch for dear life and pressed it against myself. There was no way this was going to work…

“MOON PRISM POWER! MAKE UP!” I cried out desperately.

For a single fraction of a moment I was certain that it didn’t work. I had made a complete idiot of myself in front of Sailor Moon herself and I would never live it down. 

But before the pre-emptive shame could wash over me, everything went white. The brooch felt like it exploded in my hand and an overwhelming rush of sensations washed over me. Lights, sounds, sensations, all of them surging over my body in a chaotic blur. One moment, I was at the center of a storm of unfathomable power and… just as soon as it arrived, it was gone.

I blinked in confusion, looking around wildly.

“ちょっとおかしいですね？” she asked sympathetically. “It’s a little weird isn’t it?”

“What the fuck…” I hissed. I blinked. I realized with a start that my voice sounded different.

I looked down.

For a start, as I looked down, a cascade of wheat-blonde hair obscured my vision, tumbling down from my head. But that was the least of my concerns as I surveyed my change of appearance .

I was wearing a goddamn serafuku. Holy tap-dancing-shit, I was wearing a freaking sailor suit. I felt the fabric and while it felt as smooth as silk, it also felt warm to the touch. Everything exactly like the Sailor Moon who stood before me. The bow, on the front and the back, the skirt, the thigh-high boots… And my body had changed to match. My hair was longer and framing my vision, my body had taken on a distinctly feminine shape…and most importantly, the breasts…

I had breasts. Despite the fact that I was being watched, I still had to give them an experimental poke. I winced from the tenderness of their swollen flesh. 

“あたしは女の人だ” I breathed, my voice coming out higher and softer. “I’m a woman…”

Sailor Moon nodded. 

I shook my head, still reeling with the shock of what was happening. “この贈り物...どうして？” “This gift… why?”

She grinned. “Because,” she said, in English. “The world needs a Sailor Moon. I’m too old for it. You wanted to become a hero. And…” she pursed her lips for a moment. “Because it suits you better than your old costume.” She indicated the broken shards of wooden swords and the scraps of scarf that made up the remains of my old makeshift costume now laying at my feet and all around the battlefield.

Police sirens rang out through the air. Sailor Moon (the original, at any rate) looked skyward and nodded. “Good luck. If you need me, I’ll be there. I promise.” And with that, she leapt into the air and was gone, bouncing over the rooftops and away. “You can do this!” came the echo of her voice as she left view.

I quickly tried to will myself back to normal in a panic and managed to do so in another flash of energy. The brooch remained pinned to my shirt. I was surprised to find that my clothes had been made whole and the bloodstains of my fight had been washed away. I made a break for the nearest alley and ran off to let the police do their thing, stuffing the brooch into my pocket. 

The walk back to the station was a blur. I had been given superpowers. I had been given Sailor Moon’s superpowers. I had, at this moment, something in my pocket that would transform me into Sailor Moon. The female hero Sailor Moon. I should be embarrassed, I should be freaking out, I should be feeling anything save for this empty state of shock…

And… maybe something else… a warm feeling I couldn’t readily identify.

Eventually, after some wandering, I managed to find my Japanese class and, as if a monster attack and becoming a Sailor Scout had never really happened, I was right back into the thick of the ordinary… whatever that was. The other students asked me what I was thinking and I lied in telling them that I was looking to meet a real Japanese hero. I was justifiably called a complete idiot.

I didn’t tell anybody what had really happened. Even as I was texting Carla the next morning, I didn’t know how to tell her. I looked down at the brooch periodically to remind myself that it had all really happened. It was real. I had the literal power of Sailor Moon in the palm of my hand. All I could say to Carla was that I saw a real youma. While the power of a Sailor Scout lay in the palm of my hand, everything had to go back to normal.

After a monster attack and meeting a magical girl, the rest of the trip and the return back to Gotham felt like a breeze in comparison. My parents welcomed me woodenly back home. They had apparently been told about my leaving the class for hero tourism, but they seemed to be grateful that I was alive. Carla was with them to wrap her arms around me protectively.

Carla and I had time to talk between us as we were reunited. I told her that I was sorry about everything. That I realized that my obsession and stubbornness had hurt her and hurt me, too. I swore that things would be different now. I was changed. I wouldn’t push her to go out fighting crime with me and if she chose to. And even if she still wanted to be a superheroI wouldn’t push her to train beyond her limits.

Carla, in turn, told me that she had been practicing her glass control powers for her artwork rather than for crime fighting. She had gotten a better grip on her power from her own passion rather than my bullying. She still wanted to go on patrol with me… but it was going to be on her terms now. She would call the shots for her hero career from here on out and I could either accept her terms or take a hike.

I agreed and we tentatively made up. 

The rest of the summer passed fairly uneventfully after all that. The brooch stayed on a chain around my neck, unused and hidden under my shirt. I told myself that I was saving it for an emergency, but truthfully, I think I was still afraid of the thing. It felt as if it had unlocked something inside me and I was worried what the brooch would bring upon me if I used it again.

I finally had the potential to be a real, superpowered hero… but why me?

The time passed slowly, and while I threw myself down the rabbit hole of learning everything that I could about the real Sailor Scouts, I refused to transform myself again. There were too many unknowns and nothing made sense for me anymore.

The Sailor Scouts were, if the lore and rumor could be believed, not wholly heroes who used magic, but rather using a mixture of technology and magic from the ancient world. Artifacts so old that the lines of magic and technology became blurred. It was not unlike the Green Lantern rings. Power so old and strange that the distinction of sorcery and science became meaningless. There was no telling what old Lunar technomagic was capable of.

Of particular note, the research and lore also confirmed what I had always expected, the fact that men couldn’t be Sailor Scouts. Senshi were exclusively female. The old lunar society that the Sailor Scouts descended from were entirely a matriarchy. Their powers shouldn’t work for men.

And yet, as the glimmering artifact rested against me, there was definitive proof otherwise. This brooch was mine and it worked for me, regardless of what I had between my legs. And… there were some confusing thoughts that came with that revelation.

I had never told anyone, not even my own girlfriend, but the idea of being a girl wasn’t the worst thing I could imagine. Hell, if I had to be completely honest with myself, I would have to admit the fact that part of me wanted to be a girl. When I was alone, I had fantasized about becoming a beautiful girl and being able to become a hero like Sailor Moon and going out and fighting crime. I had dreams of it. I once borrowed my mom’s dress and heels to pretend when I was younger, even if it was a disappointment when I saw myself in the mirror. 

Truly, I always wanted to be Sailor Moon. 

But I’d always thought it was just a stupid daydream. It was weird, strange and maybe even a little perverted… it could never happen. I had to live in the real world.

I was a man. I had to be a man. It was expected and there was never any escape from that fact, outside of idle fantasy.

But now, that fantasy was a reality… and I had no idea how to process it. What did it mean? What was wrong with me? Did Sailor Moon know something about me that I didn't?

Those eyes, those kind, warm eyes had seemed to peer into my very soul. The memory of her presence caused me to shiver.

For the moment, I told myself that it didn’t matter. I was becoming a girl upon transforming because that was what was necessary for the brooch to work. That was the rational explanation. I was okay with that, and anything else beyond that wasn’t worth worrying about. I had to set my anxieties and questions aside for the moment.

The important part was that I was now a real hero with real powers, and had an obligation to keep Gotham safe.

But… I didn’t need to jump into it right away exactly.

I would keep the brooch in reserve as a last resort, of course. But, I was more than capable of doing my work without invoking ancient moon magic or whatever it was. I didn’t need to use it right away. It would just be my ace in the hole. 

I went to bed that night, feeling the brooch’s faint warmth against my chest. And dreamed.