If one has any familiarity with the study of genetics, specifically, how physical traits are passed from one generation to the next, one knows that if both parents have the same haircolor, and at least two of the grandparents share that haircolor (before they went gray), then any children will most likely also possess said haircolor. Obvious, one would think. While it only gets more complicated from there, you can be fairly sure that if nowhere in your gene pool, or your spouse's gene pool, was there ever a redhead (or blonde, or brunette), than your offspring, it can be safely assumed, will not be a readhead (or blonde, or brunette). Unless, of course, the milkman got involved...but that's an entirely different pond of carp. **No fear...there is a point.** Magic complicates things royally. It throws genetic science out the proverbial window and whips out a box of crayons. Brightly colored crayons. Take, for instance, one young lady's family. Her grandparents, respectable native Japanese all, had black hair. One set of these grandparents raised a daughter with hair that shone purple in the light. Since the daughter was almost always in brightly lit spaces, it was generally assumed that her hair *was* purple. She grew up and married the black-haired son of that other set of grandparents. A few years later, the happy couple had a daughter; that young lady I mentioned. This is where magic stepped in. The daughter did not have respectable black hair, or even dark brown hair. She didn't even have hair that shone purple in the light. She had (and still has) blonde hair. Yes, the young lady had blonde hair. Fortunately, the happy father was too much in love with his wife and new daughter to even suspect the milkman. Two years passed and the couple had a son. Magic decided to rub off on him, too, and gifted him with light brown hair. Many years later, the young lady decided to complicate matters further and marry a young man of ebony (shining blue in the light) hair. This may not *seem* complicated, but what did the blue-eyed newlyweds do? Had a daughter. With candy pink hair and red eyes. Yes, my friends, magic and its crayons. A lot of things like that happen nowadays. For as you've probably realized, the young lady was none other than our eternal Neo-Queen Serenity. Who married the dashing King Endymion. Who had a daughter named Serena, called Rini. Or, to me, Small Lady. The magic? Probably the Silver Imperium Crystal. Nowadays? Well, Crystal Tokyo, thirtieth century. This story isn't about them, however. Oh, they're in it, of course. They're main characters. With the possible exception of Small Lady, they figure largely in these tales. They always do. As I said, magic complicates things royally. I mean that literally. This is a series of tales within tales. Bedtime tales, tales Small Lady never tires of hearing. Like everything else, an interwoven, complex, mostly beautiful, at times tragic, totally eternal tapestry. Small Lady is often my one and only diversion in the Time Warp. It gets pretty dull out here in the time-space continuum. I have a few hobbies; I watch events I was not present for, I research interesting things (such as the Tsukino gene pool), I sew, I tell stories.... Occasionally, I appear in the dreams of half-believed, self-styled "prophets" and give them vague half-truths of things to come for them to mull over (though, *that*, mind you, is a secret. Like I said, it's boring as *Hades* out here). This recording is another way to pass the millenia. And you thought all I do is monitor the timeline. I like to act mysterious and grave; it gives me one more thing to do. I find it quite amusing that the general opinion is that I have no sense of humor. Right. I, Trista, Sailor Pluto, Guardian of the Time Warp, have no sense of humor. If I *didn't* have a sense of humor, I'd go positively insane out here in infinite eternity! So it was a good thing that Small Lady tired of her mother's stories... "Pluto!" Small Lady's cheerful voice rang through infinity (the combination of her excitement and the distortion from time-space crinkles made it sound more like, "Puuluuuutoooooo," though). I looked up from my sewing. I was currently working on the gown-to-end-all- gowns. What did it look like? It was, well, indescribably beautiful and would take me anywhere from an hour to an eternity to finish. Other than that, you'll have to use your imagination. "Good evening, Small Lady," I said. It was merely a pleasantry, for it was no-time-of-day again in the portal. "What can I do for you?" "Densetsu-sama..." she said in a tone that her parents (and me, generally) would do anything for, "...Mama's trying to tell me about Queen Beryl again. And I'm just *so* tired of those stories..." Perhaps I had better explain quickly what she meant by "Densetsu- sama." You see, I have many different names, depending on who's addressing me and what they want. Sailor Pluto? Time to save the world again. Guardian of Time? What era are you going to and do I have to give you a Time Key for it? Trista? Sure, I'll hem that dress for you. Densetsu-sama? If it's Densetsu-sama, then they want a story. I put aside the breathtaking material and conjured up a fuzzy armchair, a few large, soft cushions, a blanket or two, and a cup of tea. I can only do this in the continuum, mind you, so don't go asking for a new dining room table. I settled in the armchair with the tea; Small Lady sat down upon the cushions, drawing a blanket around her. "Well," I began, looking down at her. She really is a cherub. "What do you want to hear about?" She grinned. "Something new." "New?" "Well, were there more Sailor Scouts? I mean, besides Mama's?" "Of course." "Really?" She was excited now. "Yes. Would you like to hear about some of them?" "Mm-hmmm! Tell me about them! Were they pretty?" "They were *all* pretty," I laughed, "And they saved the universe ...a few times...If I tell you these tales, Small Lady, you must remember one thing--" "What?" She asked anxiously. "There is always another path to take..." And with that, I began the story.