Priss stirred in her sleep and opened one eye in an attempt to figure out what awoke her. They have just won a battle against an extremely large boomer, trying out their new hardsuits for the very first time. Sylia held a party at her place to celebrate their joyous victory. Evidently, as Priss noted looking around at the dream-smitten faces of her friends, all of them had gotten considerably drunk and had fallen asleep.

Just as she was about to dismiss whatever it was that awoke her as just a part of her dream, something light caught her eye and quickly disappeared behind the doorframe. Curious and, to some degree, disturbed by the mysterious intruder of her sleep, she got up and followed the disappearing figure. The dim light emitted by the swimming pool barely illuminated the hall and was not nearly enough to determine the identity of the retreating person.

Priss followed the figure to a white door at the end of the passageway and hesitated before opening it. After all, she had no reason at all to be suspicious, and since it was not her house, she had no right to barge in on whoever it was. Just to be on the safe side, Priss knocked quietly before turning the light metal handle and opening the door.

The room was dimly illuminated by two decorous lamps on top of nightstands on either side of a king-sized bed. However, even this light was preferable to the surreal suspicion-bearing twilight reigning in the hall. Standing near the bed in a bathrobe thrown loosely upon her obviously otherwise naked body was Sylia. Startled by her uninvited guest, she looked up, ready to sound off an alarm. Then while she realized who it was, the worry on her face slowly gave place to a semi-warm smile.

“Hello, Priss. You may come in, if you wish.”

Priss obeyed, quietly closing the door behind her. The soft light of the lamps served to calm her nerves, making her feel safe and at home, even despite her conscious knowledge that technically neither was true. Partially in order to get rid of this feeling of disconcerting serenity, she answered harshly, “What’s the matter, Sylia? Do you spy on us even in our sleep?”

Sylia pretended not to notice the open insult in Priss’s words. “No, not at all. It’s just that… well, I just could not sleep. I feel something – a premonition, maybe – like something is going to happen. I just don’t know what. I’m sorry if I accidentally woke you up. You may go back to sleep.”

“It’s not like I can fall asleep now anyway,” Priss replied although not nearly as harshly as before.

“Well then, you may stay here. I can’t sleep either. Sit down, please,” invited Sylia, pointing to the silvery sky blue of the bed sheets. Priss looked dubiously at her hostess, but did take a seat as instructed. Sylia smiled quietly and continued, “How about some music?”

Priss snorted in derision. “I don’t think my music is quite your style.”

Sylia smiled mysteriously. “Oh, you’d be surprised.” She moved towards the darkest corner of the room, where Priss only now noticed a silver-colored disc player. Rummaging through her quite eclectic music collection, Sylia finally found what she was looking for, and a minute later hard passionate opening notes filled the bedroom.

Priss could not help but look a bit startled. That was her own first album. Back when it first came out, she was an unknown musician. No club in Tokyo would even let her play for an hour. The album received no publicity whatsoever. She was sure no copies of it would be left by now. And yet here it was, her opening song rang out in all its soulful passion in the quiet night air. Priss grinned silently, remembering how naïve, how full of love and hope she was back then, how every romantic word of the lyrics deeply touched her young heart. The past feelings have returned, engulfing her in their melancholic nostalgia. She could not feel derision towards them, only indescribable sadness at discovering herself so irreversibly changed.

Sylia carefully watched the changing expressions on Priss’s face. She was expecting surprise. After all, it took her enormous pains to find this first album, the very roots of the rock star’s future glory. Yet her initial smile soon faded as Priss’s surprise gave place to sadness.

“What is the matter, Priss? I thought you would like it.”

“I do. It just hurts to remember how I was then and to know who I am now,” Priss answered quietly. “Back then, I would have been just like Linna. The only thing binding me to the Knight Sabers would have been a wish to play a superhero and to save the world. I was so naïve and foolish. And yet... I was in love… Do you know that I vowed back then never to listen to this song without dancing with the one I loved?”

Sylia nodded, then seemed to have thought of something. “Well, in that case, how about a dance? I am probably a rather poor substitute for the one you loved, but a vow is a vow.”

Priss looked up startled, but before she had a chance to react, Sylia pulled her from the bed and wrapped her in an embrace. The music carried them around the stuffy bedroom. There was not nearly enough space for real dancing, but Priss was too confused to notice, anyway. Why would Sylia do something like this? Is this a trick, some sort of a psychological experiment concocted by the daughter of Professor Stingray to see if she’d crack under pressure? But the swinging of their embracing bodies and the dim light of the lamps proved strangely calming and nearly hypnotizing, dispelling all traces of suspicion from Priss’s head until all that was left was serenity and an overwhelming sense of weightlessness. She could not think of herself as a part of the world now. The music overwhelmed all of her senses until all of the boomers, the ugliness, the technology, the Genom, and the AD Police disappeared. All that she could care about now was Sylia, this room, and the passionate melody of her youth.

As if in a dream, she felt something warm on her mouth. Sylia’s lips. Their touch was all encompassing, electric, her body nearly instantly yielding to the rising passion. This was something she has not felt in a very long time. Ever since… Well, it did not matter right now.

In what seemed like a single swerve of melody they ended up in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. Sylia broke the embrace for a second, turning on the water, the stream’s silvery color reflecting in the silver of her hair. Then her lips were back, sending fiery kisses down Priss’s neck and to her half-naked breasts. The rock-singer closed her eyes, trusting herself completely to the other woman even in spite of herself. She did not have the mental strength to be surprised right now. Of course, she has seen Sylia flirting with other women over these past several months, but she never thought she was actually serious. Guess, she was, Priss thought before once again submerging her consciousness into the feeling Sylia’s lips left down her neck and her collarbone.

The silvery haired woman’s mouth descended towards the singer’s breasts, and her hands carefully worked to undo the other’s top. The black leather finally yielded, falling to the floor and revealing the roundness of Priss’s breasts. Her nipples were as hard as pebbles, giving away her arousal, even if she herself would not have thought she was aroused. Sylia’s mouth enveloped one of them, her tongue sliding over and around it, while her hands struggled to undo Priss’s pants. Nearly unconsciously and surprised at herself, the singer groaned quietly and wailed piteously as the other woman’s mouth left her breast. Letting her arousal take over her body, she watched as if in some sort of a sexual trance while Sylia stripped her light blue robe off of herself. Only when the other woman was finished and, in another embrace, has guided them both into the bathtub, did Priss realize that she herself was now naked.

The warmth of the running water and the heat of Sylia’s touches, of their bodies rubbing one another, set her soul on fire. The elegant woman’s kiss felt mind numbing, and when she guided the strong stream of water onto the singer’s clitoris and simultaneously inserted two fingers of her free hand into her vagina, it was all Priss could do not to cry out in her passion. Sylia excruciatingly slowly moved the stream over and around the pulsating, budding organ and her lips once again descended on the other’s hard nipple, but this time of the other breast. The feeling was simply unbearable and Priss moved, thereby sliding Sylia’s fingers out of her body and then, as the water passed over her clitoris in the process, back in. The motion continued in an inescapable cycle of pleasure, which guided the singer to resist only to engulf her with a new, stronger wave a mere moment later. Finally, with the very last wave, it brought her to a climax, and an orgasm shook her entire body, as she clung to Sylia to retain her balance, seeking in her a guide back into the world.

As soon as the universe around her stopped spinning, Priss felt the other woman move out of her embrace. Sylia exited the bathtub, picked up her bathrobe, and still not saying a single word, left for her bedroom.

Priss sat down in the bathtub, trying to regain her mental footing. Everything in her head swam in a chaos of sounds, colors, and emotions. What just happened here? And why did Sylia leave? Finally partially regaining her composure, Priss got up and, still naked, entered the bedroom.

Sylia was sitting on her bed in her bathrobe, staring blankly into the space in front of her. Looking at her now, at how her wet silvery hair clung in thick strands to her neck, Priss could not help but wonder at how beautiful the leader of Knight Sabers was, and a sudden realization hit her, making her voice something she had not until now even suspected was true.

“Sylia,” she said quietly, as if testing how the other’s name rolled off her tongue. “Sylia,” she repeated a bit louder, more confidently. “I want you to let me love you.”

Sylia looked up, startled. “And then what?” she asked quietly. “The boomers, Mason, Galatea… We have yet to fight them all. What will happen if you are killed?” She smiled melancholically when Priss did not answer. “That’s what I thought. You were hurting tonight. That was the only reason why I did what I did. Be confident it will not happen again.” She turned away resolutely, allowing the singer to absorb this information.

Priss silently wrapped a nearby towel around her body and went to the door, intending to leave, as it was obvious that the other woman did not wish her company anymore. Already in the doorway, she stopped and turned around suddenly.

“What if we win and both survive?” she asked quietly. “Will you love me then? Will you let me love you?”

Sylia looked startled, as if she did not dare to give herself false hopes of an aftermath of victory. The her confusion melted into a smile and she whispered, “Maybe.”

Exiting, Priss wondered silently at her thought that she would not have exchanged that single word for the world.