This is just an idea for a Sailor Moon/Weiß Kreuz story that's been banging around in my head forever. I need to write, so…yeah…have fun. As a warning, I'm reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens right now, and I love it, so if I go overboard on details, well…I warned you ahead of time. ^_^ The rating may seem harsh right now, but the story will grow more dark. I may have to change it to R later, though I don't know exactly where this story is headed. For Sailor Moon, this is slightly AU.

Disclaimer: To be blunt, I don't own the characters, so don't sue me.

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There are days when you just don't want to get out of bed. The sun is up, thin beams of it's light poking their way through the slats in the shade and still managing to fill the room with light. Birds have been up for hours, chirping out their unique songs in a way that made you wonder if they were really as small as they looked. People bustled around outside the three-story building, some coming and some going. Cars passed, and giggling couples stopped outside for a fraction of time, admiring to various degrees the flowers. The others that worked in the shop were already up and around, too busy with the fresh feeling of a warm spring morning to mind waking him. There were customers to attend to, flowers to care for, papers to fill out.

He should have been at school now, should have been talking to Ouka and his other friends, half-listening to his teachers ramble on about things he already knew, or didn't care about knowing. Ouka would be worried about him. He hadn't seen her since that night, Friday…couldn't bear to see her now, either. He couldn't bear to see any of his friends, knowing who he was. He'd wanted desperately to know who he was, who it was that had abandoned him when he was a child. Now he knew, and he wanted to go back to wondering who he was. The happiness he wanted to find in his family was shattered, and still falling to the ground, where it would undoubtedly break further and cause pain to anyone who tread upon it.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning, he forced himself to sit up and climb out of bed. His room was simple, with a bed, a desk and a dresser. A door led to a small walk-in closet, and a computer sat atop the desk. A laundry basket sat in the corner, holding dirty clothes in need of a good washing. In the corner, his backpack sat on the floor, unopened despite the large amount of homework his teachers had assigned the Friday before. After that night, he never got around to washing his clothes or doing any of his homework. He hadn't eaten anything, either, though his stomach complained constantly. He didn't care anymore, not about food or school or keeping clean or his friends…what good was it?

Silently, he pulled a pair of dirty pants from the laundry basket and pulled them on. He found a T-shirt from his dresser and pulled it on, inside-out. Using his fingers to comb his hair, he stumbled out the door and went down one flight of stairs to the kitchen.

The three-story building had a rather simple layout. The first floor was the shop, full of fragrant, vibrant flowers and various supplies. A storeroom was located in the back, private from the customers. In the storeroom, a door opened up leading down to the basement, where Manx worked her magic. He only spent time on the first floor on weekends and right after school, when he worked. Otherwise, he was usually up in his room.

The bedrooms were located on the third floor, along with a bathroom. There were five in all, one for each of the florists and a spare bedroom for guests. They rarely had guests, though, so it was almost never used. He never bothered to go into the other rooms. Aya would probably chop his head off, and Ken's probably looked like a tornado went through. He had no desire to go into Yohji's, either, since it was probably full of porn. He wasn't interested in that kind of stuff.

The second floor wasn't used much either. It had a kitchen, a dining room, a living room and a bathroom. They ate there, and used the bathrooms when the other one was being used. Otherwise, it was there mostly for show. Despite the fact that the four worked together and lived in the same building, they spent very little time talking to each other. They all had too much to do. Yohji had his women, Ken had soccer, he had school and Aya…well, Aya just disappeared and did his own thing.

Once he reached the kitchen, he grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard. He found some off-brand cereal in another cupboard and milk in the refrigerator, and made himself breakfast. He didn't feel much like eating, but if it would make his stomach shut up, he'd do anything. The silence about him was finally broken as the kitchen door swung open and Yohji popped his head in.

"It's about time you got up, Omi. It's almost ten o'clock. You're late to school, you know." The blond grinned at him. He grunted in reply and continued munching on his cereal.

Yohji sighed and closed the door, knowing that he was fighting a lost battle. Ever since Omi learned of his…origins, he'd been depressed and incredibly unresponsive. At least the kid was eating, though. Persia wouldn't be happy if their youngest member starved himself to death. Neither would the other florists, though they probably wouldn't admit it to anyone else.

"Is he okay?" The voice from behind him startled him for a moment, but he recognized it immediately as the soccer player's.

"I think so. He's eating, thank god." Yohji sighed and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Poor kid's got it tough." Ken sighed and leaned against the wall. "Imagine, having your father be the next closest thing to the devil, and having an assignment to kill your own brother. That's gotta be hard."

"He's handling it pretty well, I think." Yohji took out a cigarette and his lighter, lit it, and stuck it in his mouth, taking a long puff. "I can't really tell, though, since I've never had to go through something like that."

The blond smiled, a rather depressing smile, but a smile none the less, and went downstairs. The shop was open, but no one came in the mornings. The crowd always came after school let out, since all those girls thought they were gods. The morning was a nice break from the after- school rush, and Yohji rather enjoyed working in the mornings.

It wasn't that he didn't like all those pretty girls fawning all over him. It was just that they were rather loud and obnoxious, and he didn't go for young girls. Ninety-five percent of the relationships he was in were totally physical, and his couldn't get physically intimate with a high school girl. It was illegal, and they all had such high hopes for a wonderful romance. He refused to put a girl through that kind of pain when he knew he wouldn't be serious about the relationship.



Somewhere, an angel was weeping. She was alone, naked, scared…there was no light for her to find her way back to heaven. The Devil had come to her, and she had resisted, but at a cost more dear to her than anyone would ever know. For when you dance with the Devil, willingly or otherwise, you almost always lose something. If you don't, you're incredibly lucky, and the Devil got something out of it in the end, despite you.

The angel continued to weep, although she knew it was hopeless. Hope of living, hope of salvation, hope of taking back what was hers had all but disappeared. She wanted back that which was dear to her, but she would never have it back, never complete, never whole. The Devil's influence was far too strong, and she was too weak without that which was dear to her to combat him.

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Well…let me know what you think.

TO READERS OF MY OTHER STUFF: I hope to start writing on them soon. I just wrote this because I had a little free time, and the idea was smacking around my head. I have not abandoned you, I just had to sort some things out.