Alicia Blade
It's getting to the point where so many people are influencing this story that I don't know who to thank anymore! As always, Stormlight has been a huge help! I also want to extend my gratitude to Phantasy Star, Pudadingding, and Usagi of Fuedal Moon Era for the suggestions! In addition, thanks go to MaccaMattie, Sabreen, jojodacrow, and ClaidiWinter because their reviews always leave me grinning from ear to ear. I hope I haven't left any major contributors out.
And of course, ALL reviewers help with encouragement and support. I appreciate every one of you!
Love drabbles and LJ communities? Check out Jo-chan's brand new Usa/Mamo fanfic community: Usagi and Mamoru: 100 Themes of Love. Link on my bio page.
"Can I be a scout?"
Setsuna looked up from studying the daily schedule of the next Crystal Carrier to see Emily loitering in the doorway to the living room. "Pardon me?"
"Can I be a scout?"
She blinked, then squinted her eyes suspiciously. "No."
"Why not?" Emily whined.
"Because… you just can't."
"All the other authors get to make up their own scouts."
Setsuna rolled her eyes. "Emily, I can't just make you a scout. You have to have special powers first."
"Oh, come on! You must have a box of spare wands and pens stashed away somewhere! Besides, I've been giving this a lot of thought."
Groaning, Setsuna rubbed her fingers over her temples.
"Get this. I could be Sailor Cupid. Get it? And my weapon can be heart-shaped arrows!"
Setsuna raised an irritated eyebrow, but Emily only held up her hands in defense and continued.
"I know, I know, the name's kind of tacky, but it fits, right? And since Venus is already taken…"
"No."
"Sailor Matchmaker?"
"No."
"But Setsuna…"
"No."
Emily harrumphed. "Why not?"
"Emily, don't you have something to be doing?"
After pursing her lips and glowering, Emily finally turned and marched out of the apartment, yelling over her shoulder, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. And you know what? It'd be a lot easier with arrows!"
...
Usagi approached the arcade with extreme caution.
The attack the day before had brought out a side of Mamoru that Usagi had never seen before, though she'd always known existed. A side that was caring, protective, and charming. A side that didn't call her Odango Atama as an insult, but as an endearment. A side Usagi rather liked.
But what now?
Was it possible that the appearance of Mamoru #2 had squashed out the existence of Mamoru #1? Or would Mamoru #1 roughly shove Mamoru #2 back into the hole he'd emerged from? Usagi wasn't sure, so she'd formulated two plans of attack:
Plan A: Mamoru #2 had taken complete control of Mamoru #1 and acts like a perfect gentleman. In this scenario, Usagi would ask about his wound and offer to buy him a chocolate shake ... or let him buy her one, whichever came first. Then they'd chat, she'd get to know him better, and they'd walk away friends. No more fights. This was the best case scenario.
Plan B: Worst case scenario. Mamoru #1 has shot and buried Mamoru #2 and when inquiries arise, brushes them off with a confused "Mamoru #2? Never heard of him." He would call Usagi 'Odango Atama,' insult her walking skills, and probably blame his injuries on her carelessness. In this instance, Usagi was ready and willing to hold up the traditional verbal boxing matches—with a vengeance. He'd never know what hit him.
But it all depended on what Mamoru did first.
...
Mamoru sat at the counter pretending to be deeply engrossed in his book. Emily and Motoki had been sharing strange looks and smiles all morning, and when neither was forthcoming with their shared secret, Mamoru had decided to ignore them both. He didn't mind. It gave him a chance to go over the tactics he had formulated for dealing with Usagi, who was bound to show up at any minute.
The youma attack, or, more specifically, the post-attack events had stirred emotions in Mamoru that he had never felt before, and he knew Usagi was the cause. He had felt an overwhelming urgency to take care of her, to protect her. And when he saw that compass heading straight for her, in that brief instant, he knew he would give his life for her. The feeling was just as strong, perhaps stronger, than when he saved Sailormoon. Then, when she was bandaging his shoulder—her hands caressing and gentle—he felt drawn to her. Not only that, but he felt as though he belonged in that moment, beneath that touch, looking into those eyes. He had never experienced anything so... perfect. And while the emotions frightened him to some degree, they also left him immensely curious. And so, he had come up with two possible strategies:
Plan A: Usagi would enter, her normally cheerful, bubbly self, still grateful for his rescue act yesterday and boom! Instant friends! He would offer to buy her a sundae and they could spend the rest of the afternoon exploring this very new, very unexpected, relationship.
Plan B: Usagi would enter, her normally stubborn, naive self, and refuse to acknowledge the change—either in Mamoru or in their behavior toward each other. She would proceed to be obnoxious and unforgiving, and Mamoru would counter with equally obnoxious jabs and insults, painfully aware that some things just weren't meant to be.
But it all depended on what Usagi did first.
...
Motoki and Emily were off in a corner, discussing their own strategy in hushed voices, when Usagi entered the arcade. Mamoru swiveled in his chair at the sound of the sliding doors, and their eyes locked. Electricity filled the air between them—the same electricity that Emily had always thought she was making up in her stories, but now realized was very real, very powerful, and very alive. She was sure everyone in the arcade could feel it. Hell, she could almost SEE it.
But Mamoru and Usagi... stared. Each one waiting, anticipating the other's move, like some screwy game of chess.
Slowly, Usagi began to walk toward him, attempting to still her furiously beating heart. Their eyes stayed locked. Mamoru gulped, rising unsteadily from the stool. The air practically pulsed around them.
With her eyes glued to Mamoru's the way they were, Usagi really couldn't be blamed for what happened next. She didn't see the little plush doll that had gotten lost while refilling the crane machine game. She had no idea it was there until it was directly beneath her feet.
With a squeal of surprise, Usagi tripped and tumbled forward, landing squarely in the arms of Mamoru.
The spell broken, Mamoru chuckled and said the only thing he could think to say at the moment. "Oy, what a klutz, Odango Atama."
Usagi froze, staring at the collar of his jacket, and felt an immediate blush creep into her face.
Plan B it was.
Pulling herself from his arms, she glowered up at him. "That is NOT my name, you imbecile!"
It took Mamoru a fraction of a moment to go from catch-and-hold mode to fight mode, but the darkening of his blue eyes made it apparent that the mode, indeed, was reached.
"Whoa, big word! Let's see you try to spell it!"
"Sure. Imbecile: M-A-M-O-R-U."
Emily looked at Motoki, his aghast face watching the fighting couple with mute fear. "I think this would be a good time," she hinted gently.
He nodded. "You get the door." Then, he walked up to the couple and put both fists angrily on his hips. "Alright, that is ENOUGH you two!" he howled, putting an immediate halt to their bickering. "Both of you follow me!" Without letting them respond, he grabbed each by an ear and dragged them behind the counter. Before either could so much as speak a word of protest, they had been shoved into a waiting closet and the door was shut and bolted by Emily. Motoki turned to her. "Well, for both our sakes, I hope this works."
She ignored him, muttering, "I am so going to clichéd fanfiction hell for this."
...
Mamoru was the first to regain his thoughts and immediately began pounding on the door. "Motoki! Let us out! This isn't funny!"
"You are going to stay in there until you have both apologized and decided to put an end to this childish bickering! I am sick of listening to you two go at each other like this!"
"Motoki-san," Usagi whimpered from behind Mamoru. "It's dark in here."
"There's a light above your heads."
"But I can't reach..."
Click.
"Oh. Thanks, Mamoru-baka."
"Motoki, if you don't let us out this instant..."
"Mamoru, I suggest you two start talking this over, because I could easily keep you in there all day. Now, I have to get back to work."
...
Motoki smiled apprehensively at Emily. "Are you going to stand guard?"
"Sure thing. I'll be right here, keeping you posted if anything happens."
He nodded and walked back toward the counter as Emily sat down, her back to the closet door. "And Haruka said this wouldn't work."
...
Mamoru gawked at the door. "I can't believe this is happening."
"My worst nightmare is coming true."
"YOUR worst nightmare?" he growled, turning to face the girl. "I'm stuck in a broom closet with the brattiest teenager in Tokyo!"
"And I'm stuck in a closet with the most stuck-up jerk in Tokyo. What's your point? Besides, this is all your fault!"
His jaw fell. "My fault? How, pray tell, is this MY fault?"
"Because if you could stop being mean to me for just ONE day, we wouldn't be here!"
"Well, if you would stop being an annoying crybaby for one day, maybe I'd be nicer!"
"There you go again! Everything you say is rude and cruel! How sweet, wonderful Motoki can stand to have a jerk like you as a friend is completely beyond me!"
"The only reason you think he's so 'sweet and wonderful' is because he puts up with a brat like you, something that I don't feel I need to torture myself with everyday!"
"Gah, you arrogant, frustrating..."
10 minutes later
"...inconsiderate, selfish snob!"
"Any change?" Motoki asked, though his question was useless. He, along with half of the arcade, could hear the shouting quite clearly. The closet was beginning to attract a crowd.
"Nothing. How can they not have run out of insults yet?"
Motoki shrugged, handed Emily a milkshake, and turned away.
15 minutes later
Emily slurped the last of the shake up through the plastic straw, making sure to get every last chocolate drop she could out of the glass. The suction and slurping could almost be heard above the yelling from the closet behind her.
"I have gotten more bumps on my head because of your lousy shoes and test papers..."
"Oh, if a test paper could leave a bump, then you are more of a pansy than I thought you were."
Emily sighed and looked at Motoki, who was chewing on a pencil eraser. "I'm beginning to think this was a bad idea," he said.
She shrugged. "They can't possibly keep this up forever, can they?"
20 minutes later
"You can't walk and chew gum at the same time. You can't read above a sixth grade level. You can't—"
"Whoever asked your opinion, anyway? You are nothing but an overgrown grade-school bully who has nothing better to do with his time than make my life miserable. Why don't you go do something productive? Like jump off a bridge!"
"Well, gee, that sounds really nice compared to this torture chamber. But, sadly, I can't. Because I'm stuck in a closet with YOU!"
"Don't remind me! Need I tell you whose fault that is?"
Emily groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I don't get it. They were doing so good yesterday."
Motoki gently patted her shoulder. "Hey, we tried, right? Maybe the chemistry isn't there after all. Perhaps we should let them out."
Emily was about to suggest five more minutes, when the incessant arguing was broken by Usagi's piercing scream.
...
Mamoru stumbled back, barely gaining his balance as Usagi suddenly screamed and launched herself into his arms. Her legs encircled his waist, her hands clawing desperately at his back and hair. She was trembling and whimpering.
"Uh..." he stammered, his arms instinctively tying around her, keeping her from falling, though her own death grip surely would have kept that from happening. "What... what happened?"
"It was... I saw... oh, protect me!" she cried, burying her face into his shoulder.
He cleared his throat, trying, in vain, to sort through the cascading sensory overload. All of his anger sizzled away immediately, to be completely replaced with the urge, the need, to protect the shaking girl against his chest.
"What is it? What did you see?"
"A... a... a spider."
He blinked, her words echoing in the silence of his thoughts. "A spider?"
She sniffled. "Uh-huh. A huge one! A monster! Over... over in the corner..." He arched his neck to see past her blonde odangos, pulling her tighter as he scanned the corners. Sure enough, sitting innocently in a safe little web in a corner beside the mop bucket, was a little black spider.
Mamoru couldn't help but smile, but somehow managed to withhold a sarcastic chuckle. Gently rubbing the girl's back, he moved forward and crushed the little monster beneath his shoe.
"There. Dead spider."
She was silent and unmoving, before her muffled breath asked against his shirt, "Are there any more?"
This time, a chuckle did escape, but even Mamoru knew it was more at her adorability than her childishness. He scanned the room carefully. "I don't see any. I think you're safe."
Slowly, she pulled her head off his shoulder and looked around the tiny closet herself, analyzing every dark corner and crevice, before finally meeting Mamoru's gently teasing smile.
"Oh. Thank you," she whispered, feeling suddenly foolish. Even more so, though, she was feeling suddenly very close to him. It did not get past her how his scent lingered around her, or how his strong arms cradled her, strong yet soothing, or how his intensely blue eyes, now completely absent of the venom from a moment ago, glittered gray in the dusty closet light. She thought of her legs wrapped around his abdomen and immediately conjured up memories of his sculpted chest and stomach from the day before. She gulped. "How's your shoulder?" she whispered, her face only inches from his.
"Fine," Mamoru whispered back, gazing up at her pale blue eyes. He didn't bother to mention the jolt of pain she had caused when first clamping on to him. The pain had since vanished, and the closeness of her made it seem so trivial. He, too, had been noticing such things. The smooth curve of her waist and a hairline of skin above her waistband barely felt beneath the tips of his fingers, her silky hair tickling his jaw, her fingernails digging into the cloth of his shirt and pressing painlessly into the skin of his shoulder blades.
Mamoru gasped as Usagi's eyes fluttered closed and she craned her neck down, brushing her lips against his. The touch was so quick and soft, more like a breeze against him than a kiss, that for a moment he thought perhaps he'd only imagined it.
Then she was gone, her warmth, her weight, her intense gaze. She had so gracefully deserted his grip and found her way to the back wall that for a moment Mamoru regretted ever calling her a klutz. She was leaning one shoulder against the wall, staring at the floor, her lips pursed. She was trembling, Mamoru noticed, before becoming aware that he was, too.
"Usagi... why..."
"It's tradition," she said, shyly looking up at him through her lashes, "for a damsel to give her hero a kiss... after he's rescued her."
Mamoru gulped. "I rescued you from a youma yesterday, but you didn't..."
"Spiders are scarier than youmas," she said seriously, though a hint of a smile had appeared on her mouth. Mamoru couldn't help but let his eyes roam down to those gently curving lips, slightly wet from where she'd recently licked them. Suddenly, though, her smile vanished, replaced with a curious frown. "Do you hear that?"
Mamoru listened, and soon thought he could make out a quiet scratching sound, followed by a low squeaking. "Maybe there's a rat."
Usagi paled, her eyes widening drastically. "A RAT?" she screamed, and once more launched herself into his arms, her legs and arms clutched around him.
His arms wasted no time in holding her against him as Mamoru looked up into her startled face, unconsciously licking his lips. As she looked down on him, the terror quickly melted away, her thoughts again filling with his scent, his touch, his taste...
"Odango-chan," he murmured huskily, his breath tickling her mouth and chin. "Are rats scarier than spiders?"
She somehow managed the slightest nod, before Mamoru leaned forward, capturing her lips passionately against his.
With a quiet, almost inaudible moan, she returned the kiss with fervor. Her fingers entangled themselves in his hair, her lips yearning for his touch. In the back of her thoughts, she felt him fall back against the door for support, before sliding down to the floor with her still straddling his lap. Neither noticed, too full of each other's taste and the exploding sensations of a breathless, passionate kiss.
...
Emily and Motoki each stood with their ears pressed against the wooden door.
"What's going on in there?" Motoki hissed.
Shrugging, Emily answered. "Dunno. Last I heard was Usagi calling him a rat, and then there was a thud, and it sounded like someone sliding against the door." She paused. "Maybe she clobbered him."
Motoki frowned, eyeing the door suspiciously.
"I know what they'd be doing if this was a fanfic," Emily continued slyly to herself.
"A what?"
"Never mind. Maybe we should check up on them?"
...
At the sound of keys in the doorknob, Usagi suddenly felt herself being painfully jerked back to reality. With a lightning-quick movement, she had pulled herself away from Mamoru's lips, despite his groan of protest, and flung herself against the far wall.
Opening the closet door, Emily and Motoki saw Mamoru sitting before them and Usagi pressed almost frightfully against the back. Both were breathing heavily with slightly disheveled hair and clothing.
"How are you two doing in here?" Motoki asked suspiciously.
"I think we need more time," Mamoru said in a dark, sultry, yet very serious tone, gazing up at Usagi through heavy lashes.
Motoki and Emily each simultaneously quirked an eyebrow.
"No," said Usagi breathlessly, "I think we most certainly do NOT need anymore time." Quickly, she brushed past Mamoru, squeezing through her captors. Emily noticed her shaking, her legs wobbling slightly, as she grabbed her book bag off of a stool and walked quickly out of the arcade.
Looking back at Mamoru, Emily realized he, too, was trembling, though not as badly. "What happened?" she asked bewilderedly.
With a groan, Mamoru ran a distressed hand through his hair and slowly got to his feet. "Nothing," he spat, walking past them without looking at either. He walked from the arcade, looking distraught and distracted, and headed the opposite direction from Usagi.
Motoki and Emily gawked at each other a long, silent moment, before Motoki slowly shut the closet door.
"What do you suppose...?"
"I haven't a clue. But... at least they didn't kill each other."
Motoki grinned. "Heck, at least they didn't kill us."
"Good point."
"Well, we gave it a good shot. I guess it wasn't meant to be, after all."
Emily frowned, considering the possibility. Maybe they really did love each other only because they're the prince and princess, she thought. Maybe if they'd never discovered their past identities, they never would have gotten together. Maybe… maybe fate wants nothing to do with them because their love isn't real after all. Maybe it was all fake—an act to keep up appearances. Both of them just so desperately wanting somebody to love, and being told that it was destiny made the decision so easy to make. Maybe Mamoru's really supposed to love Rei, or Setsuna, or even Ann. Maybe Usagi's really supposed to love Seiya…
Emily cringed with the thought and shook her head. No. That simply can't be right. I refuse to believe that their love isn't pure and perfect. Because if they're not really in love, where's the hope for the rest of us?
With a relieved sigh, her doubts forgotten, Emily walked around the counter and climbed onto a stool. "Oh, you give up way too easily."
"You can't tell me you're still going to try and play matchmaker after that display."
"My friend, you are talking to Sailor Cupid, here."
"Sailor Who?"
"And I have another idea up my sleeve. But I'm going to need your help."
He raised an eyebrow, seemingly contemplating her request for a moment, before sighing and leaning down on the counter conspiratorially. "Well, what's the idea?"
"Are you free tomorrow morning?"
"I have to be here by one."
"Uh-huh... and, do you think you could get Mamoru over to that festival that's going on downtown?"
"I might... Why?"
Emily grinned. "You see... I know of this fortuneteller..."
...
Yumeno Yumemi drew her brush across the canvas with one last broad stroke of crimson, then stepped back to eye the portrait with a quizzical eye. With a sigh, she wiped a sleeve across her paint-splattered forehead. She tilted her head from side to side, squinting through her thick glasses, before hesitantly putting her brush down on the palette.
"I guess that's it for tonight," she muttered. "Still… there's something not… quite… right." She eyed the painting a little longer, before shaking her head. "But I can't put my finger on it!"
"The shadows should be darker."
Yumemi spun around with a gasp to see a tall woman with short blonde hair before her. "Who are you? How did you get in here? The studio closes at 9:00."
The woman ignored her and approached the canvas, then gestured at it with two fingers. "Right through here, the shadows are too light. There isn't enough contrast. It would be a lot more powerful if you intensified these gray areas, and maybe enhanced the brightness on these surfaces." The woman stepped back again and folded her arms, her eyes glued to the painting, before nodding. "That's what's missing."
Yumemi tore her eyes away from the woman and looked at the painting again, visualizing the suggestions, before a slow smile crossed her lips. "You know, I think you're right. Thank you. Are you an artist?"
"You're welcome. And no, I'm a warrior." The woman turned in her boots to smile kindly at Yumemi's confused expression. "And now that I've helped you, I was hoping you could help me with something."
Flustered, Yumemi tried to return the grin. "Oh, um, sure. Anything."
Sailoruranus's smile widened as a glowing sword emerged on the invisible strands of the air. "I was hoping you would say that."
...
xoxo
Alicia