Penelope didn't have a ton of memories of her mother. She was much too young when her mother passed. Her clearest memories were about her mother.

She remembered the funeral, a hundred people she vaguely knew giving her condolences she was too young to understand for a woman she had barely known. What eight-year old really knows who their mother is? You love her of course, and you know she gives you food and tucks you in at night. But how she felt about society, how she treated her friends, how long she had worked at some company with a long and nondescript name? She heard all that for the first time as the speeches were given in the cold air of the funeral home. A life lost too soon, they announced, by a drunk driver. She didn't understand either word, but they turned her stomach all the same.

She remembered her father returning to a bottle that he'd sworn off after he returned from his final tour of duty. Her mind had struggled to comprehend the scene in front of her as she peered through the gaps between the banisters at a sobbing wreck. You think, when you're young, that your father is invincible. So strong and so wise, and incapable of fault. Even he was a bubbling wreck before the cruelty of fickle fate. She remembered running off to bed when he came upstairs (she wasn't supposed to be awake). She pretended to be asleep as he kissed her on the forehead. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he whispered, in shaky breaths: "Now don't you leave me too, Penny. I don't think I could take it."

She remembered her father telling her never to go into the basement. That was where her mother's office was, and he said it was better to leave it undisturbed. He couldn't bear to clear the room, couldn't bear to disturb any of it. It was preserved just as it was before her mom had left to buy ice cream from the corner store. The family photo of the three of them was perched right beside the computer monitor. The row of books was slightly askew - as it had been for years. And Penelope knew all this because when she was 14, she had broken in. She had learned off the Internet how to pick a lock with a hairpin, and tiptoed inside, doing her best not to sneeze at the layer of dust that had accumulated - her father cleaned it every month, but that wasn't nearly enough.

That's when she found the necklace. It had been hanging off the handle of the drawer, a simple little amulet on a silver chain. But the moment she saw it, it called to her like an old friend. She knew touching it would break a second taboo on top of breaking in, but she couldn't help it. She was at that age when curiosity dictated every action. The moment she did, she felt a heat on her skin, and her hands began to glow. She yelped in surprise as a bright pink streak raced its way up her fingers and across her arm, filling the air with tiny sparkles. And she found, to her horror, that she couldn't drop the necklace. It clung to her fingers as she flicked her hand, the chain jangling against itself.

"I knew you wouldn't leave well enough alone," came a voice behind her. Penelope's heart dropped, and she spun around to see her father in the doorway, staring at her with a resolute expression.

"I-um..." Penelope stammered, still trying to yank the necklace off her fingers. She grabbed it with her other hand, and it came free - but stuck to that hand instead. The flagrant disobedience of the laws of physics and magical sparkles could wait, the priority was the scolding that she was sure was coming.

"Didn't I tell you never to come into this room?" her father said.

"Yes, but... I'm sorry, Daddy," Penelope said, letting her hands drop to her side. The amulet dropped too, bouncing on its chain before swinging gently at the bottom.

"Just like your mother," her father said, shaking his head. "But I suppose I knew this day would come."

Her father walked over to the desk and sat heavily into the chair, something squeaking in protest as he did. He rapped the spacebar on the keyboard twice, and the computer sprung to life.

"The password's your name, and then the date of our anniversary," he told her.

"W-wait, you're not mad?" Penelope asked, confused, the sparkles still drifting around her.

"No, I'm not. I just wanted to wait as long as possible before you had to grow up," he said. "I think you know what's going on with the sparkles."

"No, I... I don't," Penelope said.

"Of course you do," her father interjected. "There's a reason I downloaded Sailor Moon onto your computer."

"I-I'm a magical girl?" Penelope said, her voice coming out somewhere between excited squeal and stunned surprise.

"As was your mother," he said, and he was opening a file on the computer. The image was of a woman - her mother - surrounded by little pink sparkles, giving a wink to the camera.

"Th-that's your phone's wallpaper, isn't it? That's just... cosplay, or um, photo editing?" Penelope said, still reeling.

"That's what she told me," he said, sighing. "I think your mother always wanted me to figure it out. But no, I only found out after she died, when I finally got this computer open."

"She... she hid it from you?" Penelope asked. It was all a lot to take in at once, and there were pressing questions to ask, but all she wanted to do was hug her father.

"Yes. I think she wanted to keep me - us - safe," he said. "I don't think she wanted you to take up this mantle. It's dangerous, really."

"B-but then why didn't you stop me from taking the amulet?" Penelope asked. "I mean, if mom didn't want me to do it..."

"Penny... do you know how your mom died?" her father asked, turning in his chair to face her. "They told you it was a drunk driver, didn't they?"

"I... yes?" Penelope asked, her stomach dropping again as the next of so very many revelations came crawling out of the woodwork.

"Your mother was an investigative journalist. She was trying to expose corruption in the government," her father said, his voice a strange mix of wistful and proud. "She had stopped being a magical girl by the time we met, she was too old for it - but she was always the same person. Principled, courageous, always wanting to save the world..."

"And if she had only told me," he said, his voice cracking a little. "About any of it, then I could've helped."

He shook his head, and looked seriously at Penelope.

"I have no illusions about stopping you from doing this, if that's what you want. You're your mother's daughter, and you're a strong-willed girl. I want you to decide for yourself. If you want to do this, to fight whatever evil she fought, then that's okay. You'll be 16, 17, by the time you're ready... same age as I was when I signed up," he said. And she saw in his eyes, now, that same intensity as when she was a little girl and her father was her safety and security. "I want you to think about it, seriously. You don't have to do this unless you really want to."

"But I'll be damned if I let you do it without my help. Your mom's not the only one who fought evil."

Drea's father's eyes were weary as he took a seat and ran his fingers through his thick beard. He leaned forward, his bright red hair catching in a beam of pale yellow sunlight. Specks of dust danced around his face as his hard eyes went from frustrated to exhausted. Drea took in a deep breath, feeling the anger inside her chest flickering from a forest fire into a small, dying ember.

"You are right," Her father said in a rough, deep voice. Drea took a step back and tried to remember exactly what she had just yelled at him loud enough to tussle his hair and bring tears to his eyes. Her chest suddenly tightened and she felt a deep stinging sensation in her gut: regret and guilt.

"I'm sorry Dad."

"No," he said forcefully. "Drea, you are right. You are a terrible student because I am a terrible teacher." Drea felt an immense empathy for this broken man who never asked for this. He didn't choose to fall in love with someone as powerful as her mother and he never planned to lose her so early in her life. She was being unfair.

"It's okay," she said taking a seat as all the anger had sizzled out of her. "I know this isn't easy for you either."

Drea's father turned his head to the side thoughtfully, a small smile forming on the corners of his mouth. He got to his feet and walked towards a sword that hung on the wall. It was beautiful, with a pale white, sharp blade and forest-green embellishments across the sides. Drea knew her father had used it to kill many people, yet that did little to diminish its beauty.

"Long ago," He said, "I was a lost young soldier roaming the countryside with nothing but anger and hatred in my heart. I did a lot of evil in that time. A lot of good too... but the deaths... the choices I made..." he trailed off and Drea sat perfectly still, afraid any disturbance would take her father out of his trance and he'd retreat from his memories like he usually did.

"Your mother," He continued with a glimmer in his eye, "Saw something in me. She was wise, kind, but had this flame inside her soul." he nodded to Drea with affection, "The very same flame she gave to you. I know that." He sighed deeply. "Wars mess with your mind. Guilt erodes your soul. The past haunts you. You think the pain is left on the battlefield, you think your actions only matter as long as the war rages on but..." his eyes wandered lazily across the room and towards the open window. A summer breeze swept through his hair and beard and he took in a long deep breath. "But the actions follow you, like shadows. Whispering truths about you in your ear. Always reminding you that no matter how much good you do, you will never make up for the bad."

"I'm sorry Dad," Drea said, not sure what else there was to say. "I know you had a really hard life."

"I am a bull," Her father laughed, "I approach everything horns first. I'm a talented fighter and sometimes feel like I can slow down time, but I'm not delicate." He nodded to Drea. "Your powers are precious, like crystals or stone. They need nurturing and patience. Your mother would meditate for hours a day and study just as much. She was more intelligent than I can ever hope to be. I'm afraid I cannot teach you."

Drea's heart sunk and tears flooded her eyes.

"No," she sputtered, "Dad, please. I didn't mean what I said. I take it all back. I'll listen more I'll-" she could feel the desperation hugging her tightly, suffocating her. Her father pulled her into a hug and the pain eased.

"My dear," he said, "I don't mean I'm giving up on you. What I mean is I see now that I don't have the knowledge or the tools to teach you properly. But I know where we can go where people can." Drea's cried into her father's shoulder but nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Are we going to go there?"

"Yes," her father said with the comfort only a father can offer his child. "We will go together and stay together. You are my heart, my family, my life Drea. Where you go, I go. You are all that matters."

"How long will it take to get there?" Drea asked softly. Her father held her at an arms length, his eyes creasing with a smile.

"About six months," he said and Drea's pale blue eyes widened, "What do you say? Are you up for an adventure?"

Attempting another transformation leads to a fail. She falls to her knees, exhausted from exhorting so much energy. Her dad watches from the distance rambling about how he never got breaks in the war and that he would be dead if he fell like that. She sort of just ignores him as she grabs her wand and attempts again. Holding her wand to the sky, she screams out.

Ari: "Transformation: Frost dance!"

Ice begins to swirl around her as she twirls, but before it gets too high, she gets dizzy and falls over. Now your dad is talking about your mom's balance and style or something. You've tuned him out by now, but what can't be tuned out is a giant ground shaking monster making their way to your cabin. You back away scared, but before anything can happen, your sister comes out and sends the monster up to space easily.

Fumi: "Still practicing, sis?"

Ari: "Yeah, but I just can't hold my balance long enough to get mom's frost dance to work...."

Fumi: "Don't get so hung up on it. You may have her wand, but you can have your own style. Like me and my gravitational dance."

Ari looks at the wand.

Ari: "My own style, huh?"

Ari grips it tight, she starts dancing elegantly, and for just a second, Ari's hair turns to water. She notices and gets so excited that she messes up and it stops.

Ari: "OH MY GOSH, DID YOU SEE ME FUMI!!!!!"

Fumi: "I did. I'm glad you're finding your own style. What're you gonna call it?"

Ari: "Mother's remembrance."

Fumi: "I think she'd like that."

The dad is asleep at this point.....

Dreams and Nightmares, the two sides of the human consciousness. Dreams were possibilities, things that gave the mind a rest and to help it focus; to keep someone continuing, giving them goals, to become something more then what they were. My mom made a pact with Aseil, something that created dreams and gave them to right rouge dream beings. She became the legendary Dream Defender Leonine...

My dad wasn't like that. He was a Knightmare User; Aseil's sister created them, meant to teach people fear, to warn them of the future... but in reality, she just existed. They were flaws someone had; His Knightmare was a creepy moth man, with four arms and gleaming red eyes it stood as tall as a person... he was never most social and had bad luck...

They met in the hospital when they were kids, and they met their partners on the same night during a Dreamtide they became fast friends and eventually they were married.

But mom didn't... fully recover...

----

My name is Makoto Kusenagi. My hair is short and dyed blonde, my face looks like it's always scowling, my eyebrows are too big, and i wear a leather jacket over mu uniform. I carry around a bat and come from the bad part of town. No one really wants to know me...

But eversince my mom died... I met my pal Roosevelt. He looks like a teddie bear usually, and i kept him in my backpack just in case. And if any dumbass wants to make fun of me for it, then he turns into a bear wearing a crown and scepter and that usually makes them not want to question it.

With him, i can become Dream Defender Ursinine. My dress is bright pink princess outfit, my hair is long and blonde, and my bat becomes a scepter worthy of a queen.

you might think I would hate it but...

no.

it makes me smile, no one judges me anymore; people don't look at me like I'm some punk...

Dad still finds it funny though, but to be honest he wouldn't get it. Knightmares can't be seen by other people not connected to the dream worlds. Dream Defenders are seen... well, not really; We're what we want to be, deep down in our hearts. I liked Creeper, don't get me wrong he is an extension of my dad, in a way, but not everyone could see him and those that did were Dream-possed or other knightmare users... or us.

So it was today, in my bright and fluffy magical girl dress that he tried to help me with being a dream defender. Neo Yankai had a few, but... well, our family is one that works together.

Creeper is a good spy; my dad tells me he sees our target.

"You ready, Makoto?"

I smiled. "your damn right..."

"Language."

"C'mon dad, just because I look like this doesn't mean i can't be cool."

Creeper fluttered top of a lamppost and snickered. Roosevelt shook his head. "It's okay Ursinine, he just wants the best for ya."

"yeah yeah..."

... I missed mom, but... I still have my dad. And so long as i have that I can make this work.

"Sweet Pea. What happened?"
"Daddy. Daddy! I did just like you said. I flew down and surprised the invaders before they knew what was happening. I am so good. Just like you said."
Mr. Jon Albright stood in his backyard with his four year old winged daughter. She was flying around him in wide swoops, laughing. He reached out and caught her and gave her a hug. Her wings disappeared. 
All around them lay stunned chickens making weak clucking noises while trying and failing to stand up.
"Sweet Pea. Chickens are not invaders."
"Oh Daddy." Cleo said with a sad frown.
Her Dad hugged her."That's ok. Sweet Pea. When the invaders show up,you'll be ready for them. Let's eat. We are having your favorite tonight."
Cleo clapped and hugged her Dad around his neck. "Goody Daddy. I love mac and cheese."
				                                                                                                                                ***
In an empty classroom Mr. Albright found his daughter standing in a corner. "Cloe?"
His twelve year old daughter turned around. She was covered with dirt and one of her sleeves was torn. She faced him with determined crossed-arms, pursed lips and unshed tears she was fighting to hold in. "Daddy. I did just like you said Mom did. I didn't take it sitting down and protected the weak with a big spell."
Jon knelt down and gathered his daughter in his arms. "Yes you did, sweet pea. Yes you did. Mom would have been so proud of you. But next time try to tell a teacher first. Ok?"
Cloe hugged him back. "Ok Daddy."
		                                                                                                                          		***
After a five hour drive Jon pulled up to an abandoned stone church. There were a large number of magic users flying around above the structure. He struggled to climb the dilapidated stone stair case to the top floor which was open to the sky. He had a stretch bandage around his left elbow and stopped several times to catch his breath. Even in the golden setting sun he was drawn and pale.
One of the flyers swooped down on him. "Who is the old jerk? He has no aura. He is a useless normal nora." The flyer mocked and thru a chunk of rock at Jon.
From above Albright heard. "Dad! Dad? What are you doing here?" 
Cloe landed next to him kicking up a dust cloud.
Jon coughed. "The Dean of Students called me. You haven't been to school in four weeks. This is where you were supposed to learn all the magic I couldn't teach you."
Cloe let out an aggrieved huff,"I don't need this crap. Dad." She was dressed all in black, her wings inky black as well. "Daddy you don't understand."
"Sweet Pea, yes I do."
"How could you possibly understand who I am and how I feel?" She crossed her arms and glared at him. "You didn't teach me anything."
"That's not true." Her dad countered.
Cloe held up her mothers spell book and shook it at him. "No. No you didn't."
Jon tried to step nearer to her but she stepped back."Sweet pea, of course I couldn't teach you magic. But I did teach you right from wrong and we did the best we could without your mom."
"But it's not fair." She cried.
"No it is not. Nothing is fair unless we make it fair."
Cloe yelled and shot a bolt of lightening skyward.
Her Dad moved a step closer. "We both miss your mother. But no matter where she is, she's never stopped loving you. Come home and let's have dinner."
Cloe scowled at him. "No. Dad. I have to go."
Albright watched as his daughter soared up and away out of sight. He sighed and scrubbed his eyes."Oh Cloe, my sweet pea."
		                                                                         	                                                       	***
On the night of the first battle, the sky battalions flat-top troop ship rocked in the swells caused by the cover storm.
Lieutenant Cloe Albright finished putting on her flight suit, adjusting it to accomodate her wings. New bright gold bars graced her collar. Glancing at her image framed in the mirror she adjusted her gloves and concentrated, her mother's worn spell book in her hand. Around her reflection a bright strong halo of light grew. It sparked and crackled as she stared at herself with grim determination. On the desk was a picture of her father. Next to that another frame held his medals. 	The PA rung out in the barracks area. "Officers and troops of the 65th Enhanced Flight Battallion we are about to face our most difficult challenge yet. Our lands have been invaded by the Magisterial Opposition. We must repel them at all costs." 
She heard cheers from all around her.
"Keep in formation and cast when you have a clear shot. WE CAN TAKE'M!" 
At the sound of a klaxon, Cleo ran out onto the flight deck. The carrier was turning into the howling tempest. She joined her squadron of winged soldiers, taking the lead position. She nodded to her chiefs. They stood wing tip to wing tip and leaned into the churning winds. The first squadrons spread their wings and lifted off in formation. All around them energy bolts exploded on contact with the dark ship. The midnight skies were filled with hundreds of shapes outlined by bursts of white flame. Cloe lifted off, followed by her squad. "Finally found the invaders Dad."

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