when it started, the universe was pure fire, burning on itself. it was just like some vision of hell, flames fluctuating uncontrollably to the catalyst. and that itself, was all of the fiery underworld – minus the brimstone, since the planets themselves hadn’t materialized. in the center was the galaxy cauldron, so much heat fusing with that inherent magic, but still there was terror. there was evil deep in all that creation, so integral that everything after was created as its balance. from there became the stars, stuck fully in ignition. all the remainders, bits of ash fused together as intricately as basket weaving, were the planets. the first life was the senshi, almost as old as time. and they slumbered while the evil smoldered down into the roots of all growing things and then deeper. when the senshi were finally enough to stand, passionless to offset the fever, the fight began.
the gates of time were created soon after that, deep pools of magic reaching far past their reserves. the creation tore into the shape of the gates of paradox. and sailorpluto would watch the creation scene, all of the truth of it from the door that had never experienced it. sometimes too, she’d watch all of the monks praying and sacrificing to bring this great tool to existence, and lament it. the smell of brimstone came soon after the door closed for the first time, and sailorpluto could taste it in the back of her throat whenever she was on-planet.
there was, of course, a difference between watching the timeline and intervening with it, but she only knew it and couldn’t explain. the gates themselves were a long series of rips, barely existing. she had to remember that, deep in her mind while she watched the timeline backwards and searching for patterns, sailorpluto didn’t quite exist.
when the universe began, it was hell from the underneath. sailorpluto knew all of this, the development of everything. as life developed and the old magics got deeper, evil left the elements of what it had created, and so they were corrupted from wickedness. each of the purest parts were stored in her solar system, since the beginning. all were separated in their senshi, as it should be. water became ocean and ice; fire became flame and light. storm separated to wind and lightning; then there was creation and destruction, and time. it was not a wise decision to cluster them together, she knew. but it was overridden by oldest magics and the taste of brimstone.
now, sailorpluto would sit in the house she bought for the outers, stacked like it was made of playing cards, and remember how it all unfolded. she was reminded of her almost-immortality with every not-quite breath. this was the home of death and endings, but she knew all of them. sailorpluto called herself setsuna there, sat next to a little girl and stroked her hair, knew the future. and sailorpluto would never forget, she didn’t entirely exist.