Medusa had noticed the flowers on her patrol, but she'd written them off as another weird Destiny City occurrence. They happened often enough that she'd stopped asking questions. It was healthier that way. Better for the blood pressure.

Besides, they were pretty.

She'd only made it another block before catching the scent again. It lingered just enough to turn her head, sweet without being overwhelming. There was something familiar about it that she couldn't quite place. It reminded her of being younger somehow. Of springs that had felt longer. Of days where she'd had significantly fewer monsters trying to ruin her day

"Okay, that's unfair."

The senshi frowned down at the cluster growing happily between two chunks of broken sidewalk.

It was probably magical.

Actually, it was definitely magical.

Normal flowers didn't spring up overnight and make people stop in the middle of the sidewalk like they'd collectively forgotten where they were going.

She watched one businessman wander over with the same glazed expression people usually reserved for bakery windows or fresh, hot out of the oven pizza.

He leaned down.

Smelled the flower.

Then just...stood there smiling.

Weird.

Medusa looked back at the flower.

Then back at the man.

"...Well."

Curiosity was going to kill her one day.

If it did, she hoped somebody at least made it sound cooler than fatally distracted by landscaping. Bacchus could make something up, right?

She crouched down and took a quick breath through her nose. As she did, she spotted another charm in the flowers and scooped it up without thought.

Immediately, she understood the appeal of the blooms.

Everything softened.

The afternoon sun wrapped around the city instead of beating down on it. The breeze glittered. Actually glittered. Tiny little flecks of gold caught the light before dissolving into nothing. Somewhere nearby, somebody laughed, and it sounded warmer somehow.

She blinked.

"Huh."

Another blink.

The mural across the street looked...brighter.

Not brighter.

Alive.

The painted vines curled ever so slightly around the brick. Birds she'd swear hadn't been there before darted between branches, disappearing whenever she tried to focus on them.

A smile spread across her face before she could stop it.

This was, admittedly, cool as ******** found herself slowing to admire things she'd walked past a hundred times before. Somebody's tiny apartment balcony overflowing with plants looked like something out of a fairy tale. The cracked fountain in the square shimmered with colors she'd never noticed.

Maybe Destiny City wasn't such a dumpster fire after all.

Maybe—

The thought stopped halfway through.

The flowers in the balcony planter had started watching her.

Medusa froze.

"...No."

She took another step.

Their little blossoms followed.

"Oh, absolutely not."

The warmth she'd been floating in curdled into something uneasy.

Suddenly there were too many colors.

Too many sounds.

The glittering lights she'd thought were beautiful a minute ago refused to go away. They lingered every time someone moved, trailing behind them until she couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't.

A kid ran past, laughing.

For just a second, there were six of him.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"This is why we can't have nice things."

When she opened them again, the world was still...wrong.

Not dangerous.

Just wrong enough to make her stomach twist.

She found the nearest bus stop bench and sat, elbows on her knees, waiting it out. There wasn't much else to do. She'd dealt with enough magical nonsense to know fighting a flower was probably going to make her look ridiculous.

Eventually, little by little, the city settled back into itself.

The light stopped shimmering.

The mural stayed put.

The balcony flowers went back to minding their own business.

Medusa exhaled through her nose before pushing herself to her feet.

She looked back toward the patch she'd smelled, flipping them an uncouth gesture for the trip they took her on.

Then she balled up her fists and continued on her way, giving every flower she passed the same amount of personal space she'd give someone trying to sell her something at the mall.