Title: Overture
Author: Amarylis Cemetery
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: All Sailormoon characters belong to Takeuchi Naoko and Toei, etc.; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Fandom: Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon
Pairing(s): Usagi/Mamoru
Word count: 1535
Feedback: Would be lovely. But I'm not going to hunt you down if you don't.
Summary: AU, U/M Aware of her status but not of her past, Usagi struggles against the Dark Kingdom, unwilling to allow the senshi into her heart. Will she succeed on her own, or will she be forced to accept their help - and their friendship?
Notes: Beta-ed by Nell. This is loosely based off of the plot of Princess Plan by Neonlights, though it will have a quite different path. I really liked the summary plot of it, but I wanted to try my own hand. So, I hope I don't completely embarrass Neonlights with this, and I hope any readers out there will like it. I have not yet decided if this will only cover the first season, or if I'll include any of the others. Please keep in mind that this is based off of the manga, rather than the anime, thus Sailormoon's uniform, which was in the first volumes of the series. The very first attacks have been kept for all of the senshi, and if you have any questions on the attack names, feel free to ask.

Chapter One:
Senshi

The city lights burned her eyes, bright against the inky blackness of the night. She replaced the white mask over her eyes, smiling slightly as she fixed it on her face.

The bun covers on her hair twitched, sending a cry of help into her ears as they vibrated from the volume. Through the mask's eyes, she saw a young couple huddled in an alley corner. She glanced around the scene, looking for landmarks so she could locate where the victims were. Unable to find any, and the urgency that had settled in her limbs increasing, she leapt off of the building top, instead trusting her instincts to lead her to them.

She cursed, watching through one eye as the man threw himself over the woman to take the hit, and searching for them through the other. She skidded to a stop as she caught sight of the youma whose arm reach back to strike again. Quickly and silently, she whipped off her tiara and powered it up into a sharp, spinning disk, launching it towards the monster as the blow fell across the woman's face.

The youma went flying into the wall, the bricks behind it crunching from the impact. She remained mute as she called the tiara to her hand, shoving it back onto her forehead. Her fingers touched the edges of the gem in the center, pressing onto it so hard that grooves dug into her gloved hand. A bright, blinding flash erupted from the jewel, causing the youma to shriek in pain as it's eyes became black, burned by the purity of the light.

Behind her, she could hear sobbing and moaning, glancing back to see the man clutching at his wounded shoulder. Ignoring them both for the moment, she powered up her tiara again, and flung it at the youma's throat. It was on its feet and slashed at her arm right as her attack connected. With a dying scream, the monster was decapitated, the remains dissolving into finely powdered dust that was absorbed into the ground.

The masked soldier finally turned to the victims, and pulled out a short stick that had a crescent moon stuck to the top of it. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly, and pointed the wand at the couple. Silver light shot out from the suddenly glowing moon, and the glow surrounded the lesions on both people, painlessly mending the torn skin and muscles. The wounds disappeared as though they'd never been made, and she smiled at them, wand vanishing into nowhere.

"You two should be fine now," she spoke softly, for the first time that night. "I would still recommend getting checked out, though," she amended, "in case I missed something."

The woman stared up at her, brown eyes grateful and in awe as she clutched at the man next to her. "Who are you?" asked the brunette imploringly. "I want to thank you, for all you've done."

She just continued smiling. With a thoughtful expression on her face, the soldier replied, "Just call me Sailormoon." The smile turned into an amused grin. "Funny name, isn't it?"

"Thank you, Sailormoon." The woman beamed gratefully. Sailormoon shook her head.

"I'm glad you're safe," she responded, and turned on her heel, jumping high and up onto a roof across the street. She bounded off, short silver cape billowing behind her in the wind.

Collapsing onto her bed, Sailormoon let out a tired sigh. She lifted her head to look at the still open window that she'd used to enter the room, and frowned. "I could get up and close it," she said to herself, "or I could go to sleep and freeze." As if to reinforce her observation, a particularly cold gust of wind blew into her room and she shivered.

"Fine, fine," she muttered, getting back onto her feet. She trudged over to the window and shut it quietly, hesitating as she stared out the glass. The moon was bright in the winter months; her mother told her it was because there wasn't much humidity. The soft beams fell on her skin, and she felt it warm, though she was aware that moonshine wasn't warm at all. Ever since she became Sailormoon, her satellite provided her with more comfort than it had previously. While she'd always felt an affinity towards the celestial object, it was only recently that the connection between the moon and herself became stronger.

She smiled at the moon as it hung in the midnight sky, and could almost swear she felt it smile back. Instead of thinking on it, she turned back to the bed. Her right hand grasped the brooch that laid on the bust of her armor, and she felt the outfit disappear from her form, melting into her school uniform.

Standing in front of her mirror, she stared at herself for a moment, as though looking for some change in her appearance. The same face stared back at her, with the same height and figure it had always seemed to be. The only difference she was able to discern was an increase in the length of her long, blonde hair, that had previously hung around her waist. With a frown, she noticed how it seemed to brush on the back of her knees now, and gave it an annoyed look.

She'd cut it tomorrow, she decided, casting her long looks a critical gaze and scowling. If it got any longer, she'd probably end up tripping over it on her way to school or, with her kind of luck, during battle.

With a shock - shoot, she had school tomorrow - she looked over to her clock, which cheerfully told her that the current time was nearing two in the morning in blinking, red numbers. She cursed, and quickly shed her clothes, replaced them with pajamas, and jumped into bed. Flicking off the lamp on the bedside table, she turned on her alarm, and settled into bed.

Exhaustion flooded her body, the last remnants of adrenaline gone, and her eyes closed heavily.

Almost as soon as she'd fallen asleep, an incessant beeping filled her ears, and she groaned, turning away from the noise. That didn't help much, so she pulled the pillow from under her head and slammed it on top of her head. The beeping muffled, she began to drift back into sleep. Vaguely, she wondered why it was that her alarm was going off.

She shot up out of bed, eyes wide as she remembered school. She swore, shut off the alarm, and glanced at the red numbers that didn't glow as much in the morning sun as they had at night. With a sigh of relief, she realized that she had a good half-hour to run off for school. Rather, school started in a half hour, so she got out of bed and pulled out a clean uniform, mentally reminding herself to clean the one from the previous day once she got home.

She hissed in pain as the wound from the youma, forgotten the night before, reminded her of its presence harshly. She clapped a hand to it and winced, heading to the connecting bathroom to bandage it.

After she was done with her hair (and resisted the urge to trim it right then and there) and all her other bathroom activities, she bounded down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

Her mother stood at the stove, eggs frying in a large, black pan, and she smiled at her daughter, brushing her blue hair from her eyes. "Good morning, Usagi," she greeted, and Usagi smiled back.

"Morning, Mama," Usagi returned. Her father looked up from his seat at the dining room table and through the open entry way to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Usagi," he said, before taking a bite of his rice. "You're up early." Usagi laughed.

"Earlier than normal," she corrected for him. "Morning, Papa," she added belatedly. Her mother moved to place Usagi's food on the table, but she just shook her head and took it from the blue-haired woman's grasp. "I have to speed eat," she explained at her mother's curious look, and she nodded to her daughter in understanding. Instead of sitting at the table, she remained standing and just shoved the food in her mouth, swallowed, and put the dishes near the sink.

Usagi grabbed her lunch off of the counter, thanking her mother for it as she headed towards the door. She pushed the food box into her bag and put on her shoes.

"I'm leaving," she called, just as she was slipping out the door.

"Have a good day, and be safe!" her mother called back, and Usagi smiled as she shut the door.

"A bit late for that, isn't it?" Usagi responded quietly, amused. She shook her head, and took off down the sidewalk. A cursory glance at her watch told her she had ten minutes to get to school, and she deduced that she didn't have the time to take the bus, so she'd be stuck running, again. She mentally sighed, and just decided that this would at least help her stay in shape for fighting youma. Sort of, anyway.