This not my first Sailor Moon fic, but I've lost the only other one I've ever written. This is merely the prologue, but I hope you enjoy it.
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A pale moon shone down on the sleeping city of Tokyo. At three in the morning, it was a time when only ruffians and workaholics were still awake. The city, for the most part, slept peacefully, but a few select residents of Minato-ku, who would best fall into the category of workaholics, soon would find their sleep interrupted by that other brand of insomniacs, the ruffians. These were a class of ruffians all their own, as were the workaholics who fought them. Policemen were no match for these monsters. Instead, the city, the world, found themselves relying on costumed teenagers with powers the likes of which had never been seen.
And tonight, as the night sky flashed a disturbing black, unbeknownst to most, a demon that was surely from the depths of Hell was unleashed.
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Tsukino Usagi's blue eyes popped open, instantly alert. Something was wrong. The knowledge and certainty of it niggled at the edge of her senses, gnawing on her stomach. Something inside of her was clawing at her belly, desperate to get out, to escape the cage that had been created for it.
Usagi's hand shook with weariness as she pressed it to her mouth. She moaned resignedly. Again? It was the third time this week. She already had detention for running out of school during lunch yesterday and not returning until later.
She cast a hopeful glance at brooch on her bedside table, lying alongside what appeared to be a pink calculator. Nothing had happened yet. Maybe—
Her hopes were dashed. The golden brooch began to pulsate softly, washing the room in a pink light. Usagi sighed, willing her hands to stop shaking. The communicator was bound to go off at any moment. Wearily, she threw the covers aside, eased her trembling feet onto the floor and crossed to the table.
Within seconds, the communicator began beep, at first so softly that only the feline who slumbered on her bed registered the sound, but it grew louder bit by bit, until the sound threatened to wake up the other humans in the house. She stared at the communicator with an inscrutable expression on her face. After what seemed an eternity later, she pushed the button to answer the distress call.
She donned a cheery, sleepy expression, and stretched her mouth into a great yawn. "Moshi moshi?" she questioned blearily.
"Usagi no baka!"
So it was Rei this time.
"What took you so long to answer the communicator?"
"I was asleep."
"Typical Odango Atama. You could sleep through a tornado. It's no wonder you're barely passing your classes."
That stung. She knew Rei meant it in jest, but still.
She waved a hand at the communicator flippantly. She'd left it on the table so that Rei wouldn't ask why the screen was shaking. "Yeah, yeah. So where's the youma this time?"
"The park."
A snort. "That's original."
"Whatever Usagi, just get over here."
The signal cut off and Usagi dropped her dissimulated expression. Her hair glimmered in a patch of moonlight as she picked up the brooch. She'd leave her hair as it was, seemingly wilting as it hung dully from her head. She had neither the time nor the energy to create Sailor Moon's traditional hairstyle tonight.
She raised one exhausted hand over her head as she clutched the brooch in a hateful grip. The words left her mouth, almost of their own volition.
"Moon. Prism. Power."
And the room exploded into a world of white, burning light. Usagi felt herself infused with energy, possibly the only perk of the job. Her hair stopped wilting and seemed to grow, no longer hanging dully from her head, but almost floating there, a golden cloud. Her buried powers surfaced from the cage she'd locked them in, and forced her from the ratty (but comfortable) pink pajamas into a skintight, battle-ready sailor fuku. A flash of light on her forehead felt comforting, and Usagi's eyes closed briefly, relishing the adrenaline and sense of safety that lasted only a moment. A tiara appeared and the transformation was finished. Sailor Moon was ready.
And they were waiting for her.
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Chiba Mamoru was awakened by a hand crushing his heart. At least it felt that way. Power burned within him, and seethed at the surface, bubbling over as he writhed in his bed, sweating and clutching the sheets in his agony. He looked down when he felt a piercing pain in his hand. A rose was clutched there, the stem driving into his palm, creating a bloody mess.
He closed his eyes. This couldn't be happening again. He'd gotten a B on his Physics test yesterday because he'd run out before he'd finished the last 10 problems.
He sighed and raised his hand to the opposite palm, where golden sparks danced for a minute before the cut disappeared. The only sign that was left was the thick, red liquid that still dripped slowly from the rose's stem.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He wondered if his life was draining away like that.
The link pulled insistently. He has no business sitting there like that. There were youma to be fought, heroines to be saved, roses to be thrown, and battles to be won.
He closed his eyes, briefly concentrating before his body was encased in a heavy tuxedo and his blue eyes open, revealing a reluctant determination. He took a moment to detach the weighty cape from his back and throw the stuffy top-hat onto his bed; it was warm out tonight. He felt a flash of pain from her side of the link and knew there was no more time to be had.
His blue-black hair disheveled from what little sleep he had managed to achieve, be it restful or no, he leapt from his balcony with a last longing look at his bed.
Tuxedo Kamen had work to do.
And she was waiting for him.
