Alright people! Wow, here's the re-written version of chapter one! I hope that I've eradicated all of the grammatical errors, thanks to the wonderful beta-ing of StarryNight101 (check out her stories; they're great). And I'm sorry this took so long! I've been in a writing depression! But this chapter is replacing chapter one, but the other three crappy chapters are going to remain up until I can replace them as well. I'm not fond of them, so I don't recommend that you read them after reading this. There's almost a completely different plot-twist to this one than the old one, so I'll try and get chapter two revised as soon as possible. Here's the standard 'I don't own Sailor Moon,' and just one more anouncement. Since this chapter is only being replaced, it's not going to show up as having been updated, so until I post chapter five, if you want to figure out if there's been a new revised chapter I put it in the author's notes of my drabbles: Bottom of the Barrel, and it's pretty big and bold so it'll be pretty hard to miss.

Just to say, Kyuubei Sadao and his Grandpa is going to be the only OC in this story, and he is there for a purpose. Normally, I don't like when a random OC
is just inserted for no reason, but this one has a reason and will be here for a majority of the story!

Summary: When Mamoru surprisingly finds the Silver Crystal, he'll do anything to get his hands on it to protect it. But when the price is to match up some bratty kid with Tsukino Usagi, will he be able to go through with it when feelings start to get in the way?

Title: Standing Aside
Rating: T, due to language, and most likely
only language.
First Season Usagi/Mamoru
Romance/Humor

Well, that's all I really have to say for now.

Please Review, and enjoy (But no flames, only constructive criticism. I don't want to go THERE again...).


Standing Aside

Chapter 1: Bargains

by sakanscales876


"Personally, I think that it's in the detergent," Motoki explained as he scrubbed mercilessly at the tiny spot. "I just hate it when they expect me to-"

"No one expects anything from you; your dad owns this place," Mamoru muttered neutrally, not lifting his eyes from his textbook. "And you're going to put a hole in the counter if you keep rubbing all that crap on it."

Motoki blinked, switching the towel in his hand to only one finger. "What's wrong with this stuff?"

"It's a corrosive cleaning product."

"…So?"

Mamoru plucked off his glasses and raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "Corrosive means that it will burn you."

"How can you tell this stuff's cardio—-sal…ive?" Motoki frowned, trying to recall the word Mamoru had just used. His eyes slid out of focus and into deep thought, scanning through his brain's file cabinets for his science vocab. The distinctive sound of a finger snapping at him bounced off his ears, and Motoki, irritated and confused, glared at his companion.

"First, it's corrosive; that's Junior High stuff, man. You're in med-school, too, right? Second, I don't know that it's corrosive, but it's got a pretty potent smell like ammonia," Mamoru stated, the corners of his lips twitching only a millimeter.

Motoki scoffed, ringing out the towel over the nearest sink and resolutely scrubbing at the tiny fleck of what looked like caked up mustard that had plagued him for so long. "Oh, well ammonia can't burn through anything."

"True," Mamoru began. "But if you mixed that stuff with bleach then you'll have single-handedly created a poisonous gas."

Motoki dropped the towel onto the counter, an 'I-should-have-known' look forming on his face.

Mamoru smirked, turning back to his book and folding in his page for later. "Let me guess; you mixed it."

"Why must your science ruin everything for me?"

"Did you?"

Motoki faltered. "Yup."

Mamoru made a real show of closing up his textbooks, callously dropping them into his bag to give Motoki the impression that he was irritated. His only friend jumped as Mamoru's large hands palmed the table, making him wince at his own hostility. "What are you just standing there for, idiot? Get rid of it!"

Motoki flinched away from him and ducked into the back room, leaving a mocking spot and a somewhat remorseful Mamoru behind. He frowned; one of these days even Motoki wouldn't be willing to put up with his crap anymore.

That thought alone made him nervous.

He heaved a sigh and slumped over onto the counter, clenching his coffee tightly in his fist. At the moment, he didn't want to think. Exams were coming up, homework was not lessening in the least, and not even the usual comfort of coffee could at least stabilize all the thoughts in his head. Now he knew how the Odango was such a train-wreck. Wait, he thought, she'd have to have a brain for that. With an arrogant smirk, he relished the feel of the warm beverage sliding smoothly down his throat.

It was so comforting; it almost made him want to ignore the splash against his face. And the burning. Following that was the cursing…then the anger. He reached up brusquely brushed the burning liquid from the region around his eyes, taking a full minute to allow his bleary vision to focus on Motoki.

"Oh my God, Mamoru-kun! I'm so sorry! The bucket was heavy and it swayed and then it just-just fell right into your face!" Motoki stuttered, staring intently at the strong smelling bucket at their feet.

"Really?" Mamoru hissed. "I hadn't noticed!" The area now reeked of ammonia and bleach, and the smell was starting to make him light-headed.

"It's fine; I'm fine!" Mamoru growled, covering his eyes as Motoki tried vainly to hand Mamoru a towel.

Motoki searched his face, concerned. "Are you sure?"

Mamoru leaned on the counter for support, his arms tensely gripping the edge as if to lessen the amount of chemical seeping into his skin. "Just clean this stuff up, Motoki, before your customers start keeling over from the smell!"

He didn't wait for Motoki's dutiful nod, or see his expression of guilt as the clerk jogged into the kitchen for a mop. Swiping the clean towel that Motoki had tossed hastily onto the counter, he managed to get as much of the sting out of his eyes as he could. The smell alone was really starting to get to him, making him a bit nauseous.

Within less than a minute, Motoki was back once more, hopping toward him on one foot as the other pushed a wheeled-bucket of mop water over to the spill. Clumsily, he soaked the entire area with water, swabbing the linoleum with a vengeance.

Mamoru watched his friend with slight amusement, though the distinct burning of the cleaning chemicals on his face and neck left him in a sour mood. Motoki seemed to sense this, for he looked up a bit sheepishly.

"Are you okay?"

"As long as that bucket of mop water isn't filled with any sulfuric acid," Mamoru said, eyeing the water distrustfully.

Motoki followed his eyes and gave out a strained laugh. "Nah, I was saving that stuff for your coffee one day."

Mamoru rolled his eyes and busied himself with gathering his stuff. Usually he would've taken his time to neatly put back all his papers and books in their organized positions, but his skin was really starting to agitate him. He slung the bag over his shoulder, reaching into one of the front pouches and tossing some money onto the counter.

"You're leaving?" Motoki asked, pausing his mopping to stare at Mamoru.

Said college student took one last swig of his coffee before turning to face his friend. "I need a shower, man. I can't walk around smelling like bleach."

Motoki seemed to blush at his own stupidity as he stared at Mamoru's retreating back, barely managing a choked, "Goodbye" as the automatic doors whooshed a current of fresh air around before closing once more.


The cumulous clouds swiveled gracefully through the sky, the inky grays and blacks shadowing the early morning sun. Personally, Mamoru was glad that it hadn't yet peeked beyond the clouds; it would dry his torso within minutes and then it would take weeks to get his favorite jacket to stop smelling so horribly. His feet were moving of their own accord, taking him down the familiar streets that would eventually lead him to his apartment, thank the gods.

Though he desperately craved a shower, he had at least another three hours before his class began, leaving him with a little extra time to wander through the streets of Tokyo. He didn't leave his route, but he did, however, begin to notice some shops and buildings that he had never stopped to recognize before. The current area he was in seemed to be littered with trinket stores, selling paper fans, T-shirts, and even key-chains as far as the eye could see. His eyes fell particularly on an outspoken little boy who was having an absolute fit about some kind of stuffed toy with his exasperated mother, who was adamantly refusing him.

His feet stopped moving.

It was more like a jerk actually, like there was some invisible force of wind that pushed him back. Confused, Mamoru began to whip his head around, looking for anything that might warrant suspicion. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, but suddenly, his head seemed to turn to the left, practically bashing his face against a window.

"Jovial Jewelers," he read aloud. "In business since 1948, serving only the finest quality jewelry to meet your needs." Mamoru stared at the yellow-chipped letters distastefully. Certainly it was not the most clever slogan…or name. He squinted through the tinted glass to see inside, not all too disappointed when he only caught a brief outline of what was there: A few chairs in the corners, and a large display case that seemed to be glittering with jewelry; nothing special.

Scoffing, he took a step back. Why on Earth was his gut telling him that this shop was where he needed to be at the moment? Of course, the Dark Kingdom did blend in very well with the general public, turning their energy gatherings into elaborate marketing schemes. Perhaps this little jewelry store was being used for one of their operations. He shook his head; it didn't seem right at all.

"What are you eyeballing, boy?" a gruff, throaty voice called from behind him. Mamoru slowly turned around, shifting his gaze toward an elderly man who looked no older than seventy.

His hair was an ashy gray, though it only seemed to grow around the sides of his head wildly, giving him the look of a minor lunatic. And not to mention, it left a shiny bald spot at the top, with a matching unruly goatee at the tip of his chin. The man crossed his arms over his chest, leaving his cane to rest at his side. His eyes were narrowed, and for a moment, Mamoru tried to count the wrinkles that formed there, only to mentally slap himself. One: What was he thinking? And two: That's incredibly rude! It seemed like something that only the Odango would be stupid enough to do.

"I asked you a question."

Mamoru jolted back to reality and respectfully bowed at the elder, muttering, "I'm sorry sir, but I didn't quite catch what you said."

He thought his words were polite enough, and he certainly was not expecting to get bashed over the head with the old geezer's orthopedic shoe! "Listen kid, I'm sixty-six, so I'm allowed to be hard at hearing. You, however, need to go out and buy yourself a damn hearing aide if you can't even tell that I'm ready to beat the living pajamas out of you!"

Mamoru resisted the urge to laugh, and he also resisted the urge to punch the old man in the face. "And what exactly did I do to warrant such hostility?" he asked coolly, turning his piercing eyes down on the elder.

The shoe made contact with his face once again.

"Don't use your smart talk with me, boy! I have half a mind to call the cops on you!" the man growled, shaking the shoe threateningly at him.

"And on what basis do you have for calling the cops on me? If I'm correct, you're the one that came out here and started beating the shit out of me with your shoe." He tried to keep the malice out of his voice. If it wasn't for the fact that his skin was starting to burn again, he probably would have shoved one of his roses up the old man's ass by now.

Surprise, surprise; he got smacked with the shoe again.

"This is my store, you little hoodlum! And look, genius, there's a sign there that says specifically, 'No loitering'!"

The words were out of his mouth before he could think. "The sidewalk's public property; you have no right to kick me off."

While the man was angrily smacking the living hell out of Mamoru, he noticed something dangling around the man's slightly sagging neck. Then Mamoru saw it; a tiny, golden chain hanging down on old man's chest, resting at the top of his collared shirt. On the end was a jewel about the size of a walnut, gleaming rainbows even in the dull light. It was clear as a diamond, but Mamoru could feel an unexplainable energy radiating off of it.

Speechless and slightly angry, Mamoru could do nothing but stutter. "I-uh…" his eyes shifted from the necklace to the man's face.

The old man furrowed his bushy eyebrows for a moment. "What's the matter with you?"

Even though the tone was parading sarcasm, Mamoru ignored it. The silver glimmer of the necklace was much more important than anything that could've been said.

Irritated, the old man rolled his eyes, turning from Mamoru and making his way back over to the shop. "Quit loitering and scram, boy!" Shortly followed by, "Kids these days…"

Mamoru stood there in complete shock, and the minutes slowly ticked by as he gaped at the now empty sidewalk. This was why he had been brought here. He had finally found it.

Why on Earth did he want to kiss somebody now?

The Maboroshi no Ginzuishou


The drizzling rain was shaken from the sky, sprinkling the people below in tiny teardrops of water. A lone figure stood at the very top of Tokyo Tower, staring below at the people who slowly began to dissipate as every clock in the city struck midnight.

His cape billowed in the wind that swirled around him, black suit blending in with the black sky, the white half mask being the lone object that made him even slightly decipherable in the night. Suave as sin, he leapt from the tower, the hard impact of his feet landing on metal leaving nothing but a delicate clack from his shoes.

With agility, he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, into a less familiar part of Tokyo. Very few people were out on the sidewalk, he noted, which was a good thing for what he was about to do. Fewer witnesses meant less trouble, and trouble was the last thing he could afford at the moment.

Skidding to a stop, he slid down one of the fire escapes on the side of the targeted building, wincing as he lost a bit of control resulting in pain as his feet hit the ground. He was in an alley, the dim lights reflecting off the bricks, making everything appear slightly red. Poking his head out into the street, he glanced to see if there were any people about. Excitement bubbled within him as he noticed that he was indeed alone.

He darted up to the store; quickly taking out one of the pins he had acquired earlier and picked the lock. Slowly, he pushed the door open, reaching an arm in to still the bell tied to the ceiling in hopes to stop it from making any noise. Successful, he swiftly crossed the room to the display cases, pulling out a flashlight from his Sub-Space-Pocket. He clicked it once and shined it into the glass, the gems within dancing against the light.

But a different light flickered on, illuminating the entire store.

And the only thing Tuxedo Kamen heard was a shout, a shattering of glass, and the thump against the carpet that his body made as he hit the floor.


A brusque voice called to him as rough hands shook him awake. "Dude, wake up!" He heard a sigh of exasperation. "Come on, you pansy! Get up!"

Mamoru groaned and lifted a gloved hand to pinch the throbbing bridge of his nose. Glove. Soft. White. Silky. Glove…glove? He—He couldn't still be Tuxedo Kamen, could he? He frantically ran his hand over his face in search of his domino mask. Gone.

Shit. SHIT!

Popping open an eye, Mamoru came face to face with a boy in his early teens that was staring him in the face with angry, almond-shaped eyes. His shaggy brown hair fell past his eyebrows, though it was still well kept and clean, as well as his light red shirt and faded blue jeans. The boy was thin, yet built around the torso with slight muscle.

The boy snapped his fingers in front of Mamoru's face. "Yo, nuts-for-brains! I don't want to say this again: Get. Up."

His vision still blurry and unfocused, Mamoru stared back into the boy's eyes, which he was able to determine were drawn in a scowl. "Urr-hi."

"Finally learned how to talk, eh? Who wants a cookie?" The boy said with a scoff, gliding off of the shag carpet and offering a worn hand to Mamoru. He ignored the gesture and gave a smirk, pushing himself off the ground with only one hand supporting his weight. Unfortunately, the boy seemed unfazed.

Scowl still plastered on his face, the teen slowly walked backwards toward the counter, keeping his eyes trained on Mamoru. Unblinking, he opened the cash register and began sorting through the money.

Mamoru cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "What are you-"

"You've been out for about an hour," the boy interrupted, his tone monotonous.

Mamoru bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from scolding the kid about manners. "That wasn't what I was asking-"

"Uh, you broke into my store," the boy retorted. "Which means you don't get the right to start asking me all the questions." Shortly after he added, "Moron."

Mamoru raised his eyebrows, though not out of surprise. "You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, kid. And as you put it, I did break into your store, so don't think that I won't kill you if I need to."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, shrimp."

Mamoru frowned…usually he would never resort to such childish taunting. This boy was just a high caliber smart ass. Nothing he hadn't dealt with before. Why was he acting so strange?

The boy's pupils raised but his head did not. "If it really pains you to know, I was just making sure you hadn't stolen anything from the register." His tone struggled to stay calm, though Mamoru could obviously tell that the kid wanted to punch him in the face. "But the fact remains that you broke into my store; breaking and entering, sir."

"Then you'll have an assault charge on your ass for bashing that lamp over my head, genius," Mamoru said, nodding towards the broken glass that was scattered at his feet.

"That was self defense…and you're going to pay for that lamp."

Mamoru smirked. "Make me."

The boy faked a yawn and leant over the counter, regarding Mamoru with tired eyes. This situation was starting to wear on him as well. And the fact that their conversations were now going around in circles didn't help either. So far, he could deduce that this boy was at least intelligent, and uncommonly gifted with a quick wit that could rival his own. This boy also reeked of confidence, masses of arrogance, and enough common sense to realize that not everybody could bully him. Well, Mamoru wasn't everybody, darn it.

He was Mamoru, a superhero, a genius, etc. Nobody could surpass him, and no one could bring him down. Arrogant of him, but true. And it was these thoughts that made him draw the conclusion that this boy and he were exactly alike.

Damn. Irritated, he ran his gloved hand through his hair, further ruffling it and causing him to wince as he clumsily ran his fingers over the swollen bump that was now forming on his head.

"Hurts, huh? Good; you deserved it."

Mamoru raised his eyes to stare the boy down, suppressing a growl within his throat. "Who the hell taught you that it was okay to bash a stranger's face in with a lamp upon greeting?"

"'S not important," the boy grunted. "And you didn't exactly greet me rather warmly either, Mr. Thief."

"That's because you broke a lamp over my head, idiot!" shouted Mamoru, gesturing wildly at the broken glass on the floor.

The boy was unaffected; something that Mamoru thought was a bit strange. "Well gee, what would you have done if some pansy in a Tuxedo broke into your home at one in the morning?"

"I don't know. Maybe I would have called the police or something?"

"Oh?" the boy said, reaching for the phone. "So you're saying that I should call the cops on you?"

"No, you little brat, I-," Mamoru groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Lord, let the kid call the cops; it couldn't be any worse than dealing with this kid.

The boy smirked and leant his chin on tanned arms. "Convince me, Cape-Boy. All I want to know is why the hell you were in my Grandpa's store-"

"That's none of your damn business."

For once, the fierceness of Mamoru's voice caused the boy to flinch, but it was quickly covered up within a second. The boy feigned a yawn and began to leisurely make his way over to the phone. "I guess I'll just have to get the authorities," he rolled the word off his tongue, tapping his fingers against the cordless phone. "Involved. And how happy and surprised would they be when I tell them that I know the exact identity of Tokyo's own little vigilante-hero."

Mamoru froze as his mind went blank for a moment. So caught up in the prospect of finding the Ginzushou he had completely forgotten the possible consequences of being there. This kid…this smart-assed little kid knew who he was…and he'd be damned if he was going to let the brat blow the cover he'd been hiding so well for so long.

"If you tell, I swear to-"

"Mmm, now you're threatening me? Geez, when they list all your charges it may take a couple days, eh, Kamen?"

Mamoru clenched his teeth to prevent himself from shouting, or worse. "Listen kid. I don't have to tell you anything. What I'm doing here is strictly my business and mine alone. But do not misunderstand me; should you even think off telling anybody my identity I swear to you that you will never see the light of day again."

"Really, Kamen? I honestly didn't think that superheroes threatened innocent people. How disappointing…"

"Innocent my ass. You speak far too boldly to someone who could snap your spine like a twig."

The boy grimaced, but he didn't flinch in the slightest. "I'm not afraid of you-"

"When you say that it automatically means that you are."

"-Now tell me why you're here or I'll tell the world your little secret."

Mamoru bristled at this. "You just love being a Grade A asshole, don't you?"

"Sure do." The boy grinned cheekily. "It's all part of the job."

"Well, I need to be doing my job-,"

"Which I want to know what that is."

"I can't tell you." Mamoru was getting thoroughly exasperated. His remaining patience was dangling by a hang-nail, and he was almost hoping that it would soon wither away so he could just get out of there.

The boy laughed, and Mamoru found himself one step closer to considering punching the whelp's teeth clean out of his mouth.

"I've got a phone call to the cops right here and now that says you can."

His very insides clenched in anger. In his life, he had dealt with some pretty tough kids at his orphanage, but every time they ridiculed him he'd always been the one who knew how to retaliate appropriately. But never in his ten years there had he ever met anybody that could set him off this badly. Except for the Odango, but that wasn't really genuine anger either.

"Yeah? And I've got a dagger in my back pocket right here and now that says I can answer to whatever the hell I damn well please."

Instinctively, his fingers curled around the hem of his pocket. It was a lie; he left his dagger at home. But he did have an unlimited supply of steel-tipped roses.

The boy gave him a blank stare. "Then I'll just tell everybody that you're Tuxedo Kamen."

It was Mamoru's turn to smirk. "You don't know my name."

"I don't have to," the boy mocked. "There's a new invention these days called, 'Sketch Artists,' and it'd be pretty difficult to forget a face as ugly as yours."

"True, but there's a mechanism in the brain that will automatically make you forget my face the minute it's brought into question," Mamoru said with a smile, though his insides were boiling. He had no idea if the glamour actually worked like that, and he wasn't too keen on risking it either. He glared at the hideous green carpet, wanting to kick something, or more accurately, he wanted to kick the boy in the face.

The boy shrugged indifferently. "Then what've I got to lose? There's definitely evidence that somebody broke in here tonight, so someone's going to get caught…eventually." He reached for the phone and picked it up to listen for the dial tone before lifting his finger to dial.

But he didn't make it. In less than a second, the cordless phone was flung out of his hand and pinned to the wall beneath a thorny, velvety red rose that seemed to spark from the amount of energy that it had absorbed. Golden light circulated around it like tiny strands of lightning, frightening away any who dared to pry the now broken and useless phone from its final resting place.

The boy didn't even hide his gawk as he stared frightened at the older man who was glaring at him so contemptuously that he was positive tiny missiles were going to shoot out of Mamoru's eyes if he dared to move.

Mamoru lowered his outstretched arm and strode slowly over the counter, relishing in the fact that the boy was slowly backing away to the little door that would allow him to dart across the room. He wasn't quick enough, for in a matter of seconds, Mamoru was already slumped causally over the glass cases by the time the boy could even muster a weak glare.

"What the hell are you-"

"I told you not to call the police," Mamoru said simply. "But you've got some nice rings in here…"

"Cut the shit, Kamen! Just-just go away!" There was a quiver in the boy's voice.

Mamoru inwardly smirked. It seemed that it was he who had the upper hand now, and he was going to play it as long as he could as he tried to formulate a plan in his mind.

"Nah, I'm actually quite comfortable here. Tell me, do you accept Visa or MasterCard?"

"W-What do you want?" the boy uttered shakily, though his glower was fierce enough for Mamoru's distaste.

He smirked nonetheless. "Oh? So you've finally got an understanding of your position in all this, have you?"

"What. Do. You. Want?" the boy spat, deciding against adding, "Asshole."

"Listen," Mamoru said slowly. "One: You are not going to speak about this to anyone. And when I say anyone, I mean anyone. Two: If you reach for the phone again, I'm going to chop your hand off, as well as the arm connected to it, got that?"

He didn't wait for the boy's brittle nod to continue. "And three: There was an old man here earlier this morning, and around his neck was a necklace with a very large crystal/jewel on the end. I want-no, must have that necklace. I know he stormed back in here after smacking me with a friggin' shoe, so if you would be so kind as to tell me where he is now, I would appreciate it."

The boy's chin trembled as he seemed to be internally struggling with something. Probably not punching him in the face, Mamoru guessed, but his knuckles were turning white with anger, so he couldn't be too sure…

"What do you want with my Grandpa?" the boy said calmly, almost eerily in Mamoru's opinion.

Though he was surprised at the sudden change of attitude, he could feel that beneath his exterior, the boy was angry. Since he didn't want to be played and have the boy tell him that his Grandpa's in Bangladesh, he decided to play it nice. At least, as nice as Mamoru could be.

"I don't want anything except that necklace. I don't aspire to hurt your Grandfather, though I can easily see where you developed your lunacy now," Mamoru stated.

After a moment, the boy seemed to release a breath that Mamoru hadn't realized the kid was holding in, and his shoulders sagged back to what he supposed was their normal position: slumped.

"He can't help that," the boy muttered. "He's always been a temperamental guy."

Temperamental? Not quite the words he would have used to describe a crazy old man who'd beat the living shit out of him with a shoe.

Mamoru drummed his fingers on the glass. "Well, I need you to get that necklace from him for me or at least bring him here so I can talk to him. It's crucial you do this now."

The boy pursed his lips. "Are you kidding me? That man's been wearing that little gem ever since I can remember. He doesn't take it off. Ever. He doesn't even let me touch it. And even if he did, why on earth should I give it to you?"

Mamoru groaned. Really? Did this all really have to be so difficult? Who on Earth hated him today?

"Because, if I don't have that crystal, then a lot of people are going to die."

The boy scoffed. "I don't believe you."

Mamoru grasped the boy by the back of the neck, despite his vehement protests, and turned his head toward the wall where the phone had been pinned.

"I never said you had to believe me, but imagine that, except ten times worse happening to every single person on this Earth."

The boy said nothing, though he seemed to be considering the options. The time grew on to the point where even the ever patient Mamoru was starting to get annoyed.

"In other words, if my enemies get to him first, they'll just kill him. I want the necklace to protect it."

He could've sworn he heard the boy mutter, "I'd love to see them try to take her on…" but quickly dismissed the notion. After a few moments, the boy finally spoke. "I really can't help you. He'd never consider giving that necklace to a stranger."

"I'm not a complete stranger," Mamoru corrected. "I'm a superhero that's trying to save you."

The boy resolutely shook his head and walked around the counter and past Mamoru, locating a broom and passing it tom him. "I'm really sorry, but I can't do anything…now help me clean this up and then get out of here."

The boy knelt with a dustpan, and Mamoru sighed and turned to look at him. "Then could you at least let me talk to him? I might be able to strike up a deal?"

He was too close now to let this slip through his fingers! This was an even too incomprehensible for this kid, and if he had to take the Ginzushou by force, he would.

The boy scowled as they swept up the glass. "Nope. My Grandpa left early this afternoon to go to Europe. He's got a deal with this other jewelry guy who wants to open up a chain of stores with him."

Mamoru cocked an eyebrow. "He left you in charge?"

In an instant, he found himself face-to-face with a murderous looking teenager. "Who are you to say I'm not capable of taking care of this place while he's gone?"

Mamoru clicked his tongue. "I wasn't saying you aren't capable."

The boy didn't waver. "It sure as heck sounded like it."

"Didn't mean to sound offensive," Mamoru spoke lowly. "When's your Grandfather coming back?"

"Three weeks."

Crap. There was no way in hell that Mamoru was going to wait that long for the Ginzushou, now that he knew where it was. There was a better chance that he was going to fly to Europe and track the old man down before he just sat around and waited for his return.

"Are you sure there's absolutely nothing you can do?" Mamoru asked searchingly.

The boy immediately averted his eyes and went back to cleaning up the remains of the lamp. "Nope," he said, and Mamoru noticed as his ears and neck began to flush a bit.

"You're lying." A statement, Mamoru knew, was true. The boy's body language screamed, "I'm a liar! God have mercy!" and it was proven in a second when the boy was back up and in his face within a second. He barely reached Mamoru's upper arm.

"I am not!" he shouted defiantly.

"Okay," Mamoru laughed, though firm. "You're acting way too defensive and you're also blushing like a little girl. Either you think I'm unobservant or incredibly stupid, and I hope it's not the latter or you're in for a world of pain."

Mamoru's mind cackled as he heard what sounded like a growl escape from the moody teen. But then, with all seriousness, Mamoru leaned down so that he was merely an inch or two away from the boy's face.

"What are you hiding from me?" he asked, searching the kid's eyes for even a trace of a lie.

The boy held his insolent stare. "Ab-so-lute-ly nothing."

Mamoru allowed his eyes to glance at the destroyed phone. "See that?" he asked. "That's going to be you in about a minute if you don't tell me everything I need to know."

"You don't need to know anything."

The boy turned back to sweeping before letting out a yelp as Mamoru grasped the back of his collar and hoisted him about half a foot off the ground with one arm. Thank God for Tuxedo Kamen's added strength, for the boy didn't look nearly as heavy as he was. It was quite the opposite.

But at the moment, Mamoru didn't really care. It was the middle of the night and he wanted to go to bed. He was going to get answers!

"We could stay here all night talking in circles or you could tell me exactly what I want to know so we can both get on with our lives."

The boy struggled for a moment before hanging limply in his grip, red coloring his cheeks in embarrassment.

"Put. Me. Down," he barked.

"Not until you tell me what I want to know."

"Go to hell!"

"Believe me; I've been there for a majority of my life."

The boy glowered at him, clearly contemplating on trying to kick him and escape.

A thought suddenly occurred to Mamoru. "What's your name?" he asked.

The boy jolted in surprise. "What?"

"Your name," he repeated. "What is it?"

The boy frowned and regarded Mamoru with untrusting eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"We've been arguing about absolutely nothing for over an hour now, and I'd also like to know the name of the boy who was actually stupid enough to knock me out with a desk lamp."

"O-oh," the boy stuttered. "It's Kyuubei Sadao."

Mamoru nodded. "Okay then, Kyuubei-san." A steel tipped rose shot out of his wrist, and he flipped the stem in between his fingers. "Whatever it is you're hiding, you're going to tell me now, or I'm going to slit your throat, okay?"

Sadao raised his arms defensively. "I swear to God the cops are going to arrest your sorry ass if you do."

"How?" Mamoru taunted. "You're the only one who's seen my face, my alter-ego has an alibi and no motive, and it would take me about three and a half seconds to get rid of all blood or other traces of me in this building. And even if they somehow got their hands on my DNA by an act of God, it still wouldn't trace back to me."

"Why not?" Sadao asked, eyeing the rose warily.

Mamoru edged it closer to the boy's throat. "When I become Tuxedo Kamen, my DNA changes. In other words, I don't exist."

"Bullshit."

"I'd like to hear you say that when I'm wiping your blood off the carpet."

After a moment, Mamoru felt Sadao's neck shift as he gulped. "If I agree to tell you, will you put me down?"

"Of course."

The boy nodded and Mamoru placed him back on the ground, allowing him a moment to regain his breath.

"You'd better start talking, and soon," Mamoru warned as the boy massaged his neck.

Sadao nodded, though his eyes quickly drew into a scowl. "The necklace is here, moron."

"But you said your Grandfather-"

"No, you said that you wanted to talk to my Grandpa, but I never said he took the necklace with him."

Mamoru's eyes widened. "Where is it? Take me to it, now."

"I can't," Sadao said. "I swore to Gramps that I'd protect it with my life!"

Mamoru lowered his head and grabbed Sadao's shoulder's, forcing him to look directly into his eyes.

"If I don't get that necklace, then your life, along with the other six point five billion lives on this planet is going to end."

"I can't," he repeated firmly. "I promised."

"Are you seriously going to let everybody die just because of a stupid little promise?" Mamoru hissed harshly.

Sadao said nothing.

Mamoru sighed, reprimanding himself for getting a bit overworked. "Listen Kyuubei-san. I'm not just saying for you to give me the necklace. I can pay you-I'll do anything it takes to get that crystal."

"Even if I agreed, there's no way the old man wouldn't notice it missing when he gets back!" Sadao shouted. "It's not like I can just take it and give it to you!"

"Are you sure there isn't any way? Any way at all?" Mamoru inquired.

"Not unless you plan on killing him because the only way I'm going to get to touch that thing is if he dies!" Sadao said, shaking his head.

"Well," Mamoru began, trying to get overworked. "Could you think of a way you could get him to give it to you early? Prove yourself trustworthy of it?"

Sadao winced. "I could…but he'd yell at me if I just took it and then gave it away."

"He's not going to know," Mamoru said. "I can find a way to get somebody to make replica of it. You just have to give it to me."

"No," Sadao spat. "Why should I give it to you? How do I even know that you're not the one who's trying to destroy everybody? I could just give it to the Sailor Senshi."

Please," Mamoru said. "I'll do anything, get anything. I can pay you…buy you some toy -"

"I'm not a toddler."

"I hardly noticed," Mamoru huffed.

Sadao clicked his tongue before shaking his head. "I don't need your help with anything. Now get out! You're starting to give me a headache."

He then turned and made his way over to the trashcan to dump the dustpan.

He was getting a headache? This kid was driving Mamoru nuts! Not to mention that he'd already bludgeoned him with a lamp!

"You don't want anything?" Mamoru said. "Nothing at all?"

"Nope," he said. "And you're the last person-" he stopped dead in his tracks.

Turning, he regarded Mamoru for a moment, before smirking evilly.

"Tuxedo Kamen?" he called innocently.

Mamoru nodded, though he could feel a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I might be able to use your help…just how good are you at matchmaking?"

What the hell?

"Um, I'm about average," Mamoru said dimly.

Liar. He knew nothing that. He'd rather die than be subjected to something like that.

Sadao shuffled his feet, though there was a contemplative stare on his face. "Then actually, I do need your help."

Was this kid seriously going to ask him for love advice? Was he nuts? Mamoru gulped. "Anything."

At that moment, Mamoru could feel the devil scurry up the stairway from hell, rip his soul out of him, shove it in a dirt sack, tie it with some twine, and then run back down with it to lock it away for the rest of eternity.

What could he say in this situation? Shit? That didn't seem nearly awful enough. What had the Odango called him last Tuesday? A dirty, rotten, conniving rabbit weener? That'd work.

"You see, there's this girl," Sadao began.

Oh no.

"I've known her for a really long time, since around the second grade actually."

Oh hell no.

"She's really pretty and down to Earth, and I've been trying to get her attention for a while…"

Why him? Why was it always him? But he had to do it, his mind argued. Take one for the team, Mamoru, for the Ginzushou!

"But she hates me."

Mamoru choked as his stomach shriveled away. This was bad…this was very bad!

"Well," he said shakily. "Why does this-this girl hate you?" He could think of a million good reasons.

Sadao blushed and turned away. "I tease her."

"You tease her?" Mamoru asked slowly.

"And yell at her. And I call her stupid and ugly. And I sometimes trip her."

Mamoru, despite himself, furrowed his brow. "Why the hell do you do all that if you like this girl?"

"I don't know…"

He could feel the sweat forming on his forehead.

"I-um, what exactly did you want me to do about this?"

Sadao suddenly looked up and glared at him. "You said you would help me!"

"I—err, with what?"

He blushed angrily. "Fine! If you're not going to help me, then I guess-,"

Mamoru waved his hands frantically. "No, that's not it! What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to…to help me win her over," he stated nervously.

Mamoru felt like if he blinked, an invisible bomb would go off. "You want me to do what?"

Sadao smacked a hand to his face, cursing under his breath. "Oh for God's sake! If you help me get this girl to like me back, then I will give you the necklace!"

Holy rabbit weeners, or whatever other curse word he could think of at the moment. This was going to be…not fun. Not fun at all. He, Mamoru, the most socially challenged person on the planet, was being practically forced into helping a fifteen year old boy win over his crush!

"I never said I was forcing you," said Sadao conceitedly.

Mamoru's eyes widened in shock. "How the hell did you hear that?"

"You said it…without hesitating…"

"Oh," Mamoru said, feeling genuinely embarrassed. How the heck had he slipped up like that? With a sigh, Mamoru took a step forward. "So who is this girl, anyway?"

Sadao swallowed. "She's in my grade, and a lot of people know her. She's probably the nicest girl in Juuban, no, in the world."

Oh. A huge weight was lifted from Mamoru's shoulders. Well then, that sounded incredibly easy then. Sadao wasn't in any way bad looking, so it might be possible for even him to hook these two people up.

"Okay," Mamoru said with a lot more confidence. "What's her name?"

"Tsukino Usagi."

"Holy rabbit weeners, no! I won't do it!" he blurted out before he could stop it. If this was the Tsukino Usagi he was thinking of, Odango Atama, then there was no way he would go through with this.

"Don't you want that crystal…and did you just say rabbit weeners?"

Mamoru shook his head, still frazzled, and grunted, "Sorry…just ignore my stupidity for the moment…Motoki's really starting to rub off on me…"

Sadao's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who's Motoki?"

"Never mind. Does this girl happen to be as dumb as a shovel and does she also trip over anything that doesn't trip over her first?"

Sadao nodded.

What-no-she-it couldn't be!

"And does this girl happen to have long blonde hair in a ridiculous style that makes it really easy to annoy her with?" Mamoru asked weakly.

Sadao frowned. "Yes, but I think it's cute!"

Something in Mamoru seemed to shrivel up and die in that moment.

Rabbit weeners indeed.


Hey, about the ammonia and bleach thing; don't take that seriously. I read it off wikipedia in less than five minutes so I doubt it's acutally true...Ahh, it's good to be back...

Please Review!

-Fishyscales ;)