KAMEN.
This is a short, poetry/prosaic piece about (who else?) Chiba Mamoru and his alter-identity, Tuxedo Kamen. "Kamen" is Japanese for "mask". I believe Pandora Waldron first coined the nicknames "Usa Major" for Usagi and "Usa Minor" for ChibiUsa, from Mamoru's perspective.
I love feedback of all kinds, especially constructive criticism.
************************************
Another night.
Another battle.
Another evening of swooping out of nowhere;
Making speeches, throwing roses.
I sigh and take off the mask;
And I lay it on the dresser before removing the full mask;
The mask that covers me from head to toe;
The mask that hides my identity.
Now Tuxedo Kamen is gone for another night;
Only Chiba Mamoru remains.
And the mask still stares sightlessly up at me.
I hear myself sigh, off in the distance;
As I walk to the mirror, picking up the mask again.
How many times will I go through this childish ritual?
I put childish ways behind me long ago.
Yet I cannot help but do this.
Staring at myself in the mirror.
"Chiba Mamoru," say the official records.
"Dark hair, tall build, brown eyes."
"Orphaned at a young age."
I bring the mask to my face;
And stare at the reflection before me;
It looks back, mocking me from behind its own mask.
"Mamoru-san," says Motoki.
The mask brings something to my face;
Something hard to describe.
I look bolder, more confident, more... distant.
Safe behind my mask.
Why safe?
What is behind the mask that drives me to this every night?
Why do I go to the mirror and put it on?
Why do I almost... fear... to take it off?
"Tuxedo Kamen!" say the senshi.
What *is* behind the mask?
Why is it that I can't let it go?
Is it something so terrible, so ugly, so vicious that it must be hidden;
Locked away behind the safety of the white eyemask?
No. It is not what may be behind the mask that I fear.
It is what may not be.
Because without Tuxedo Kamen... I barely know who Chiba Mamoru is.
My family could not teach me;
So I tried to teach myself.
I used to think I had solved the equation;
But I was fooling myself.
And when Tuxedo Kamen appeared... that vision of myself disappeared.
Behind the mask, sometimes I fear there is... nothing.
"Mamo-chan!" calls my Usako.
I barely know who Chiba Mamoru is;
But I am learning again.
And this time, I am sure I am learning correctly.
I take off the mask, and sigh and shake my head.
How strange, and wondrous, and terrifying...
To have your self-image shaped by memories and dreams of a past life;
And by a pair of blonde odangos.
But now I would not have it any other way.
And soon... she will teach me to become Chiba Mamoru.
And one day, Chiba Mamoru will be King Endymion.
Tuxedo Kamen will be no more.
I may still need to fight;
But I will fight as me.
I will no longer need my alter ego,
And his kamen.
THE END.
This is a short, poetry/prosaic piece about (who else?) Chiba Mamoru and his alter-identity, Tuxedo Kamen. "Kamen" is Japanese for "mask". I believe Pandora Waldron first coined the nicknames "Usa Major" for Usagi and "Usa Minor" for ChibiUsa, from Mamoru's perspective.
I love feedback of all kinds, especially constructive criticism.
************************************
Another night.
Another battle.
Another evening of swooping out of nowhere;
Making speeches, throwing roses.
I sigh and take off the mask;
And I lay it on the dresser before removing the full mask;
The mask that covers me from head to toe;
The mask that hides my identity.
Now Tuxedo Kamen is gone for another night;
Only Chiba Mamoru remains.
And the mask still stares sightlessly up at me.
I hear myself sigh, off in the distance;
As I walk to the mirror, picking up the mask again.
How many times will I go through this childish ritual?
I put childish ways behind me long ago.
Yet I cannot help but do this.
Staring at myself in the mirror.
"Chiba Mamoru," say the official records.
"Dark hair, tall build, brown eyes."
"Orphaned at a young age."
I bring the mask to my face;
And stare at the reflection before me;
It looks back, mocking me from behind its own mask.
"Mamoru-san," says Motoki.
The mask brings something to my face;
Something hard to describe.
I look bolder, more confident, more... distant.
Safe behind my mask.
Why safe?
What is behind the mask that drives me to this every night?
Why do I go to the mirror and put it on?
Why do I almost... fear... to take it off?
"Tuxedo Kamen!" say the senshi.
What *is* behind the mask?
Why is it that I can't let it go?
Is it something so terrible, so ugly, so vicious that it must be hidden;
Locked away behind the safety of the white eyemask?
No. It is not what may be behind the mask that I fear.
It is what may not be.
Because without Tuxedo Kamen... I barely know who Chiba Mamoru is.
My family could not teach me;
So I tried to teach myself.
I used to think I had solved the equation;
But I was fooling myself.
And when Tuxedo Kamen appeared... that vision of myself disappeared.
Behind the mask, sometimes I fear there is... nothing.
"Mamo-chan!" calls my Usako.
I barely know who Chiba Mamoru is;
But I am learning again.
And this time, I am sure I am learning correctly.
I take off the mask, and sigh and shake my head.
How strange, and wondrous, and terrifying...
To have your self-image shaped by memories and dreams of a past life;
And by a pair of blonde odangos.
But now I would not have it any other way.
And soon... she will teach me to become Chiba Mamoru.
And one day, Chiba Mamoru will be King Endymion.
Tuxedo Kamen will be no more.
I may still need to fight;
But I will fight as me.
I will no longer need my alter ego,
And his kamen.
THE END.