It was an icon Suusanoo hadn't really pressed. Hadn't felt driven to press before. Susanoo had been more focused on school, more focused on working as a senshi. Focused on his job. Tonight nothing demanded attention, no thesis, no experience, not even the bustle of patrol, nothing. It was quiet, and Sailor Susanoo sat in his bedroom staring at the icon behind a closed door.

Dibhe had told him... That his homeworld was important. But maybe he should expect to see horrifying thinhgs. She spoke of skeletons on hers, dry brittle bones, signs of an instant, merciless oblivion.

Sailor Oumuamua spoke of her homeworld too. Not much. A place of visions, no bones, just ancient standing structures under an artificial seeming sky, scenting faintly of beers and time. Quite different from Dubhe's reports. Gagarin hadn't been to his homeworld but how could Susanoo expect him to go if Susanoo never saw huis own homeworld?

And senshi were... Supposed to visit at least once, right? Maybe? Yes? No? Maybe.

A long, skinny finger hovered over his [pphone icon. Hesitant. Silent. And he pressed it.

It felt odd to teleport. Susanoo had never left earth, never seen space. For a moment time was still and sense forgotten and then in another he stood in an entirely different place.

The sky was blue. Bluer than anything on Earth. Cleaner and easier. Simpler, perhaps, but clean. It scented faintly of something akin sakutra, or perhaps plum, with traces of maple and fresh clean green and a biting snap of chill, pleasant and soothing. The winds blew here and Susanoo found himself in a place with distance purpling the mountains surrounding him, their snowy caps white and proufd. Lush trees resembling maple, sakuta, and plum dotted the landscape along with peach and pear and Susanoo took a slow step on soft grass.

The wind blowed through brittle wooden items hanging from some trees beside ancient paper lanterns, a faint, haunting melody playing that Susanoo lacked words for, lacked context, lacked.. Meaning for.

No, the melody was soft and peaceful as Susanb0oo walked along, sandalled feet crunching gravel and grass underfoot. Very slowly a small hut came into view, the outside resembling barkj, swathed in mud and hairs of some soirt and woiod, but as Susanoo entered he found delicate white paper walls. It wasn't quite Japanese, but close, and he was cautious opening sliding doors. A single table housed documents he couldn't hope to read, the letters or characters strange and alien. Nearby, hanging, was a paper with an image on it - quite like Sumi-e. Scenery. Peace.

Susanoo emerged from the hut and spied the road, beginning to walk slowly. He was, Susanoo realized, in a village. It offered little to help him understand. Ancient toys lie in the grasses and abandoned blades nearby, simple. Functional. Nothing, he realized, was wasted. Chimes rang on an abandoned staff nearby and Susanoo looked in silence, feeling the everpresent breeze blow through his hair, his fuku. No visions consumed him, no sights he wasn't meant to otherwise see. It was simply peaceful. Quiet. Balanced in a way words couldn't wquite define and Susanoo felt surprisingly pleased and relaxed to see ity as he looked around, and finally, he exhaled, eyes closing.

Simple. Honest. And.... Susanoo admitted....

Perfect, as he opened his eyes, and slowly, he looked about.

Almost... Perfect.