A/N: I'm reposting this story. I've edited the chapters to delete those nasty wrong grammars I was known for when I first started writing and to streamline the story. To former readers look for the Author's Note that said this is the part where the story left of, okay? I'll update every five days till I reach Act two Scene two. Hugs!

I do not own Sailor Moon (Disclaimer applies to succeeding chapters)

Take note of the way the story is written, okay? I'm sort of experimenting on the way I'm telling this particular story. Hope you enjoy it!

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"Denying Cupid"

By Counterfeiting Shakespeare

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prologue:

My story begins the way all fan fictions are commonly written.

"Enigmatic."

"Brooding."

"Mysterious."

"And just plain sinful in his hotness…"

"Utterly uncaring of the broken hearts he leaves behind his gorgeous wake…"

Sighs around the table. Six girls were seated there. They were college girls from the looks of them. The hair, the make up, and the clothes singled them out from the normal patrons of the Crown Arcades. Normally, they would have been hanging out at the hip coffee shop near the university they were attending, but there was something – make that someone – that the girls openly admitted to stalking, who frequented the teen hang out.

No one needed to mention the words handsome, chiselled and or sensual, because it would have been redundant. There was no need to state something so obvious.

Three of the girls were black haired and had dark eyes. One was a red head, one was a brunette with pink highlights on her tresses, and the last was platinum blond. They had red lipstick on their lips, and their nails were long and manicured. All was attractive in that slightly typical cosmopolitan way.

The raven haired girl sitting nearest the exit smacked her head painfully like. "Ohmegod, how stupid could we get? Furuhuta works here, after all. We should have thought that before!" She said theatrically in a soft soprano. A fake soprano, by the way. And it was no where near soft at all.

Her friends swung their eyes to the arcade manager. The blonde was handsome enough, if you were into the boy next door type. But all six of the girls were strict members of the Chiba Mamoru Fan club. For them, only the tall, dark, and handsome upperclassman would do. No one else could be of equal calibre to that man. He was the mould to which all black haired anime hunks sprung from.

And then, wonders of wonders, for there he walked in. The man of their dreams. The reason why all six of the girls - and half the population of their school - lived and breathed. Even the female instructors (and, yes, its true, some male professors ) were not immune to this living god's charm.

He had a loose walk. Predatory, to be precise, in compliment to his dark coloring. The shock of black hair shaded his eyes, but the cold that haunted those cobalt orbs were visible to those who looked.

And boy, did they look.

It could not be helped. He was very, very handsome. Even in the hideous green jacket, he oozed gorgeousness. It was to be debated that he had to wear that horrible coat of his, simply on the principle that no one was perfect. So there it was: His one flaw.

Meiko, the leader, snatched her hand from her smoothie glass and tried to still her heart beats by placing it on top of her chest. She also hoped that with this gesture, Chiba-san would be forced to look at her cleavage. It would have been horrible; to have bought that incredibly skimpy low cut blouse and him never setting his eyes on it, (The breast, I mean) after all.

Mizuki Kione, the fan club's official eyes and ears, did a successful swoon from where she was seating. How she innocently flashed Mamoru-san with her racy lace panties, we would never know, but you'll have to give her credit for execution. With theatrical movement, she fluffed her platinum blond hair, hoping the dark roots would not show from where she was seating.

The other four were also in various maiden in distress poses. This was a prime moment. Only a fool would let it go to waste. And, honey, these fluffy predators knew when NOT to let a good opportunity get away. And desperation lent an extra boost to their performance.

They were not alone.

All the females in the vicinity were primping. Young and old, they were helpless in the need to be the one to spread some warmth in the newcomer's icy life.

It's sad, though, that Mamoru was never told that such needs existed.

In his short life, when he was looking for comfort at a very vulnerable age of six, some cosmic joke saddled him with this nightmare of a girl who insisted his life's purpose was to find for her a crystal. Selfish brat, I know. But we know, if Mamuro didn't, that this dream girl led a tragic ancient life herself. Besides, she rounded up pretty nicely when she got reborn. Ditched the whole, 'the world revolves around my fragile being' and just simply anted up her adorableness.

Even if technically, the world still sorta revolved around her. More so now than then, in fact.

Ironic, ne?

The need to be with a girl to be with for the rest of his sad and lonely life simply didn't exist to Mamoru-sempai. In fact, even a girl fainting in a dead swoon, was no reason for him to take account the hush that descended any vicinity whenever he appeared. He had become… used to it. He had that effect on everyone – mostly female- his whole life.

To Chiba Mamoru, life was perfect. He had a best friend and he even had a dream girl…of sort. So yeah, life was perfect just the way it was. Everyone else was unimportant, unnecessary, unneeded.

Everyone.

Let us snort at the credibility of that statement before we read on shall we?

What a liar…because we knew for a fact, that there was this one girl…

Tendo Hikaru, with her red hair and gold eyes, didn't care much for being ignored. She figured if she fainted, Mamoru would at least try to see if she was alright. So, she did just that.

Within moments, Mamoru's arms were cradling the young woman. He frowned as he scanned the girl's pupils, looking for signs of shock. Finding nothing, he signalled to Motoki and carried the faint woman inside the employee's lounge. Neither boys noticed the wicked gleam in Hikaru's eyes as she sent her irate friends a triumphant look behind the 'Greek god's' back.

Poor child was delusional. She thought she finally had Mamoru trapped.

She could be forgiven, since anyone who gets to be cradled in those strong arms tended to have their thoughts scattered. Sailor Moon, lucky girl, goes to lala land daily when THOSE arms circled her.

But we are not here to discuss THAT blonde's love life…sort of.

The remaining five had there mouths gaping and closing in disbelief. The bitch had done it again. Taken the attention of the man of their dreams. Bitch. Slut. Stupid slut, stupid cow, stupi-

"Oi! Usagi-san! Regular?" Motoki's voice interrupted their silent insults to the poor bitch that was Hikaru.

Startled, the fan club turned collectively towards the girl that had just entered the scene.

…Not…bad.

Maybe a little naïve, slightly too girl-child, but still a knock out. And this one had naturally blonde hair. Golden strands caught up in the weirdest hairstyle ever. The blonde would have gladly explained why her hair was up like that. For one thing, left unbound, it was way too long. And heavy. That hair, compromised nearly half the girl's weight as opposed to the common belief that she was heavy due to excessive pigging out. Also, the blonde's father approved very much his little girl's hairstyle. No need to mention that it made the little twit younger looking than her fourteen years.

Tsukino Kenji, the dementedly protective father, would have asked Usagi to still wear diapers, if he thought he could get away with it…

And most important, Usagi wasn't vain about her hair. She just liked it that way. Long and bundled at the top in a cute buns so that the rest only fell almost to her knees…That way, she couldn't trip and klutz twice as she normally would if left unbounded.

Kione, the bottled blonde with her platinum locks, defensively donned a hat on her head.

They looked, amazed, as the girl sauntered - or hopped, to be precise - inside with out so much as a pause towards any of the young men who had stopped to look at her arrival. Feminine wiles must be foreign for this one, though how she managed that was unclear to the college girls. Certainly the blonde's mother gets enough ribbing on how her daughter must never have lived in a house with mirrors, so clueless she was with her appeal.

Pure.

Innocent.

Love of life.

Sunshine.

Trouble.

This was really too easy. If there was anyone who was all powerful and all seeing enough to see her entering, that being would have gleefully told the six girls ( and every female who still hoped against hope ) to pack up and leave.

Mortals, unfortunately, were telling the truth when they said love was blind. Or delusional. Pick your choice.

Personally, I happen to think it's blind. Mamuro-san certainly needed to have his eyes check, ya know? Even a baby would admit to the many similarities of, hmnnn… enough of that, 'kay?

Still, Meiko convinced herself she was not impressed. 'That one will never be queen bee.' This thought was shared by her so called friends collectively. "If she was in our age group, Hikaru-kun would have skinned her alived," Meiko stated. Everyone in her table bobbed their head in agreement.

The green eyed monster reared its head to stare and hiss.

All eyes followed the bouncing bundle in front of the counter and some chuckled at the sight. A few souls, bitter by life's trials, murmured how annoying she was. Their own hearts murmured back that they wouldn't mind staying for a little while…just till Usagi left and taking the sunshine away with her.

The five girls were filled with the cancer that jealousy and envy brought. It couldn't be helped. They were mortal.

Human.

Prone to doubt and self pity.

Not that the golden child doesn't have those. Her life was filled with life's sorry pathos and doubts and self pity, too. It just tended to disappear when she sees a butterfly, or hear a child's gurgle, or smell a whiff of vanilla, or taste some sweet concoction, or see some burst of color, or realize she skipped home yesterday, or remember some nonsensical poem, or…yeah.

You get the idea.

Angst filled this girl like bitter was the taste of sugar coated, caramel dipped, milk chocolate infused, honey doughnut.

Her life held no joy…

Death, who was to be her constant companion, almost blushed in shame. Because the dreaded entity had really tried its best to put some weights to lower the child's love of life. Serenity wasn't nearly as hard to crack. This Tsukino Usagi defied common sense. Even when she was sad, something inside her still found beauty in her pain.

Like it was said, her life holds no joy…

Stupid blonde. Makes you wonder what goes on in that mind of hers.

The original five girls in the booth nearest the exit decided to dismiss the new comer. She was too young to be competition, anyway. Gorgeous, as much a Greek goddess ( sniggers, "Oh, the irony." ) as the man they shadowed, but way, way, way too young. There was nothing in Chiba Mamoru's profile that was remotely implied the idea that he was a cradle snatcher.

What was that term? Oh yeah, famous last words, people. Famous last words…

Of course, he fought tooth and limb. Still was fighting. The word stubborn did not do justice when describing our prince. Denial oozed from him along with his sex appeal.

Dratted man.

Besides, it was Hikaru whom they had to worry about. She was probably digging her claws at Mamoru-kun. She was to be dealt with first.

Collectively they stood, like the drones that they were and marched on to the back room.

The blonde, caught up in her animated story telling of the fluffy clouds outside, gave them a curious glance, but pretty much ignored them as well. One of the girls, Yuri, was tempted to listen. Languidness had come over her when she got near the bit of fluff that was happily slurping a very large triple chocolate shake.

Then it registered to her the unfairness of it all.

At the same age, Yuri had to starved herself to stay thin. The blonde was just starting to ask if she could have three slices of cheesecake as well. The nerve! How dare she eat that food and look like that. Yuki hurriedly joined her four friends scowling at the injustice.

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They found the witch Hikaru staring daggers at Mamoru. For his part, the gorgeous man was currently asking in a very impersonal and unaffected voice, Hikaru's diet of late. Was she stressed? Was she recently subjected to fatigue? Those sort of doctor talk. Shop talk, so to speak.

Too bad this was being done while Hikaru's top was open and her bra and generous curves free for his viewing pleasure. He himself had freed her from the confines of her blouse. In a cold voice, sterile and polite, he informed the 'patient' that she probably fainted because she couldn't breathe due to the tightness of the little black number she called clothes.

Let us sweat drop at the boy's stoic demeanour.

The boy was hopeless…Gorgeous, rich, smart ( a genius ), single, and hopeless. It was almost enough to make all six give up at last.

Key word: almost.

Because no one in their right mind would ever give up on Mamuro. No one. Queen Beryl certainly refused to give up the memory of the dashing Prince Endymion. And Fiore, who was a man, seemed to have his own agenda. A few queen, and even Mamoru's own flesh and blood –she of the pink hair and weird pink eyes- was deadly serious in snatching him all the way to the altar.

But these are stories for another time. Our concern is the now unfurling story in this timeline. And how easy it is to sour a fairytale that was supposed to be the most romantic story ever. Some people refuse to mind their own business…

Back to the story. Are you able to catch up?

Right? Here we go then.

None of the six girls knew of a particular blonde who would have screamed her lungs out to convince them otherwise that Mamuro Baka was anything but romance material. At fourteen, Usagi was at disadvantage due to inexperience, but when it came to the object of their desire, the little girl had tons of stories that would convince anyone who cared to listen that the Baka was a worthless sonofabXXXX.

Stories to make anyone's skin crawl.

Highly embellished with very pointed exaggerations but so long it gets the job done, Usagi figured it was alright. Baka Buta was so going down…

And of course our beloved blonde came in.

As if that was ever a question.

Curious little tyke, ain't she? She's one of those people who couldn't stop minding other people's business. But it's a good thing, cuz otherwise, those youmas would be doing some funky Irish jig with the demented queen I afore mentioned a few phrases back. Getting side tracked again. Hmnnn…

So there it was. For the first time ever, the six girls of Azuba Universities saw a Mamuro everyone knew DOES NOT exist. If any of those clueless college girls have bothered to ask Motoki, they would have learned this Mamuro existed in the arcade at a daily basis. Or in some corner street. Or in front of some place where shoes and test papers struck him.

Like flames to a moth. Or a sailor to a siren's song. Or a tuxedo masked man to a girl in some extremely short sailor fuku.

It was Destiny at work, after all.

"Shimata! Pervert!" Her pigtails flying, the blonde hastily went to button up Hikaru, much to the red head's annoyance. "I don't believe how deprave you can get!"

Kione, Tomoe, and Hatsumomo almost fainted at the upperclassman's reaction.

Chiba Mamuro's face, always the epitome of collected suaveness and calm, was redder than a red dyed tomato. Even his neck, visible since for once he was not wearing those sexy black turtle necks, was really red.

Who'd have thunk?

The hottest man in campus was capable of blushing. Not just the rosy glow in the cheeks blushing, but the murderous flush of a psychotic maniac. And his hands were clenching and unclenching in a way that made them held their neck protectively.

Hikaru herself, her position being near the object of Mamuro's killer stare, felt a frizzle of compassion for the poor girl. The love of her life was out for murder. And the victim was the hapless child who was giving Mamuro her own death glares.

The next words shocked black haired Toro to next week.

"Odango-Atama! Quit you're screaming and get your mind off the gutter, you blonde ditz!" Midnight blue eyes flashed as Mamoru mentally continued digging some burial place for the idiot in front of him. "WHAT EVER IT IS YOU ARE IMPLYING, STOP! Because, I am not as sick as you are to take advantage of someone who needed medical help."

Read that again, and you will realize that somehow, what was said has absolutely no sense.

Chiba Mamoru was roaring at the top of his lungs. There was not a single ounce of coolness in the man who was like a perfect ice sculpture every hour of the day.

The Odango girl shrieked like there was no tomorrow. "I don't believe this! YOU! You have a half naked girl here and you still insist on calling me that! My name is USAGI!" Her hands hand stopped trying to button up Hikaru. The young woman lay forgotten as the two combatants stared each other down. Hikaru herself was curious. Swooning girl, almost half naked versus the importance of calling another girl by her real name.

Was there even a contest?

Yet for some reason, the two blue eyed people inside that small space seemed to find the name calling more important than a maybe sick college girl…

The world had narrowed and only they were in it.

Adam and Eve.

Except the serpent wasn't even allowed in this story; whether Usagi and Mamoru want to admit it or not, neither want to share each other to anyone.

It's really quite sad…but in a somewhat twisted romantic way.

"USAGI ATAMA! No, wait, USAGI ODANGO ATAMA! How is that?" Mamuro had leaned his body in the counter behind him. His face was back to its normal tan, but the smirk on his lips, as well as the glint in the normally humorless eyes, was a foreign thing for the other females in the room. His legs were crossed casually as he was stood, both hands locked behind his back.

Usagi was well acquainted with it the smirk and the glint. As for the posture, it simply meant she have lost the element of surprise. Baka Buta was in for the kill. So she could not be blamed if she more or else predicted what would come next. "Don't you there go there, you BAKA!!!!"

Scripted.

Destiny had schemed and planned for the most romantic meeting ever. Destiny never counted on Mamuro's dislike to be herded to a future he never planned himself. Certainly, Destiny never predicted that their heroine, who fell in love with any gorgeous hunk who gave her the time of day, would develop an actual allergy at the mere mention of Mamuro's name.

It boggles the mind. I swear to god. Or goddess. Or whoever held enough power to gleefully plot mortals pitifully boring lives.

Now, even Destiny refused to touch the script it had written, because it was obviously cursed. Nothing had gone according to plan. Three thousand years of careful planning; all of it went to smoke.

Serenity and Endymion, they of the soul bound love, were ready to kill each other –

Trust me, Usagi had been having dangerous thoughts of late

- every time they met. Destiny just couldn't figure out HOW THAT HAPPENED. No one, not even the mythical heroes of old, ever got away from Destiny's grip. Yet the two teen agers slipped from the noose so easily.

Six girls looked uneasily at each other. Baka? Mamoru? How did she even find the courage? Was she blind? The man is a living breathing sex god!

Mamoru was ready, swords bared and battle cry bursting from him. In a silky voice, he more or else confirmed Usagi's prediction of what he was about to say next. "Eh, Odango, failed any test today? In fact, failed a test, or two, today?"

This was no.3. Number four is up next (Those who writes fan fiction are well aware of the scripted fight sequence), except, well, Mamoru isn't such a stick in the mud when it came to routine that every one claims him to be.

He clicked his tongue in a mocking parody of a man who cared and said, "Jealous?"

This was not part of their script. The Baka was getting new inspiration and had decided to use it.

Interesting…

Destiny from her position in the corner saw Love glaring at the script and ripping it to shreds. In minutes, scroll in hand, Love was scribbling furiously, empowered by the emotions being emitted by our hero.

Usagi started choking so badly, even Mamuro was forced to pat her back. "GAHHHH! Are you insane? You couldn't pay me a million dollars, and all the milk chocolate in the world to stay in a room with you and like it!"

Mamuro's eyes flickered with something akin to pain before it was infused with cold anger. "I bet that wouldn't stop you from stuffing yourself with the chocolate, eh, Odango?"

His nemesis gave one final shriek before counting in a small puffy voice. When she got to seventy six, she turned her pleading eyes to Hikaru and with a sincere voice asked if she was well enough. "We can leave now, yes?" she asked hopefully. "I'm sure you're dying to get out of this-" Usagi pointed a trembling finger at the six girls' dark brooding prince "-jerk wad!"

Jerk wad!? MAMURO IS ACTUALLY BEING CALLED A JERK WAD BY A MEMBER OF THE FEMALE SPECIES!

Kione was rendered speechless.

Toro herself was still unsure how this came about.

It was Hikaru, with her conniving mind who spoke next. "Anou, but, why did you call him that?"

"What?" The blonde's face was a mixture of disgust and revulsion as she gazed at Mamuro. "Too tame?"

Too tame? IS SHE INSANE?!

Motoki saved the day…Or not.

Blondes! Sheesh…his intentions were good, too bad he came there not fully prepared of the consequence.

Kione, forgetting the fact that she was of the drug store variety, decided to add her blondeness in the pot as well. "Motoki-kun, this little brat is insulting your friend. Get her out before my dear China-san gets a head ache dealing with her, ne?"

Motoki frowned, and as clueless as Kione, offered his head for the axe. The tall man stomped towards Usagi AND placed his arms protectively around 'the brat'. "Usagi is a special person here. She happens to be a favorite customer, so I would appreciate it if you be nice to this girl."

Usagi saw hearts, with Motoki's strong arm holding her protectively.

Mamoru saw bloody murder, with Motoki's arm holding Usagi protectively.

Motoki saw the heart in the eyes, then the murder in the eyes, and wondered how he found himself in this situation, with his arms holding the girl protectively.

The six audience in the room would have told him how, except they were busy nursing their broken hearts. Delusional they may be, but all six could not claim to being deaf. Not when the ever suave Mamuro started sputtering, "Moto-Motoki—Baka!...What are you---hentai!---GET. YOUR. –err. Mine! SHE IS MINE!---get your hands! ARGHHHHHHHH!"

Love would have told, and jealousy, and envy, but they were busy adding details to the new script. Destiny would simply have sniffed and said, "Ah fuck it."

Cruel Destiny…

The next day, all the students in Azuba University gave Mamuro a wide berth, and word of mouth was passed that if you wanted to live longer than your early twenties, make sure never to look at a certain blonde-haired junior high girl the wrong way. In fact, best not to look at her at all.

If you are sceptical, look for Motoki with his broken nose and his remorseful best friend that insisted still that it wasn't jealousy that made Mamoru's fist slip towards Motoki's face.

Mamoru himself would have sworn to the river spynx. No. NO, he, the cold, unfeeling Chiba Mamoru, never said anything about Odango being his. Motoki must have imagined that one, after he got knocked down by Mamuro. Please be serious. That twit? What would I possibly like about her? Yadah, yadah, ba blah blah blah blah…

Now comes the 'real' beginning of our story. First part was only prologue, after all.

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Somewhere, anywhere, Love felt a stirring deep within, and Destiny heard the melody of an old locket. The red strings of Love and Destiny appeared on the non existing script and zeroed in on our leading actors. It hovered, a bit confused, to see thousands of red strings all ready creating an intricate web around Mamuro and Usagi. There it was, strings pulsing so brightly, entwining around them until they were almost smothered with it. The new string hovered some more before it decided to reinforce the web. It could be broken, after all

Love was adamant in her role as script writer. So just to be safe, She decided she needed a director to make the job flow smoother. Without much ado Love called forth her greatest ally…

As the scroll was filled with the ghostly writings of Love's wicked hand, somewhere far away, where no mortals tread, a portal opened for one of Love's physical forms…

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A/N: expect regular updates every five days. Muah! Also, I am drawing/painting again, so check my profile for updates for my latest fan art.