Hola, todos/removes the sombrero from her head/ Well, a lot has happened to me since the last time I updated Haru. I graduated from High School, went to college orientation, and passed my Advanced Placement Spanish exam.

I also wrote a couple of drabbles inspired by the Usakomamoru livejournal community, which I’d love for you to check out (and review):

Nothing Personal- It isn't that Chiba Mamoru has anything against magic, you see. It just didn't fit with his idea of how the universe worked.

The Problem- Usagi believes that Chiba Mamoru has a problem. And she has decided that someone will just have to fix that.

So, who’s ready for the good news? You, sitting there in front of your computer, are you ready? THIS CHAPTER IS THE LONGEST THING I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. That’s right. Not even just the longest chapter of Haru, but longer than my one-shot Harry Potter fic too. It is 17 pages and 8, 524 words (without my notes, to those of you who are wondering if I cheated), which I personally think makes up for the last, pathetically short chapter.

Also, a few notes. I was greedy with this chapter since it’s the one I did the most planning for. In other words, it’s un-betaed, so please don’t blame my loverly beta Arashi-chan if you think it’s awful because I wouldn’t let her see it. She will be betaing the next chapter

Guys, if you are ever wondering where I’ve gotten to fanfiction/writing/fandom wise, check my livejournal. There’s a pretty good chance that I’ve posted an explanation there, but I also only post the status on my ‘fics there, along with the occasional sneak peek. All of my fics can be found on there as well, including my first awful one, which I WILL NOT post here because it is just that humiliatingly awful.

natsudorilina . livejournal . com

Dedications: To a few people this time: To my imouto-chaka (Nimbirosa/Arashinobara) for pushing me along and letting me vent and being understanding when I told her she couldn’t see it, to Elianthos for always leaving me such lovely reviews and encouragement, both on lj and ff . net, and to Hermionecrookshanks919 for lighting a fire under my butt with her eight reviews in one night.

And now… to Haru!

Haru no Kousekiinai Arimasu

Chapter 7

By Natsudori Lina

Usagi bit the white skin of her fist, determined to keep the sob that wanted to escape muffled. The branches above her brushed her head softly, swaying in the wind. The taste of blood was still there in her mouth, but it was gradually fading, along with the panic that accompanied it. Thinking of it brought a grimace to her face and she fought the urge to make sure that her hands weren't stained with blood as well.

She hadn't known quite where to go when she'd ran out of the shrine like that. There had simply been a frantic need to escape from them all… and from Mamoru most of all, so she'd leapt into the trees, praying that they wouldn't notice how much the leaves stirred.

She cautiously withdrew her hand from her mouth, wary of the emotions that she was trying to keep a chokehold on, and moved it to the blonde strands of her hair—which, she noticed, were slightly lighter than they used to be. She'd come out of that… whatever it was… to see the same blue eyes that had been dull with pain now shining with concern for her.

She hated to think what that might mean… hated to think that she knew what it meant. The dreams, the growing awareness of Dark Kingdom activity, the strange healing ability she'd always had, and her seeming inability to stay away from Mamoru—despite what Venus and Mars asked of her (for she knew that it was not merely Minako and Rei making the request). Worse, she feared that she knew what it might mean for all of them if she, Usagi, was… she could barely handle what everything now, she was just keeping it together, what would she do if she was right?

Usagi watched as Mamoru turned with obviously heated words to speak to the senshi. His emotions were high and he hadn't responded well to their attempt to leave him out of things; she supposed that after everything that had happened today, her leaving suddenly like that hadn't exactly helped matters.

Home, she thought vaguely. She'd go home, lock Luna out, close her door, pull her covers over her head and just sleep.

She watched as they filed out of the shrine one by one, obviously intending to look for her. All of them were (thankfully) heading in the direction of the arcade, the park, Naru's… it really was handy in this instance that all of her usual hide-outs were on the opposite side of town. Usagi waited a moment longer just to be sure they wouldn't come back before bounding down from the tree and fleeing in the direction of her house.

Usagi slammed the door behind her as she got inside. Ikuko peered out into the hall, stirring some sort of mixture with a large wooden spoon, looking slightly wan.

Usagi, about to climb the stairs to her room, stopped dead in her tracks. Oh no. "Wha-What are you making, Mama?" she asked cautiously.

Ikuko looked at the bowl, seeming almost surprised to see it there. "Cookies," she said nonchalantly.

Usagi sat down in a kitchen chair. Hard.

She's baking, Usagi thought with horror. "What happened?"

Ikuko laughed, a high-pitched giggle filled with nerves and tension. "I don't know what you mean, dear. It's just that earlier today this nice young man stopped by in a top hat, tuxedo, and mask to do a—" she dropped the spoon and began gesturing rather wildly, forming air quotes around her next words "'sweep of the area.'"

Usagi's jaw dropped as her mother bent to pick up the spoon. He had been hereshe thought faintly. He spoke to my mother... he came… how did he know

She eyed her mother's flour-covered face and sighed internally. And now I have to deal with Mama. I may have to kill him, she thought regretfully.

Ikuko jabbed the spoon back into the bowl, stirring as if determined to punish the batter for some wrongdoing. "Which really isn't anything out of the ordinary, of course. But then, imagine my surprise—my absolute shock—when he tells me that my own daughter has been attacked before!" She whirled around, blue hair flying as she leveled the batter-covered spoon before her daughter's wide cornflower blue eyes.

"Just what do you suppose he was talking about?"

Usagi gulped. She stood staring at her usually composed mother, who was panting slightly, batter splattered in her hair, and grasped desperately for an excuse.

"I was… at Osa-P when that first attack happened, remember?" she offered hesitantly.

"Oh." Her mother blinked and went back to stirring, more calmly this time. "Well that's alright then. Just try to stay out of situations like that next time, dear."

At last, at long last, after giving her mother instructions to tell everyone to leave her alone, Usagi collapsed into bed, the cool sheets feeling wondrous to her tired body. Knowing the risk of nightmares but too tired to care, she closed her eyes and let the darkness come.

Most people who knew Tsukino Usagi knew that she liked to eat. They knew that she enjoyed the carefree aspects of life: boy-watching, manga, arcade games. They knew that she cared very little for the institutions of learning that she was obligated to attend. But most of all they knew that it would be a cold day in hell before she rose early to get there.

That morning they were all shocked as Usagi positively zoomed down the stairs and out the back door an hour and a half before she usually left.

Her family, seated at the table for breakfast, paused in mid-bite, blinking slowly and turning to each other in verification of what they'd just seen. Tsukino Kenji put down his toast and turned to his wife, asking bemusedly. "Ikuko, dear… what's the temperature outside?"

Mamoru clenched a fist in frustration. Usagi had somehow managed to evade him every day since last Friday when he had come close, so damn close, to finally getting to the bottom of the enigma that was Usagi. He ran a frazzled hand through his hair staring through annoyed eyes at the clock that was ticking far too slowly for his peace of mind. He needed to figure out what was going on with her before—before—

Before what?

He shook his head. It wasn’t important.

Mamoru had shown up at Usagi’s house on Monday morning before school began, thinking to drive her to school and wrangle some answers out of her, find out if she was alright, and (he’d realized with a certain amount of dismay) generally enjoy the pleasure of her company.

Usagi hadn’t left the house that morning. At least not while he’d been there, and he had kept a close watch on her front door. Yet he had arrived at school and walked past her class to see her sitting at her desk, snoozing peacefully.

It was Thursday. He had tried every day to talk to her since then and she had somehow evaded him every time.

He looked at the clock once more. Five minutes ‘til. Class was about to end. Maybe if he…

Mamoru’s hand shot into the air, interrupting his Chemistry teacher in the middle of an explanation of some rule. Heisenberg’s principle? he wondered briefly with a quick, scanning glance to confirm. Good, he had managed to space out on material that he was familiar with. His teacher blinked at the confidently raised hand, having lost his train of thought. “Yes, Chiba-san?”

“May I please be excused to the restroom, Sensei?” Mamoru asked.

The teacher acquiesced to his request and Mamoru moved from his seat, taking time to leisurely walk down the hall to Usagi’s classroom. He was loathe to corner her like this, but if she wouldn’t come to him, then by the gods, he’d go to her.

The bell rang and he was burning a hole in the wooden door with his eyes as he willed it to open. Almost instantly, his wish was granted as it fairly flew open and a blonde blur whizzed past him and down the hallway. He blinked in bewilderment. Now where on earth was she going?

He began to follow when an exasperated Ami walked out of the room, looking left and then right, doing a double-take when she spotted him. “Ma-Mamoru-san, what are you doing here?”

He raised a sardonic brow. “I attend school here, Mizuno-san.”

She frowned. “You know that’s not what I--” She sighed. “Have you seen Usagi-chan?”

“Mm.” He made a noncommittal sound, neither confirming, nor denying this.

She eyed him appraisingly for a moment before turning left to exit the building. “If you see her,” she said quietly, facing the door. “Tell her that we’re sorry for—for whatever it is that we did.”

Mamoru watched as she left through the doors, presumably to have her lunch outside. He pivoted right and strode down the hallway, intent on locating Usagi, no matter how long it took. He peered in each and every door before finally spying a head full of blonde hair nestled into a corner of the computer lab. He swung open the door and waited for her eyes to raise from her bento to look at him. When her eyes finally trailed up from his shoes to meet his eyes, he smiled sarcastically and she… squeaked.

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Odango… did you just say ‘eep?’”

She waved a hand airily, an obviously feigned attempt at nonchalance. “No, no, ‘course not.” She pouted prettily and Mamoru was momentarily distracted by that petulant lip. “Baka-san, my hair isn’t in oda—buns,” she corrected herself hastily, pointing to the long ponytail the cascaded down her back.

He shook himself from his contemplation of Usagi’s lip and sun-spun hair and put his aloof smirk back in its proper place. “I had noticed,” he commented drily. “Why is that?”

She grinned widely, and pointed out the window to the tree flowering outside. “It’s spring, Baka-san! Season of change and all that.”

Mamoru was aware that she had steered the subject most effectively away from their last moment, but for the moment he allowed it and frowned in consternation. I don’t like this change, that small voice in his mind said sadly. “I don’t like it,” he said aloud. “It doesn’t suit you.”

She looked startled. “You really don’t think so?”

He shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not. You don’t look… like you,” he finished lamely.

She sighed and pulled her hair free of the ponytail. “Hold this a moment, would you?” she asked, handing Mamoru her scrunchie. She rummaged through her schoolbag. “I think I’ve got some pins in here somewhere,” she muttered. “Aha!” Her hand emerged triumphantly holding said pins and busied herself with twisting her hair up into its customary style. Mamoru waited until he thought that she was effectively preoccupied before he got the conversation back to where he wanted it.

“Usagi,” he said calmly, his tone belying nothing of his intention. “You wouldn’t be avoiding me, would you?”

Usagi thrust one pin into her hair, looking upward thoughtfully at the one half-done bun and reached out for another one. Mamoru handed it to her, watching her for any sign of a reaction. “Did you say something, Mamoru-kun?” she asked distractedly. He sighed and repeated the question. “Oh.” She took a moment to ponder this thoughtfully before sticking another pin into the first finished bun. “Yep.” She began twisting the next one up.

Mamoru blinked. He hadn’t expected her to agree quite so readily. “Ah.”

“Oh, it’s not just you,” she assured him casually. “I’ve been avoiding the girls too.”

He gritted his teeth in frustration as memory prompted him to deliver Ami’s messge. “Oh, right, Mizuno asked me to tell you that they’re sorry for whatever it is that they did.”

This gave her pause. “It’s not that anyone did anything,” she said, patting her finished hairstyle. “It’s just that… I dunno. I figured you’d all want answers.” Her eyes flicked away, staring at the corner. She didn’t want to remember.

A pause. “I see.” No, that was a lie. “And you aren’t inclined to give them?”

“Not particularly,” she said frankly. “Actually, you’re being better than I expected about this.”

“Odango--”

“Usagi,” she corrected with a glare. “And you’re going to get all weird on me now, aren’t you?” she asked resignedly.

“Yes. Usagi,” he said, waving a hand impatiently. “What happened?”

“I—nothing,” she said shortly, turning from him. “Just some bad memories cropping up at a bad time.”

“Usagi,” he said warningly.

“Look, Mamoru, it’s nothing okay? And it’s my business besides, I don’t know why you care,” she said, turning away.

That stung. “We’re friends, Usagi,” he said heatedly. “Something’s wrong with you, I want to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” she said stubbornly.

“Well too bad,” he said angrily, laying a hand on her shoulder and spinning her to face him. “’Cause you’re gonna get it.”

“Mamoru no baka,” she spat at him. “This isn’t something that even you, student and macho man extraordinaire, or no, can fix.”

Sarcasm didn’t become her, he noticed as he ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Why the hell not?”

“Because I think I’m finally figuring out what it means!” she screamed, losing all composure and gesturing wildly. “Because I’m scared of what it means if I’m right. Because I can’t put this on you too. Because it’s always scared me and it just keeps getting worse and because I don’t want to be right!”

Mamoru was the tiniest bit triumphant in one corner of his mind. It would be really easy to get the story out of her if Odango continued to have diarrhea of the mouth like this. He opened his mouth to prod her into revealing something further when she held up a hand, cutting him short.

“Don’t. I know what you’re trying to do and it isn’t going work,” she said, fumbling to close the clasps of her bag. He took it from her and closed it wordlessly. “I have to—damn it,” she said, cursing in a burst of anger as her brooch began to flash pink light into the room. She moved toward the door and, but found him blocking the way.

“That brooch again, Odango,” he said, eyeing it with distrust. “What does it mean?”

“Nothing,” she said shortly, moving to the left.

“Nothing again,” he said, matching her step. “Your life would be awfully boring if it was filled with as many nothings as you say. What does the brooch mean, Usagi?”

“Nothing! Mamoru, I have to—I—Move!” she cried, pushing past him and running out into the hallway.

He darted out and—as he had half-expected—she was gone. He spun around angrily. Why did she keep doing that?

Usagi held her breath inside of the janitor’s closet, thankful that it been the room next to the computer lab. She watched through the slits in the door as Mamoru looked left and right for her. Her hands shook and her breathing came in shallow gasps. A youma was coming. Just one, she was fairly certain from her reaction, though it was getting gradually easier to control. She reached out a hand to steady herself, bumping a hand against a mop.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Mamoru after some hesitation had turned and walked past the closet, but… why was he just standing there, looking confused? His back was to her, could she… No. It was too risky, he was right there, he’d see the light through the door. It was too risky, too risky, too—

--Too late.

Her eyes widened as she straightened with a gasp of pain. Her hand clenched into a fist as she regulated her breathing hastily. The youma’s here, she thought distantly. There was nothing for it. She’d have to transform there and risk discovery. “Moon Prism Power,” she whispered softly to her persistently blinking brooch and threw her hand into the air waiting for the momentary ecstasy that accompanied the rush of power.

Fully transformed, she fled the closet, casting a half-apologetic gaze back at Mamoru who seemed to be pre-occupied with studying his—wrist? She shook her head. She’d never understand that man.

She located the youma in the courtyard, having exited the building while Mamoru’s back was turned. It hadn’t been difficult to work out how her body reacted to its presence in order to track the youma down. The further away she got, the worse her reaction became. The closer she got… well, her breathing would ease, her hands would become steady, and she’d no longer have to fight the urge to let her eyes roll up into the back of her head. Sailor Moon stood in the courtyard, body at ease now, the strain, the pressure, of her spirit demanding that she do battle gone now as she searched for her the enemy.

There was a rustle in the leaves—there! Ami, Minako, and Makoto sat beneath the same tree that the youma was camouflaged, faces serious as they discussed something in low tones. Minako trailed off and looked up taken aback when she saw a horrified Sailor Moon staring into the branches above them. Minako flinched as something… gloopy dripped onto the grass next to her. Hesitantly, she looked up, Ami and Makoto’s eyes following hers. Seeing the ash-colored youma crouched there, salivating, they dove to the side; Makoto and Minako to one side, Ami to the other.

The youma roared with anger at its prey’s evasion and leapt nimbly down from the tree to crouch on the ground, using its six limbs to steady itself, and glare menacingly up at Sailor Moon who straightened her shoulders resolutely.

“I’ll clear the area; find somewhere to transform,” Minako muttered in an aside to Makoto, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

Minako took a deep breath to fill her lungs with oxygen and let it loose a one long blood-curdling scream. “Aiiiiieeeee! Monster!” she screeched, scrambling to her feet, and heading indoors. “Run for your lives!” A hoard of stampeding students followed in her wake, having taken one look at the youma and heeding her instructions. She led them to the building before darting to the side to let them all run past her. Makoto and Ami had meanwhile slipped away to the side of the school to find somewhere to henshin.

Sailor Moon braced her legs against the ground, grinding them into the dirt to get her bearings as the youma eyed her with an uncharacteristically evaluating gleam in its orange eye. “How—how dare you!” Sailor Moon shouted, her usually righteous speech fueled simply by rage this time. “What gives you the right to barge onto school grounds and interrupt tired students in the middle of a peaceful lunch and conversation? You have no right! And I--” her voice faltered slightly, growing softer. “I’m not going to stand for it.” Her spirit strengthened, her will resolved, she clenched a fist in determination. “For love and justice,” she said firmly. “I am Sailor Moon. And I will punish you.”

Tuxedo Kamen watched from above as Sailor Moon gave the customary speech and the youma attacked. She dodged blow after blow, obviously trying to tire it out before the rest of the senshi arrived to get its energy low enough to be able to vanquish it with her tiara. He started in surprise as she went on the offensive, spinning to deliver a forceful kick to its side. Whatever training the senshi had been doing was obviously working. And… he blinked. Well, he certainly hadn’t imagined using the Crescent Moon Wand that way, but he supposed it worked.

A bolt of lightning, courtesy of Jupiter, he supposed, whizzed in front of his face nearly startling him right off his branch. The youma howled in anger as it seared into its skin and Sailor Moon, guessing correctly that the senshi had arrived to take this part over the fight out of her hands, moved to the side to await her chance.

Amidst a shower of Crescent Beams, fireballs, and lightning zaps, Tuxedo Kamen strained his eyes to see the fight below him. So intent was he that he didn’t notice when a figure materialized next to him and followed his gaze to the blonde warrior in pigtails.

“Mmm,” Zoicite murmured, lips quirked up into a sarcastic half-grin. “I suppose you’re waiting for your chance to swoop in and save the day, are you?”

Tuxedo Kamen turned and gripped his cane defensively, eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?” he spat.

Zoicite waved his hand dismissively. “Now, now, none of that. I’m not here to attack at the moment. This is merely an—intelligence gathering mission, I suppose you’d say,” he said watching the senshi maneuver around the Dark Kingdom’s creature.

“I suppose you would need intelligence in your circle,” Tuxedo Kamen said bitterly.

“Clever,” a sarcastic Zoicite responded. He peered through the leaves once more and sighed. “Well, this won’t do. How can you see a thing?”

“I’m gifted,” he said shortly.

“Yes, well, be that as it may…” His figure disappeared to float above the battleground, and his eyes were still trained on Sailor Moon, making Tuxedo Kamen distinctly uncomfortable. He abandoned his post amongst the branches and landed in front of Sailor Moon in a defensive position.

“Tuxedo Kamen-sama!” she exclaimed, mouth open in a small ‘o’ of surprise. “What are you--” She broke off to frown. What was this weird feeling all of a sudden, like memory was poking at her mind? She was supposed to do… something. A disturbance in her sub-space pocket made her investigate curiously to find the nijizuishou glowing. She started and followed that strange feeling from her pocket to Tuxedo Kamen, to Zoicite. A light dawned. The nijizuishou were all here.

He held up a hand, eyeing Zoicite for any sudden moves. Zoicite smirked, seeming to know exactly what he was thinking. “Eyes on the battle, Sailor Moon,” he said softly.

She blinked. “Right,” she said uncertainly, turning back.

A cry came from the fray; Sailor Mars’s voice, who had appeared only moments ago and leapt into the fight eagerly. “Now, Sailor Moon!”

“Left knee!” Mercury added helpfully, dodging one of its appendages.

“Got it!” Sailor Moon put a hand to her forehead.

Tuxedo Kamen frowned. Why was Zoicite still watching her? Shouldn’t he be seeing what went wrong with his minion? And why… why did he have a very bad feeling about all of this?

“Moon.” She pivoted in a graceful circle. “Tiara Action!” she yelled. She removed the tiara to let it fly and let out a cry as light exploded from her forehead. What was happening? she thought wildly as the pain brought her to her knees as she pressed a shaky hand glowing silver to her forehead in an effort to ease her agony. She didn’t care who saw, she thought around the inferno in her mind. She was certain that she knew what all of this meant now, but for now she just wanted the pain to stop. Just once she prayed that her silver power would ease her own anguish.

The senshi watched, eyes horrified.

“It can’t be,” Mercury said, typing frantically. “It’s not what I think--”

“It is,” Mars said, eyes filled with sympathy as they watching their friend glow like a small beacon of light and were helpless to do anything about it. None of them heard the youma’s anguished scream as the Moon Tiara sliced it neatly in two, rendering it to nothing more than dust.

Jupiter had apparently been struck speechless, but Venus’s eyes were on Zoicite who had a sinister grin on his face. “No,” she breathed in denial. The Tiara settled itself back onto Sailor Moon’s brow.

“Oh, yes,” he said darkly, with a satisfied chuckle, as Sailor Moon braced herself with both hands on the ground as she collapsed, panting heavily. He moved toward her quickly, but was stopped short by the irate figure of Tuxedo Kamen, cane clutched in one hand, a rose in the other, poised to throw.

“You stay the hell away from her,” he growled through gritted teeth. “If you lay one damn hand on her, I’ll cut. It. Off.”

Their eyes met in a challenge, the school grounds silent now, save for Sailor Moon’s desperate gasps for air. The four remaining senshi recovered themselves to stand in front of him, expressions grim as the elements danced around their hands in response to heightened emotions.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Jupiter said with a quiet menace as the senshi stared at him in an unsettlingly quiet manner, daring him to make a move. Zoicite laughed.

“And if I were you,” he said pointedly, “I’d keep a closer watch on my charge.”

They whirled to see Tuxedo Kamen’s cape fluttering behind him as he leapt for the roof, an overwrought Sailor Moon still recovering in his arms.

Zoicite took advantage of their shock to rise into the air, laughing uproariously as he let himself fade away. “Just like I said.” His eyes were fixed intently on that slowly disappearing blur of black and gold. “Just waiting to swoop in and save the day.”

Sailor Moon watched the buildings flash by her despondently. She had been right. All of that hope for nothing. And now—she closed her eyes against the sob that wanted to rise and saw the images of blue eyes lit with anger and a red-lined black cape as it closed around her protectively, lovely and warm. The senshi would want a miracle from her now. And she had no idea how to give it to them.

The images flashed in her mind again and she bit her lip until it turned white from pressure. When would she get what she wanted? she wondered.

Tuxedo Kamen finally came to a stop on one rooftop after casting a surveying glance at the area behind him. Seeing no sign of Zoicite or any threats from the Dark Kingdom, he set her down, but remained on his guard. He eyed her carefully. Her breathing had recovered, he noted with some relief. And she didn’t seem to be exhibiting any—abnormal glowing tendencies. She was just standing there, looking at her hands bitterly as if they’d somehow betrayed her.

“The glowing.” He spoke suddenly. “What does it mean?”

She laughed emptily. “Which one?”

“Silver first, then your forehead,” he decided. “And what happened last time when you collapsed like that?”

She sighed, resigningherself to answering his questions. “The silver… remember that day during training when I healed your cut?” He nodded to show he understood. “I can heal. Not myself, not usually, but…” She shrugged. “I’ve always had it. I can control it for the most part now, but when I was younger and someone needed it, it was just sort of--” she gestured vaguely “—pulled out of me. And the other day, there were people falling left and right and so many people needed it that it was pulled out again. I’ve never been around such a big number of people who needed it, so when it started to be drawn out, I panicked. I’d never felt anything like it before, so I tried to keep it in and then… gods, it burned.” She put a hand to her chest, remembering. “I was afraid of what it would do to you.”

“It was scary,” he said fervently. “I had no idea how to protect you against that.”

She smiled a sad little half-smile, a shadow of the grin that usually dominated her small face. “Can’t. It’s a part of me.”

“Mm. And why did the silver show up today?”

Even the half-smile faded now and he had the ridiculous urge to walk over and push the corners of Sailor Moon’s mouth back up into the position that they belonged. “I’m sure you noticed that my forehead was shining like a small lighthouse. It was… painful. I had hoped that just this once--” She flexed her hand helplessly.

Realization dawned. “You wanted to heal yourself. Make the pain stop.”

“Yeah.” She smiled sadly again. “Can’t blame me.”

“I have something similar,” he confessed. “Nothing glowy, but it’s golden. And sparkly.”

Her lips twitched suspiciously. “Sparkly?”

“They’re very manly sparkles,” he said seriously.

She laughed, a full-throated one this time. “Of course.”

Tuxedo Kamen looked at her in relief. She’d be okay, he was sure. “And your forehead?” he prompted expectantly.

The laughter faded from her eyes as they widened, startled, having forgotten that he’d already mentioned it once. “I--” she tried. “It’s--” She sighed. “It’s nothing.” Her forehead burned beneath her Tiara. Liar, it seemed to whisper mockingly.

“Nothing.” His voice was flat. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “I’m going to ask you to please not lie to me,” he said earnestly. “Please.”

Her eyes were searching as she looked at him. “Okay. It isn’t nothing. But I can’t tell you what it is.”

“But—why?” he demanded. “You said you trusted me. If that’s true, then why…”

“It’s not that.” Her voice was soft as she turned away to stare at the ground. “If I tell you… I’ll have to admit to it. I’ll have to try to give them their damn miracle and I’ll lose out on everything I want--” Those blue eyes again. She hadn’t even known until she thought that she couldn’t have him. And that cape as well. Why couldn’t she have what she wanted, why? “And—and I can’t--” I can’t be that person again, she thought hearing the steel ring out again. Seeing bodies strewn about. Tasting the blood again. Watching. Him. Fall. I can’t feel that pain again.

Tuxedo Kamen buried his hands in the sides of her hair, forcing her to look at him. “I’m not asking you to,” he said frustratedly, closing his eyes behind his mask as he brought his lips down on hers abruptly. Sailor Moon’s eyes widened with surprise before she let them close slowly. She rose on her tiptoes to entwine her arms around his neck hesitantly, as she gave her self over to the kiss—to him. She’d worry about consequences later; worry about the guilt that nagged about the edge of her memory later. Right now all she wanted to concentrate on was the man who had saved her life day after day, night after night for months. So she kept her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, begging him to make her forget—just for a few minutes.

It was a gentle kiss, but undoubtedly fueled by the raw emotion that Tuxedo Kamen had bottled up, the cap suddenly bursting under pressure. He didn’t quite know what he was doing, he’d realize later. He had just wanted—he reflected, moving his hand from her hair to caress her back possessively—wanted to make her better. His top-hat fell off as he angled his head to the side to deepen the kiss and her hands curled in the hair at the nape of his neck. And after hearing her sound so much like Usagi…

Usagi.

He broke away. Chests heaving, they couldn’t make themselves face each other. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly into the awkward silence, sincerely apologetic. “It’s just that--”

“—There’s someone else.” It wasn’t a question. She laughed sadly again. “Yeah, me too.” In more ways than one, she finished silently.

He felt an irrational surge of jealousy and tried shove it back down. That was ridiculous. Hadn’t he just pushed her away? He took a step toward her. “I--”

She stepped back, holding out a halting hand as if to ward him off. “I have to go. I’m sorry. I need to go.” Sailor Moon leapt from the rooftop, heading further into the city, pigtails flapping and skirt swaying in the wind.

Tuxedo Kamen let her go.

Mamoru powered down and, not daring to test his luck anymore than he already had today, climbed down a fire escape. He was still reeling from the revelation that he’d experienced. Usagi, he contemplated. Really? Of all people? They couldn’t seem to stop arguing, but…he had to admit that he had noticed that he cared for her. He’d have to be an idiot not to have noticed. He needed to think. Where should he go to ponder this? he wondered before answering himself with a self-deprecating chuckle. Of course. He’d go where he always went for a little coffee, advice, and jokes at his own expense. The Crown Arcade… and Motoki.

Mamoru walked through the doors of the Arcade and settled himself into a seat at the counter, where he rested his head on his hands. Motoki whapped him gently with a dishrag and Mamoru recoiled in disgust. “Get that thing away from me,” he said, repulsed. Motoki paused in the act of winding his towel for a sharp flick.

“What’s with you?” he asked raising a brow curiously as he apparently changed his mind and chose to wipe down the counter instead, flicking stray crumbs into Mamoru’s lap.

Mamoru applied pressure to the sides of his head, as if trying to bore some unwanted thoughts from his mind. “Motoki,” he said thinly, voice straining; on edge. “How did you know?”

He halted his wax-on, wax-off routine to stare at Mamoru blankly. “Know what?”

“About--” his tongue fumbled, nerves making him reluctant to say it. “About Usagi,” he finally mumbled.

Motoki’s mouth twisted thoughtfully as he squinted his eyes in memory. “Usagi-chan, Usagi-chan… what do I know about Usagi-chan?”

Mamoru stared at him, flabbergasted. “Are you joking? You’ve been bugging me about this for weeks and you don’t even…”

Motoki shoved him in the shoulder. “Shut up. I’m thinking.”

“An act of God, I’m sure,” Mamoru muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I--”

“—I have it!” Motoki exclaimed, slamming his hand forcefully down onto the counter. A nearby patron jumped at this disturbance to their progress in slowly achieving a sugar high. “You finally realized you’re human, didn’t you? You figured out that you have emotions and it’s scaring the hell out of you. That’s why you’re all--” he motioned in Mamoru’s direction with a jerky up and down gesture “—distraught.” There was a triumphant gleam in his eye. “You finally realized that you’re in lo—mmmpph!” Mamoru’s hand covered his mouth.

“Quiet,” he said desperately. “I’m not—I mean—I like her, I do, but—Ow! You bit me!” He glared at Motoki. “You had better have had all of your shots.”

Motoki ignored this, choosing instead to bellow. “Love is in the air!”

Mamoru might have throttled him, but Fate chose that moment to intervene, sending four panting girls into the Arcade in a blur of sweat and nervous energy. Minako looked at Mamoru for the first time in recent memory without malice or ill will, but hope. Rei, Ami, and Makoto had expressions of such ferocious determination and frantic worry on their faces that, for a moment, he was taken aback. A feeling of deep foreboding stole over him as he noticed one familiar face noticeably missing from their number. “Girls,” he said cautiously, raising a hand slightly in greeting, abandoning his efforts to kill Motoki. He hesitated. “Where’s Odango?”

Their faces fell. “You really don’t know?” Rei asked, uncharacteristically vulnerable, begging for him to contradict her.

“I really don’t,” he said, looking from one to the next. “Why? What’s--”

Minako strode over to him. “We need your help Mamoru-san,” she said softly, humbling herself before him. “You know Usagi. If something went wrong, if things got to be too much for her… it’s important. We can’t figure it out, no matter where we seem to look and no matter what Rei tries. Where do you think—Where would she go?”

Mamoru struggled to find the words to crush their hopes. “I really don’t know. All I can think is that she’d try to avoid anyone she knew--”

“That’s not good enough!” Makoto’s voice rose on a wave of emotion, as Ami held her back from trying to beat the answers out of him. He looked on, helpless to give them what they wanted.

“Please,” Minako begged, closing her eyes. “Think about it. Please.” Her voice cracked desperately.

He felt a flash of—inspiration? intuition?—something and opened his mouth to speak. “The lake,” he heard himself say. “She’d go to the lake.”

Calm, Usagi thought with an inward sigh of relief. Finally. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves in the nearby trees and water lapped gently at the docks. Her need to escape had driven her here, but the desperation and guilt were fading slightly away from Mamoru, Tuxedo Kamen, and all reminders of senshi duty.

She heard voices coming down the path, a low murmuring accompanied by an intimate chuckle. Lovers, she thought with a pang of guilt, her throat tightening, moving away with what was almost a flinch toward the docks.

I'll rent a boat, Usagi decided. They'd come looking for her soon enough, and they all knew her well enough to know where she'd go. At least she could take the boat out for as long as she wanted. When they confronted her—when Mamoru confronted her about her hall escape-- and demanded an explanation, it would be on her terms. So much of her life was spiraling out of her control, but at least she could decide when to face them. Her hand dug little crescents into her palm at the injustice of it all. She fought for love and justice, but where were they for her?

She continued her walk to the end of the dock and stared at the tranquil waters of the lake. "I'd like to rent a boat please," she said absently to the man operating the rental station.

"Certainly," he said pleasantly. "That'll be 1,500 yen."

She burrowed a hand in her purse, seeking the appropriate amount, and passed it to him. As she withdrew her hand, however, he caught it. "You seem a bit down," he said, his manner almost friendly, almost conversational. Usagi tried in vain to pull her hand away. His voice was vaguely familiar. Where--?

"I can't imagine why you'd be upset," he said, seemingly oblivious to her continued struggle to free herself.

"Oh yeah, it's almost impossible to figure out why I'd be agitated when a complete stranger—" the straw hat hiding his features lifted, revealing strawberry blonde tied back and cold green eyes glittering threateningly "—grabs… my… hand," Usagi trailed off. Zoicite, she thought, a swell of alarm rising within her. Gods, couldn't the Dark Kingdom leave her alone for the rest of the day?

"It's an awful shame you're so down," he continued, sounding nearly sympathetic.

Oh gods, her breath was starting to hitch in little gasps now as panic set in swiftly. What was she going to do? She couldn't henshin in a public place, couldn't let Zoicite find out who she was, couldn't run, couldn't get away, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't.

"Even so," whereas before he had been making a concerted effort to keep his tone light, it now turned darker, more menacing, "you have a higher degree of energy than anyone who has come here in days." This as he toyed with the strands in her pigtail and Usagi was helpless to do much more than swallow nervously. "And I sense the very distinct presence of the nijizuishou." His hand fisted in her hair, yanking her closer to him. She bit her lip to stifle the cry that wanted to escape. "Now why," he breathed softly, a cruel gleam of triumph shining in his eye, "do you suppose that might be?"

She had to run. She had to try, but something must have betrayed her intentions to him-- a nervous flicker of her eyes to the side, a slight shift of her weight—because his hand moved to close around her throat.

"No one here to protect you now."

He knew.

Mamoru followed the girls at a quick pace. They seemed to want to run, but were holding themselves back for some reason. “How important is it that we get there soon?” he asked, voice on edge with worry.

Ami looked at him seriously out of the corner of her eye as Minako and Rei, at the head of the group, began a light jog and the rest of them followed their lead. “Important, Mamoru-san,” she said seriously. “Very important.”

His worry increased and the landscape became less and less urban, trees populating the area more and more, buildings becoming sparse. With not a little relief, he spied the sign that declared the park and lake open to the public for business and darted across the road with the others. He paused on the other side, a curious look stealing over his features. Makoto, the closest to him, stopped as one by one, the rest noticed, and followed suit.

“Mamoru-san,” she asked with trepidation. “What are you doing?”

He frowned thoughtfully and concentrated on the vague feeling that was just there, niggling on the edge of his senses. A look of surprise and anxiety replaced curiosity on his face and finally, he spoke. “I think,” he said carefully, “that something is very wrong.”

Usagi squinted her eyes shut against the tears sprang up, prompted by fear. What could she do? she wondered again frantically, her heart beating a quickened rhythm against her chest. How had he known? She opened her mouth to speak, to question, but Zoicite beat her to it.

“Yes?” he asked silkenly, acting genuinely curious.

“How?” was all that she managed to choke out around his grip on her neck. Her tongue felt swollen with terror, heavy in her mouth, like lead, refusing to wrap itself around the words that she wanted to use and the questions that she wanted answered.

“How what?” he asked, with confidence in his eyes. She felt all the more helpless seeing it there. He knew that she was powerless like this. He knew that for once he was the one with the upper hand, and he was relishing it like a starving man would his first bite of food in days. “How did I know that you were Sailor Moon?” he whispered. “Or that you were Princess Serenity?”

She clenched her fist. So, he knew all of it.

“It was simple--” he paused “—your highness.” His words were like an arrow. “You see, I was there too when you people of the Moon watched us and laughed, lording your long life spans over us. And do you know what I remembered?” His eyes cut to hers, a mocking smile on his lips. “There was no senshi of the Moon.”

Usagi’s eyes shot open with surprise at that. So Luna had made a mistake in making her Sailor Moon, after all. The irony struck her all at once and she laughed—a half-hiccup, half-giggle.

Zoicite glared at her. “I wouldn’t be laughing just now,” he said dangerously, and she sobered. “I’ve watched you for weeks now,” he said. “And I’ll bet that you weren’t aware of a couple things.” He held up one finger. “For instance, when you use your little Tiara to destroy my youma, I don’t think that you knew that your handy little glamour all but disappears.” He frowned angrily. “I’ll admit that it took me awhile to work out who you were in your civilian guise, but then I noticed the second thing that made it worthwhile.” He held up another finger and tapped the space in the middle of her forehead. “Very occasionally, when you fling that glorified Frisbee of yours, a little crescent moon would glow right there.” Zoicite grinned widely now. “I was watching for the little moon to show up again, but I’ll admit that the power you showed today was more than I had hoped for. Now that I think of it,” he pondered, dropping his tally and moving one finger to his lips in thought, still keeping a tight hold on her pigtail “what could have caused that?”

Usagi had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what the answer might be, but kept her lips sealed tightly shut resolutely, hoping that her look of mindless fear would be enough to convey a mental shrug.

“That doesn’t matter,” Zoicite decided. “Imagine the reward Queen Beryl will give me when I present her with Sailor Moon and Princess Serenity,” he paused to smirk down at her maliciously and Usagi felt her stomach give a nervous jump. “Dead,” he finished softly.

At Mamoru’s last words, the girls had abandoned all attempts to walk at a sensible pace. Legs and arms pumping, they took off at a dead run for the lake, disappearing into the trees and Mamoru took the beaten path, panting. Whatever had Usagi’s friends so frightened must be bad. And there was that feeling in the pit of his stomach… He tore past a couple wrapped up in each other on a bench. The closer that he got to the docks, the worse he felt, like a creature was clawing frantically inside of him, angrily tangling itself in his intestines; his stomach certainly felt like it was in knots.

He saw a flash of gold through the trees, and, not entirely sure why, he dashed behind a nearby trash receptacle and peered around. Usagi’s head was bent at an uncomfortable angle, some man’s hand (he clenched his fist) tangled in her hair, bending it forcefully toward him. Mamoru frowned—what was it about his stance that seemed so…?

The man pulled Usagi’s hair tighter as he growled something through clenched teeth, eliciting a strangled cry from her and his features were at last visible to Mamoru.

Zoicite.

Mamoru felt his heart stop.

Usagi’s eyes widened, feeling something… oddly familiar, warm her from the inside. What was—could it possibly be that-- She felt her hope grow. It was the nijizuishou. It had to be. She had felt the same way at the battle earlier today and was certain that if she were to look, all of them would be glowing.

Something in her expression must have belied her newfound feeling of hope, for Zoicite yanked her hair, prompting a surprised shriek from her. “What, pray tell,” he gritted out, “do you have to be happy about?”

Usagi concentrated on willing the nijizuishou to her, remaining silent. Come on, she prayed. Please. A few small gems slipped from Zoicite’s pocket, but his attention was on her.

“I would suggest,” he said, using his free hand to grab her chin in an iron grip. “That you speak when you are spoken to, Princess.”

His nijizuishou flew into her hand along with her own. She concentrated intently now. The other ones were so far… Her forehead began to emanate a slight golden glow. The others flew from a spot in the trees to join with the rest. “And why--” Zoicite frowned “—why did that little moon just show up again?” He ground the tender inside of her cheek into her teeth. “Well?”

Usagi’s eyes were triumphant as they flicked down to her hand and she slowly opened it to reveal the seven glowing stones. Zoicite’s mouth tightened, loosing his hand from her hair to fly at her face. “You little bitch!”

She stumbled away from him as an enraged Mamoru flew from the bushes and the senshi leapt down from the trees. Usagi and the nijizuishou were engulfed in bright pink light that exploded from her brooch. She let out a cry of surprise as it raised her into the air, before the light surrounding her grew too bright, too intense for them to look at.

Mamoru started in surprise as he found his street clothes almost washed away as they were gradually replaced with armor and a cape similar to the one that he wore as Tuxedo Kamen. He blinked slightly, before coming to terms with it. It felt right. He decided to make good use of the sword that had appeared at his side, and strode toward Zoicite. Zoicite was transfixed in horror, dreams of Dark Kingdom rewards vanishing before his eyes, as he kept his eyes locked on that glowing orb of pink.

Mamoru—no, he corrected himself mentally with growing awareness, Endymion. That was his name. Endymion tapped Zoicite politely on the shoulder and when he turned, slammed his fist into his face, knocking him to the ground. A weapon could be handy, he contemplated as he drew his from its sheath, but nothing felt quite so good as bone breaking contact.

He placed one booted foot on Zoicite’s chest and grabbed his hand. “This is the one that you were going to hit her with, isn’t it?” he mused thoughtfully. Abruptly, Endymion brought his sword down, severing hand from limb. Zoicite screamed in agony as his arm began to spurt blood. He tried to turn on his side to vomit. “Uh-uh,” Endymion chided gently, wagging a finger at him as he pressed down harder with his foot, keeping him there. Zoicite began to choke on the bile. Endymion ‘tsk’ed softly, dangerously. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” he asked as the pink glow began to recede behind them. With one sharp movement, he thrust his sword into Zoicite’s heart, watching the light fade from his eyes as he wiped the blood from his sword on his cape with distaste. He spat bitterly on the corpse as it turned to dust. “You’ll never touch her again.”

The glow faded to expose the figure of Usagi—no, Serenity-- in a white gown, a glowing silver crystal in her hands,—“The ginzuishou!” Sailor Mercury gasped—a peaceful smile playing on her lips, and a small golden moon nestled between her brows as she floated gently to the ground. Endymion stood waiting to receive her as she landed. They embraced, murmuring each others’ names before sharing a gentle, but long-awaited kiss.

They broke off at a quivering “Princess?” from Sailor Venus, as though she was requesting confirmation that what she saw was indeed real. Serenity’s blue eyes were understanding as she nodded and Venus let out a glad cry that was half-sob as she sank to her knees, bowing before a startled Serenity, whose mouth was frozen in a little ‘o’ of bewilderment. Mars, Jupiter, and Mercury followed suit, leaving a surprised Serenity clutching Endymion’s arm as she blinked at them in amazement.

On an unlikely battleground, where the senshi and their ally had sustained surprisingly few injuries, the Princess and Prince had awakened anew.

/bounces nervously on balls of feet/ So, what did you think? The ending’s a little rough, I know, but I had some trouble with it. I had a lot of reservations with this chapter because I had a tendency to write late at night when my sense of humor was out of whack and I couldn’t resist slipping some jokes into serious scenes.

What did you think of the kiss scene? Did it come off awkward? I’ve never actually… you know, so I had nothing to base it off of, but fiction, but I hope it wasn’t too bad. There are scenes I thought were too rushed and stuff I thought that I might not have explained adequately.

A couple of explanations- As you have probably guessed, Minako and Rei both retained their memories of the Silver Millenium. The angsty-ness in trying to keep Usagi and Mamoru away from each other stems from their worry that their love will once again bring about the fall of a civilization.

Zoicite kind of flew in from left field. I had about as much idea that he was going to show up as you did, but then he and the nijizuishou popped up in my mind and I thought, “hey… that might be the way to do it…”

My Endymion killing Zoicite scene… wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Didn’t know I had those kinds of images in my mind, and I still don’t know if I have the ability to write them. It seemed kind of weird to me, but I just couldn’t leave it out.

And now Usagi and Mamoru know who they were in their past lives and that they were together. But there’s something that they still don’t know, isn’t there? Think about it.

I felt the ending was somewhat… again, awkward, abrupt, etc. Please let me know what you guys thought.

Hmm… there’s a lot of stuff I was insecure about, wasn’t there? Nevertheless, there are a few scenes in here that I’m really proud of. Do me a favor and push that little button to let me know what you thought, k?

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