15 years earlier

It was snowing again.

Thick white flakes dropped from the sky and seemed to blot out the meager light from the day. Pillows of white were emerging on the windowsills and across the tops of the open shutters on the windows.

The cityscape of Tokyo didn't look quite right, even if snow was a regular occurrence in the winters of Japan.

From far away, the excited cries of children managed to leak into the near-empty room. Unaffected, the lone child watching the snowfall resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Alone again, Chiba-chan?"

Bright blue eyes turned at the sound of the familiar voice. As per usual, the child didn't respond to the obvious attempts by the caretaker to get him to speak.

Moriya Yuki, the caretaker at the Aiba Orphanage for several years, tried not to roll her eyes. She had been hired on at the orphanage not too long after the boy in front of her, Chiba Mamoru, had come into their keeping. Yuki had no extensive knowledge about what had orphaned the boy, nor what had caused his self-induced silence.

What she had been told was that the police had brought the boy to the home, unsure of his name, age, or any information regarding the whereabouts of his parents. Mamoru knew only his first name, and was clutching a worn photography that he refused to relinquish even as the doctor of the orphanage evaluated his health.

His surname had been adopted by means of a donor, one who had wanted to adopt Mamoru at the age of three. However, the child's solemn refusal to speak and often-violent temper had resulted in withdrawal of the donor's offer of adoption.

Likewise, the child hadn't need a donor. His parents had carefully managed to make sure their son would never require financial assistance for the rest of his life. Regardless, the donor refused to abandon support of the child, so Mamoru's inheritance was carefully safeguarded until the day he would leave the orphanage.

Inquisitive blue eyes broke Yuki out of her reverie.

"Would you like to go outside and play in the snow, Mamoru-chan? The other children would love to have you help them build a snowman in the front yard." Yuki never knew if he would be interested in her proposal or not. She figured it was worth the attempt to get Mamoru to play with the other orphans.

Yuki was surprised when the normally antisocial boy nodded his approval. She watched as he pulled on his boots and cap, then struggled with a scarf. Yuki helped him with his jacket and the child bounded out the door. She didn't move from her spot by the window until she heard the familiar sound of the back door snapping shut.

Outside, Mamoru was sitting under a snow-capped tree, watching the other children play in the still falling snow.

Soon the boy was bored watching them play so innocently, as though they had never suffered the burden of loneliness. As Mamoru stood and started an aimless walk along the outskirts of the yard, he wondered what it would feel like to lack the pangs of loneliness he felt on a regular basis. What would it feel like to have even a memory of your parents? All of his life, his parents were nothing more than shadow upon shadow – less family than figments of his imagination.

The other children could never understand the caliber of isolation their playmate endured. While most could answer questions about their parents to a minimal degree; Mamoru didn't even know their names. He couldn't tell another orphan what had happened to him because he himself didn't even know.

So he struggled to find common ground. Mamoru wasn't shocked when he felt a blast of cold snow hit the back of his neck. Then another on the shoulder of his jacket as well. Not playful, but hard-packed balls of ice from yesterday's snowstorm were frequently targeted at him.

Another hit close to Mamoru's chin.

The ebony-haired child ran from his aggressors, deep into the park behind the small orphanage by means of a gate. Though the ice had stopped, the thick snowfall had not. It continued to pour down and blur the familiar landscape of the park into obscure shapes.

The boy was alone.

Then, before him a man stretched his hand out to the small child. "Are you lost, little boy?"

The aforementioned child shook his head. Though the man's eyes were kind, he seemed sinister in demeanor. The hand he held out was still in limbo, waiting.

Mamoru shook his head again.

The snowfall picked up with the wind, and the stranger's face was obscured by the flurry of white. However, even among the blurs of white, the reds of his irises were vibrant. They were eyes made of the most beautiful green-blue. Bright and clear, but with red bleeding into the color…almost surreal to the child.

"Let me help you boy," spoke the stranger again. Despite the storm his voice was clear as day. At the words, Mamoru started to feel dizzy, almost swaying. He put a hand to his forehead as though to steady himself, but it didn't help.

The child felt hot breath on his neck and shuddered in revulsion. For the first time, he felt both hopeless and compelled to speak. All he could manage was a faint moan of protest. His lips couldn't even form the beginnings of a "no".

And then, in a moment of pain and rapturous pleasure, the stranger sunk needlelike fangs into his neck. Mamoru struggled as best he could. It wasn't enough.

So he did the next best thing; struggling to overcome the forced compulsion strangling his mind:

Mamoru screamed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A child's scream pierced through the quiet snowfall.

Yuki, who was dusting off a child after another snowball fight, stood and started to count the orphans in the yard. Shoot, she thought, where is Mamoru-chan?

The little girl Yuki had been dusting off tugged at the hem of her caregiver's jacket. Blinking in surprise, Yuki bent down to eye level with the little girl. "What is it Keiko-chan? Do you know where Mamoru-chan is?"

Keiko nodded, her little black pigtails moving up and down with the bobbing of her head. "Hai, Moriya-sensei." The child took her teacher's hand and started to pull in the direction Mamoru had gone.

They reached the bushes where the boy had been observing his peers, and he wasn't there. Yuki started searching around the area for any sign that Mamoru might be still hiding. She had been looking for a couple of minutes when there was another tug at her coat. "What is it, Keiko-chan?"

The little girl didn't reply, so Yuki turned to her companion, saying, "What is it Ke-"

She fell silent as she followed the pointed finger of her charge to the gate. Against the blur of the white, there was Mamoru in his jacket and heavy winter clothes. His eyes were bluer, blank as if looking past them. And, one entire side of his neck was bloodied and still obviously bleeding.

The caregiver couldn't help herself and ran to check on the boy. "You're bleeding," she remarked as she pulled down the side of his collar to check the wound. "What happened, Mamoru?"

No response. The child just continued to stare past her and Keiko, who was horrified at the sight of all that blood. "Keiko," said Yuki, snapping the girl out of her stunned silence, "I need you to go back to the house and get Nori-sensei to call the hospital. Got that?"

The little girl nodded a yes, then ran off toward the orphanage.

Yuki adjusted her position in the snow, kneeling before the child. "Mamoru, you need to tell me what happened. I have to know what happened so the police can catch the person who hurt you."

He just shook his head.

Yuki lightly shook her charge. "I know it must have been scary, but you need to tell me what the person looks like that did this."

"If you insist," came a voice from behind the kneeling woman, "it was me."

The last sound Yuki heard was the whisper of wind and the sound of her own blood gurgling from her throat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- -

Notes: In this prologue, Mamoru is five and Usagi hasn't even been born yet. Or is she…? I haven't decided how I want their age gap to work out quite yet. Anyway, how will Mamoru's "condition" affect his role as Tuxedo Kamen? His desire to find the Ginzuishou?

Please review, and the next chapter will be up soon!