A/N: Kon'wa! Jikkan-chan desu — hehe, ohisashiburi desu, ne? (It's been a long time, hasn't it?) Jikkan-chan has just started her trig classes, and is a bit behind on her homework because her textbook took so long to arrive, so she didn't do so very much of this chapter as she would have liked — but Arashi-chan came through like the trooper she is!

There've been a lot of questions and comments in our reviews about our Japanese policy and why we spell certain things the way we do. For the Japanese, Arashi-chan wants to learn, and Jikkan-chan needs to teach to keep her comprehension level up; each word that appears in a story will appear in a chapter glossary of that story exactly once. If we don't translate it in the glossary, that means we think it might be fun if you find out what it means yourself /grin/ – don't worry, our Easter Eggs are generally not essential to the plot. /only slightly evil smile/

'Sailormoon', etc, is something Jikkan-chan saw in her raw manga volumes; she found it charming and immediately adopted it as a conceit. She has an argument if anyone's interested, to the tune of the use of katakana in loanwords in general and Takeuchi-sensei's in specific, but in the end, it comes down to this: Naoko-sama did it first, and Jikkan-chan thought it looked neat. /waves poetic license about/

This chapter — Jikkan-chan's favourite so far — is dedicated to all our reviewers, most especially Insanity's Whore, who gave us our 200th review and defended us with such great enthusiasm. Domo arigatou gozaimasu, Insanity-san!

A note by Arashi-chan: REVIEW/grin/ We're aiming for 225 to 230 reviews this time. /begs/ Help us?

Kakera ni Tsukiakari

A Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon fanstory by Arashinobara Jikkankakyoku

VII – Senmou ni Yume Wa Tan?

Of Delirium in Dreams

'When we were selected by the Mother Gaia to guard and watch her son, we were given names in accordance to our qualities and station. Jadeite, of laughter and nurturing warmth, is the Healer, though his bedside manner leaves much to be desired… Zoicite the Comet, of cool logic and quick mind when faced with fire's threat, is the Strategist, but every bit as hot-headed as our Sun brother. Star Lord Nephrite, of benevolent watching and mystic strength, is the Sage… and I? I am the Empty Heaven King; the Blademaster, the commander who is trusted to make decisions no man should make – but we are not men. We have always been much, much more – such was my Lady's intention, and so it shall be.'

– Kunzite the Blademaster; Space Shitennou of the Four Brothers

Mamoru held Usagi's struggling, convulsing body to his chest. Though she had stopped screaming when he had picked her up in an attempt to soothe her, she jerked against his tight embrace and his cheek stung from where her hand had flailed out and scratched him. Pressing his forehead to Usagi's flushed face, Mamoru noted with growing alarm that her temperature was warmer than usual, and he swore that even as he kicked open the bathroom door and turned on the cold water tap with a fumbling hand, she was heating up by the second.

"Tenshiko," Mamoru began, and cleared his throat as he felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. He shook Usagi's jerking form lightly, ducking a slap. Rubbing her back in gentle circles, he spoke above the running water. "Tenshiko, little angel, wake up…" A hand came up to push errant bangs away from concerned sapphire eyes – remembering the unearthly shade of silver Usagi's eyes had been when she had screamed so loudly, their owner was half-afraid she would obey. "Onegai, for Mamo-chan?"

Usagi whimpered, and squirmed unhappily in his grasp. "Iie!" the blonde's shriek echoed off the porcelain tiles, and her fair skin was flushed a bright pink. "Doushite? Iie…" Usagi's words were cut off abruptly as she kicked violently, and Mamoru could only tighten his hold on her for fear that she might do herself harm – and the fever was still escalating! 'Delirium,' he thought faintly, even as her next scream wiped all thought from his mind. "Endymion!" she wailed, and then she was sobbing into his shirt, pressing close as she clung to him and her pain made something in her dark-haired friend's chest constrict painfully.

Mamoru closed his eyes, feeling her continue to cry and tilting her face towards his to place a tiny kiss on the end of her nose. "Hush, hush, little one," he whispered in her ear, and she stilled for a moment before going rigid.

"You have slain my sisters and my people," her voice was strong, and Mamoru tried to ignore the way his skin prickled warningly at her defiant tone. "You have destroyed my homeland and poisoned the minds of my beloved's brothers… you have taken my Endymion from me…" there was a pause, in which Mamoru relaxed his hold on her a little, and then Usagi's voice rang out again.

"But you shall never triumph over me! There is little satisfaction and no honour in killing a dead body – beloved sisters, Endymion-koishii… I come…" she fell silent then, limp and boneless in his arms, and only the frantic pulse fluttering in her white throat reassured a horror-stricken Mamoru that she was alive…

And then he was suddenly engulfed by a rage that was his and not his at once – and an emotion all-too-familiar, though he could not quite name it.

Jealousy, a cruel voice somewhere in the back of his head sneered. You've always been jealous – of Motoki… of Naru, even, though you know Usagi would hardly love them more than you. You've always been a dog in the manger, Chiba Mamoru… and now she's talking suicide and burning up with fever! And you have the audacity to be jealous of a man who doesn't exist –

'That's enough,' he told it firmly, but his hands were shaking as he removed the sweat-soaked long shirt he had dressed her in for sleeping in before he paused. "Kami-sama," he muttered, staring at her underwear. He lifted a bra-strap experimentally and hastily withdrew the offending hand. He'd taken showers and baths with her before when they were younger, and there was that time they went skinny-dipping in the lake near the mountain resort Mamoru had taken her for last year's birthday surprise…

Squeezing his eyes shut determinedly, Mamoru turned the murmuring girl over and attempted to undo the clasp on the undergarment – only to open them again half a minute later when the damned thing simply would. Not. Come. Off! How did girls wear these things, anyway? Mamoru had the feeling that were the situation not so dire, and he himself almost panicking at their predicament, he would be laughing hysterically at his own ineptitude.

Finally losing patience and simply pulling the stubborn… thing… over her head, Mamoru averted his eyes hastily from the expanse of flushed, bare skin and removed her knickers as well before picking his very naked best friend up and lowering her carefully into the tub of cold water. It was half-full, and he turned the faucets off, cast Usagi an anxious look and darted into the kitchen to retrieve some cold apple juice from the fridge, diluting it heavily. Some went into the bathwater, but she swallowed most of it, licking parched lips as her eyes slid closed and she began to shiver.

"Endy," she whispered, struggling feebly and turning blank eyes to meet Mamoru's suddenly anguished ones. "Why is it so cold, Endy?"

"I'm here, Tenshiko," the older boy cupped her face and tried to communicate something, anything, to his delirious friend. "Mamo-chan's here…" 'Strength, perhaps?' Was that what he wished to her? But Tenshiko was already strong… Only you don't want her to be, do you, Chiba Mamoru? The knight in shining armour…

"Shut up!" he shouted, and only when Usagi flinched beneath his fingertips did he realise he had spoken aloud. "Oh, damn…" Removing his shirt, which was beginning to chafe at his skin, Mamoru leaned forward to pick up a soft face-towel, wetting it and pressing it lightly to her forehead. "Don't be scared; never be scared, not of Mamo-chan…"

"'m not," he heard her whisper; Mamoru couldn't help the grin that lit up his face, and he sighed in relief when he realised she was sleeping peacefully.

When Usagi's fever broke several hours later, Mamoru washed her unbound hair and the rest of her as best as he could without blushing fit to light up all of Japan from Kyushu to Hokkaido. He studiously avoided the secret place between her legs, but scoured the sweat from the rest of her body before bundling her up into a towel and selecting yet another of his old shirts for her to wear.

When he pulled her previously-injured arm carefully through the sleeve of the makeshift nightgown, he saw that the streaks had not faded at all, but spread further up her arm, though her hand and wrist was free of the blackness.

Frowning darkly, Mamoru looked at the king-size bed, on which Usagi looked very lonely, and back towards the pile of blankets that had served as a pallet of sorts. Chuckling wryly, Mamoru slipped under the covers next to Usagi, grinning broadly as a small hand grabbed at his shirt, a small body cuddling up to his. Wrapping his arms around her, he settled back and wondered what he would tell Kenji-papa and Ikuko-mama when Usagi didn't show up for school.

Osaka Naru was not a person ordinarily given to worry.

As she saw it, she had no particular cause; she had a relatively privileged life, good friends, good prospects, and a relationship with her mother so close that she had never really noticed the lack of a father figure in her life; whatever the reasons for his absence, they did not seem to trouble Osaka Hariko, and thus never troubled Naru.

But just a few weeks ago, that had changed — her mother had been attacked and replaced, her own home under siege, herself and her best friend threatened, said best friend utterly gone one moment and fainting the next…

…and suddenly Naru found herself with a cornucopia of troubles; she might not have been any sort of worrier in the past — 'but with all this practice,' Naru said to herself with a certain amount of grim humour (also something heretofore unknown that she was becoming skilful in with distressing rapidity), 'they'll be having me fret for Japan…'

"Mamoru-kun hasn't been to school," Motoki said tersely; the rest of the Oak Grove Lunch-gumi nodded a little worriedly around him.

'And here we find my fellow champion.' "He's looking after Usagi," Naru told them, settling under the tree and smoothing out her skirt. "I called her mother after first period."

Her statement was greeted by the expected chorus of surprise; Asanuma's only stood out because, after Saori (who had never raised her voice in her life), he had the highest pitch. "He's looking after Usagi-chan?" the junior blurted. "What happened?"

"An awfully high fever, according to Tsukino-san," Naru told them, opening her bentou. "She was staying the night —"

Motoki's expression abruptly went from 'concerned elder brother and best friend' to 'murderous elder brother'. "Usagi-chan was all alone? At his apartment? I'll —" At that point, the facts seemed to catch up with his brain, and he deflated just as rapidly.

'And that would be 'Toki-kun remembering that Mamoru-san has held claim to the position of Usagi's Overprotective Older Brother for longer than our favourite soda jerk has even known she's alive.'

Kobayashi broke the sudden quiet with a loud guffaw. "Mamoru-senpai is giving his little angel some Tender Loving Care!" he sing-songed with a lecherous leer.

A smirk bloomed on his best friend's face and the emerald-eyed blond struck a pose. "If she's got a fever then I bet he gave her a spo-o-onge ba-a-ath!" Asanuma cackled, and Naru resisted the urge to giggle though her conscience reprimanded her.

Surprisingly, it was Ami, quiet, shy, withdrawn Mizuno Ami who cuffed Asanuma upside the head with a dainty hand as she came up, an unfamiliar blonde in tow. She blushed furiously as several pairs of eyes fell upon her. "He shouldn't speak of Usagi-sa – Usagi-chan like that," she protested, and there was a yelp as Saori 'accidentally' dropped her very thick, very heavy unabridged Japanese-English dictionary on Kobayashi's foot.

"Agreed," Saori's lips twitched into a rare smile, and she ignored Kobayashi's subsequent, dramatic swoon into a recovered Asanuma's waiting arms. Smoothing out her pleated skirt and replacing her dictionary in her knapsack, she looked carefully at her companions. "Now, has anyone taken notes for the two of them? The school has high expectations for Mamoru-san, and skipping it to take care of a friend, though admirable, could go either way in their opinion of him, depending on whether or not he keeps up with his studies."

At her hint, Naru, Ami and Motoki produced several stapled-together papers for her inspection, and Saori nodded in approval at Ami's neat writing and labelled diagrams. "Which classes do you have with Usagi-chan, Ami-chan?"

"I had English and Geography," the bluenette smiled, uncommonly pleased with herself and her foresight, though her cheeks coloured afterwards. "Demo, there's an upcoming pre-test on Geographic regions in Japan, and a worksheet to complete."

Naru blushed. "I had English with Usagi too, but my notes aren't as good, so Ami-chan took them… Oh, and math class. No homework assignments, just review for a trigonometry quiz."

Saori looked over Naru's notes critically, but pronounced them competent. "And you, Motoki-senpai?"

Motoki handed them over sheepishly, and Saori sweatdropped. "Ah… I'll take these for now," she muttered, and the sheaf of wrinkled papers and chicken-scratch disappeared into her briefcase before she stood. "I've got a meeting with the student council, now, since Mamoru-san isn't there. Don't get into too much trouble," she paused a little here, and the group saw her shrug slightly. "Kobayashi-kun, don't be late for Law class." With that, she strode off, adjusting the strap of her knapsack on her shoulder.

Everyone turned to grin at Kobayashi, and the redhead shifted uncomfortably. "Nani? Why are you looking at me?" Looking a little desperate, he looked over Ami's shoulder and blinked. "Oy, who's your friend, Ami-chan?"

Ami flushed, realising that Minako had been listening in amused silence to the entire exchange from the moment they had walked up to the group and Ami hit Asanuma for his impudence. She shot a quick look at the golden-haired girl, who smiled reassuringly at the bluenette in return. "Minna-san, this is Aino Minako – she's in my grade and is an exchange student from England. Minna, meet Minako, Minako, minna."

The blonde bowed, and the others returned it, if a little belatedly. "Aino Minako?" Asanuma and Kobayashi shot each other gleeful glances. "You're that girl who plays Sailor V, aren't you?"

"Damned shame Usagi-chan isn't here – you're her idol."

Minako laughed. "Domo," she answered, "demo, you might say I'm retired now." She and Ami exchanged meaningful looks.

Motoki was scrutinising Minako with a curious air. "She looks a lot like Usagi-chan, actually," he commented. "Could be a long-lost sister for all we know."

"I'm an only child, sorry," Minako winked, and Motoki blushed a little as he realised he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "Iie, it's okay," she added when he opened his mouth to apologise. Shrugging, Motoki sat down again and offered some rice dumplings to a hungry-looking Asanuma.

"Anou… Ami-chan and Naru-chan, if you give me Usagi's notes I can drop them off with Mamoru-kun when I stop by to give him his," Motoki offered graciously before a large sweatdrop appeared on the side of his head. "Once I get them back from Saori-san, that is," he muttered. The group sniggered collectively and Ami shifted hopefully.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'd like to check up on Usagi-chan myself," she fretted worriedly, and Naru nodded in agreement.

Kobayashi let out an excited whoop. "You've never been to Mamoru-senpai's flat yet, have you? Kami-sama, it's big, it's well-furnished –"

"It's disgustingly tidy," Asanuma finished with a wicked grin. "We have so much fun threatening to trash the place until Mamoru-kun chases us off with a frying pan — still wearing that frilly apron Usagi-chan made him."

Ami blinked and couldn't hold back a smile. The bluenette could hardly imagine the serious and admired Chiba Mamoru doing such a thing, but then an image of the upperclassman in question wearing a lacy apron and yelling threats at a retreating Kobayashi and Asanuma while wielding a ladle in one hand and a cast-iron skillet in the other appeared in her mind. Ami stifled a giggle only by dint of much effort.

It was settled. Kobayashi would get the notes back from Saori when he saw her in Law class later and the rest of the gang – plus Minako – would come along with Motoki to drop them off. Minako didn't mind being 'used' to cheer Usagi up. Indeed, after listening to tales of how enamoured the younger blonde had been with Sailor V when younger, Minako would probably have begged to meet the girl that the entire group spoke with such enthusiasm about.

Motoki covered his eyes with a hand. "Kami-sama, Mamoru-kun is going to kill me," he mourned, looking at his companions and counting them off. "Aino-san, Ami-chan, Naru-chan, Kobayashi-kun, Asanuma-kun… and me. That's six people coming along!"

By the time school had ended, the group of six became a party of eight; Saori had insisted on coming along to fill Mamoru in on the student council news, and Reika, after Motoki had called her to apologise and explain why he might be late to their date to the movies, had greatly surprised her Knight of Soda Water by meeting them on a corner four blocks away from their goal.

"Kon'wa, 'Toki-chan, minna-san!" she said brightly, forestalling her boyfriend's inquiries by shoving an enormous bag into his hands. "Carry that for me, please? It's a bit heavy…"

"I noticed!" Motoki grumped cheerfully, adjusting his balance. "What've you got in here, bricks?"

"Cookies," she said merrily, blithely ignoring his tease.

"Cookies?" the blonde asked incredulously. "How many did you make, fifty dozen?"

"No, only three — and some pastries, a big thermos of chicken soup, some cream cakes — well, there should be cream cakes; one never knows around Kinomoto-san…"

He boggled at his girlfriend. "Where — why —"

"Home Econ.," Reika explained. "Kinomoto-san heard part of our conversation, and convinced Sensei that we should have a class on food gifts one makes when coming to another's home, especially if they're sick. Everyone was very enthusiastic."

"I don't think 'enthusiastic' is quite the word, Reika-chan," Motoki mumbled. "Mamoru-kun won't have to cook for a week…"

Most of those assembled snickered. Introductions were made, and the party continued.

"I hope that Usagi-chan isn't feeling too ill for guests," Ami-chan observed as they signed in with the concierge and made their way to the lifts. "Bad enough already that we're coming unannounced and without a greeting gift…"

"Ne, it's fine, Ami-san," Reika said reassuringly. "There's more than enough in the bag for things like that, and Mamoru-san won't mind as long as we can manage to cheer Usagi-chan up."

"Mamoru-senpai wouldn't mind a kitsune shaving him bald as long as it made Usagi-chan laugh," Asanuma muttered. "We've got nothing to worry about."

The lift disgorged them, and Motoki led the curious little throng down the hall.

"Wonder if he's awake yet?" Motoki mused, ringing the doorbell. "I got voicemail when I called earlier, so I assume he must have slept through the phone…"

"I wonder if I should be telling Furuhata-san to get his handkerchiefs ready?" Minako murmured in Ami's ear. "If Chiba-san is so focused on her emotions, then making her cry and not knowing what he did wrong might well kill him."

Ami considered this, but any reply she might have made was lost as Mamoru opened the door. "Eh? Motoki-kun?… and Reika-san … and a whole horde of guests. Tenshiko will be delighted to know she's so popular — what're you all staring at?"

'What' was the upperclassman's current state of dress, or rather, lack thereof. It was really a perfectly proper house robe, serviceable and modest, but in its current state — draped over an otherwise unclad-save-for-boxers Chiba Mamoru and only loosely tied — it left very little to the imagination.

Minako smirked appreciatively. "Swim team captain, I think you said?" she whispered in Ami's ear.

"Ah — hai," Ami said faintly, going rather pink.

Although the boys remained pleasantly oblivious to the ogling the girls were doing from behind their backs, Mamoru had obviously caught their exchange, for he turned a most becoming shade of scarlet and shut the door in their faces, muttering something about how he should have learned to look in the mirror before coming to the door, especially after that incident with the shaving cream, the neighbour and the towel –

Motoki shrugged and simply opened the door again; so harried was Mamoru, he had forgotten to lock it. "Make yourselves comfortable," the arcade manager said with a grin. "I'm sure the mother hen will let us see her – erm, his eggchick when he has finished finding something better than 'nothing' to wear."

Several of the assembled snorted at the terrible pun, but the others set to work on the mound of cookies Reika and her class had made. "Sugoi! I think I'm in love," Minako sighed as she sank gratefully into an overstuffed armchair, blissfully inhaling the scent of aged leather as Asanuma and Kobayashi skipped off to the balcony, cackling. Ami merely sat primly on the edge of her seat, exchanging meaningful glances with Naru and Reika.

"Crazy boys," was Saori's muttered conclusion, and all the present females, Minako included, nodded in fervent agreement.

Motoki was puttering around the kitchen, shooting occasional glances at the once-plain powder-blue apron Tsukino Ikuko had gotten Mamoru – to which hand-knitted lace had been lovingly, if slightly amateurishly, added – hanging in the 'hook of honour' alongside a full-body apron and several oven mitts. Shaking his head in amusement, Motoki poured the chicken soup from the thermos into an empty pan, adding more water, chicken-powder, chopped celery and sliced tomatoes to it as he did so.

That was when Mamoru poked his head around the frame of the bedroom door, having recovered from his earlier embarrassment and dressed in a loose T-shirt and sweats. "Tenshiko's awake," he informed them with a tiny scowl. "Careful – she's still really tired."

"Mou, we know the rules, Mamoru-san," Reika teased lightly. "Talking, but not too loud. Looking, but not too intensely. Listening, but not so much that she feels uncomfortable. Touching – maybe a hug."

"And tasting is reserved for Mamoru-senpai!" a muffled male voice called, and Mamoru arched a haughty brow, straightening as he glared at Asanuma and Kobayashi, both of who could have spoken. He opened his mouth, most likely to scold, when a soft inquiry from the bedroom gave him pause. He darted out of sight again and Minako giggled slightly.

"I see what you mean," she murmured to Ami, and the bluenette could not hold in the broad grin.

"Hai, hai – Mamoru-san has eyes only for Usagi-chan, but you just wait! She's very enchanting."

"Whipped," Saori's dry-humoured interjection had the other four girls giggling madly.

"Beyond that," Naru whispered as they stepped into the dimly-lit room.

Reika's expression could only be described as 'starry-eyed'. "It's very cute – but using that word to describe it implies that Usagi-chan is violent."

"Iie," Naru and Ami burst out, and looked at each other before grinning.

Asanuma and Kobayashi, who had observed this conversation with something akin to amusement, were joined by a curious Motoki. "What's with all the laughing?" the elder blond asked.

"They're discussing who'd be the dominant figure in Usagi and Mamoru's marriage bed," Kobayashi smirked, and was promptly brained by Saori's briefcase. 'That girl gets more and more violent everyday,' the swirly-eyed victim thought woozily.

"Are you coming in or not?" Mamoru's sharp prompt had the entire party of eight tumbling hastily into the room.

Mamoru was stroking the pale-looking blonde's hair soothingly as her breath came erratically, and placed a gentle kiss on the very end of her nose when her breathing evened a little. Finally allowing her to sit up, he offered her a cup of apple juice, which she accepted thankfully.

Minako blinked and froze as she set eyes upon the petite figure in Mamoru's huge bed, tucked lovingly in amongst the black and navy bedclothes and black sheets. She inhaled sharply as familiar-but-unfamiliar crystal-blue eyes gazed blearily at her.

"You look like someone I know," Usagi told Minako with a drowsy smile. The addressed blonde smiled, shakily at first, before it unfurled fully on her face.

"Hajimemashite," she greeted, and the word sounded false on her tongue – Mamoru looked up, eyes narrowed, though there was genuine joy in Minako's expression as she clasped the sick girl's hand in both of hers, forgoing the proffered handshake. "Watashi wa Aino Minako desu."

Everyone there could swear that Usagi's eyes sparkled even brighter as she attempted to sit up, fumbling weakly with the covers before accepting Mamoru's supporting hand. "Aino Minako?" the blonde repeated wonderingly. "I'm Tsukino Usagi – and you're my idol, you know," Usagi smiled shyly at the older girl, and Minako just about melted into a puddle of slush.

"Putty in her hands," Kobayashi muttered out of the corner of his mouth, and ducked behind Asanuma to escape Saori's briefcase.

"Usagi-chan has plenty of charm," Asanuma agreed quietly.

"Disarming girl, that one," Reika and Saori nodded, and there was a flicker of a smile on the latter's face.

"Minako-san, how about sharing with us?" Naru asked playfully, and the girls descended on her, even the normally-staid Saori shooing the boys out of the room – a protesting Mamoru had to be dragged out by Motoki – and shoving several pages of perfectly comprehensible, typed up and colour-coded notes at the grumbling, dark-haired senior as she did so.

Taking only a cursory glance at the notes, Mamoru threw them down on the coffee table and stalked into the kitchen area to tend the soup. With a sigh, he tore open a packet of pasta – with unnecessary viciousness – and muttered something about chicken-macaroni soup. Motoki, Asanuma and Kobayashi rolled their eyes at him and called out an invitation to try some cream cake. The offer of goodwill was rebuffed by an amazingly articulate grunt, and Kobayashi smacked Asanuma in the head.

"Ne, nothing to worry about, 'Numa-baka?" the redhead growled.

Asanuma sweatdropped. "Hai – nothing to worry about…" regaining his equilibrium, he got up to stand on a clear spot on the protesting coffee table, posing dramatically – "as long as Mamoru-senpai isn't separated from his koibito – ack!"

A piece of half-cooked celery sailed the necessary six metres from the kitchen island to land unceremoniously in Asanuma's dark-blond hair.

Kobayashi shifted uncertainly. "Erm, 'Numa? I think he heard you…"

Motoki twitched, sweatdropping, and pretended to look at Mamoru's previously-discarded notes in an attempt to pretend obliviousness.

"Ittou, off the table! Set the places for me, too," Mamoru's voice commanded.

"Shh… we better do as he says – 'specially since he used 'Numa's last name…"

"Nah, we only know it's bad when he uses 'Yashi's name, don't we, Seiko-man?"

Kobayashi growled at the mention of his hated surname and began to roll up his sleeves. "I'll give you 'bad', you baka –"

Right about then, there was a small crash accompanied by vicious swearing.

The three boys in the living room rolled their eyes, chortling. "He's cheerful today, isn't he?" a wry female's alto inquired as Saori stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her to shut out the giggles.

"Must be Usagi-chan being here," Motoki shrugged. It was somewhat amusing, really – Mamoru seemed to have about five moods in all. Grumpy: the mood when Usagi-chan wasn't with him. Sulky: the mood when Usagi-chan's time was monopolised by anyone other than himself. Cold: the mood when dealing with bakas and obsessed fangirls. Livid: the mood when Usagi-chan was hurt. Jealous… well, Mamoru-san was most unpredictable when he was jealous.

Then again, most of his mood fluctuations – both positive and negative – were to do with Usagi-chan. Otherwise, he was nigamushi no Mamoru – Mamoru of the Sour Face. 'Not really sour, I don't think,' Motoki amended hastily. He grinned to himself as he began to lay out the place-mats and chopsticks. 'More like stone.'

"Chiba Stone-face, that's the one," Asanuma sniggered, and even Saori snorted, Motoki blushing as he realised he'd spoken aloud.

"At least my stone-face is better than your kitsune one," a voice whispered in the blond's ear, and Asanuma leapt about three feet when he realised an amused Mamoru was standing behind him. He was only really in trouble if – yes, there was the apron – and there was the frying pan.

"It's a skillet, baka," Mamoru's mood was uncommonly light, but the strange look in his eyes did not bode well for the flippant-natured junior. "Cast-iron. Care to repeat that something about my face?"

"Iie, iie! It's a very nice face, Mamoru-san," Asanuma babbled, turning green. He muttered something about the washroom and a date with the porcelain goddess as he whizzed out of the room, the wind from his speedy movement ruffling Mamoru's dark bangs. Saori rolled her eyes again and re-entered the bedroom.

"What do you think they're doing in there?" Motoki questioned, yelping as the hot bowl burned his fingers. He set the soup down hastily and sucked the injured finger as Kobayashi brought in two more bowls.

The irrepressible redhead grimaced. "Whatever it is, there's bound to be a ton of serotonin and oestrogen flying around – don't go in there or your balls will mutate or something."

That earned him a light smack from Mamoru by the blunt end of a ladle as he set down the small basin of pasta next to the soup before the doorbell rang and he disappeared off to answer it, returning with several trays of sushi and sashimi.

"The wonders of free delivery!" Kobayashi joked as Asanuma exited the bathroom and plopped onto Mamoru's favourite reading chair, earning him an exasperated glower by the young man in question. Gulping, he got up and sat in the leather love-seat instead, grabbing a random manga volume from the small pile at the foot of Usagi's rocking chair next to the large fireplace.

"Why so much food now, Mamoru-senpai?" Kobayashi inquired idly, flinching back as a skilfully-wielded spatula by Motoki came down squarely where his hand been inching towards the spicy-tuna rolls just seconds before.

"I didn't eat today and Tenshiko eats enough for the both of us," Mamoru's tone was fond as he set down a large bowl of rice, but his expression soured abruptly as he cast another dark look at the closed bedroom door.

"Sushi, Mamoru-kun?" Asanuma teased. "Aren't you supposed to be muffling her in goose down and feeding her crackers and plain congee and diluted fruit juice?"

"'Numa no baka," Motoki snorted, "everyone knows that Usagi-chan will bat her eyes and pout at Mamoru-kun, and there will be a big puddle of Mamoru-kun-mush on the floor, and the tasteless rice porridge will be down the sink."

Mamoru's cheeks pinked, but as usual, he did not make any attempt to deny this accusation. "I wouldn't put her up in bed with plain congee… I'd put some chicken in it…"

"See?" Mamoru sighed as Asanuma stole a piece of octopus sashimi, earning a cry of outrage from Kobayashi, who had failed to capture a single piece of the coveted spicy-tuna sushi for the last five minutes he had been trying.

Mamoru sank onto a stool by the counter and sighed. "Besides," he muttered, "you lot will clean me out as it is."

"That's because we love you, Mamoru-kun," Motoki said gaily, slinging an arm about the drooping senior's shoulders. "And should someone tell the girls that it's time to eat? Though why you waited until four in the afternoon to have lunch…"

"Hai, I'll do that… and Usagi's eaten several times – it's just my turn."

"Meaning," Asanuma smirked as he grabbed a spoon, "that Usagi-chan is awake enough now to notice that her Mamoru no tenshi hasn't eaten yet."

The dark-haired young man ignored the jokester and stood up abruptly, knocked briefly on the bedroom door and entered when Usagi's voice acknowledged his presence.

The only sounds when he had left were of Asanuma gorging himself on the improvised chicken-noodle soup. Motoki felt a large sweatdrop slide down the side of his head as Kobayashi spoke through a mouthful of squid. "He's not going to get his testicles mutated, is he?"

"'Yashi-my-man, Mamoru-senpai's got balls of brass," Asanuma said between bites. "Don't be too worried about him."

"Yeah, but oestrogen's a dangerous substance," the redhead muttered. "I should know; bloody sisters –"

"Quite literally," Asanuma grimaced. "It should be made illegal."

When Motoki felt as if he couldn't take the chauvinistic jokes anymore, he made a comment of his own. "Does that mean you'd rather have a testosterone-filled female instead of someone like Reika or Usagi-chan?" There was a short silence in which a sweatdrop appeared on the heads of the other two boys present. "Iie, I didn't think so."

"You're killing yourself, Neph," Zoicite snapped. "Locking yourself in a room full of youma eggs and using your own lifeblood – the lifeblood She gave us – and playing that damned flute all day –"

"It's a piccolo," Nephrite said, lifting the aforementioned instrument to his lips as another three drops of golden-red blood seeped into the black globe and a thin melody that put one in mind of the cold iron of a graveyard's fence shrilled forth, undulating and uncoiling ever-so-darkly. Shaking his head in disgust, Zoicite exited the dark chambers and left the Star King to pipe to life a skeletal man with a steer's skull for a head.

Its unseeing eyes glowed a sickly red as the grisly apparition bowed, joints creaking as his tattered cloak fluttered briefly and a flash of something glittered across a scythe's dark blade.

"My Lord," it said, and the skull's voice was the creak of an ancient hinge come unwillingly to life.

Nephrite's eyes were almost feverish in their intensity, and anyone who had cared to notice at the time would have seen that the green-blue shade they had been scarce a full day and night ago had darkened ominously, if subtly. "Ohitsujiza," the auburn-haired mage acknowledged.

Aries come on an autumn day, the globes chimed, and Pisces smiled as she nodded to her brother. And Pisces the Siren-souled with the Voice of tainted, tarnished silver…

Nephrite shuddered and dragged a hand through sweat-matted auburn hair as he surveyed his two subjects. "I can do no more," he whispered before his voice firmed. "Not today, at least." He turned to Pisces and Aries and gave them a fond half-smile. "Tomorrow, the Minotaur joins us."

The heavy door swung shut with a dull finality.

"Mamo-chan!" Usagi had not been this relieved to see him in a long time; her eyes were full of panic and amusement at her own predicament. She held out her arms and he gave her a lingering hug.

"Daijoubu desu ka, Tenshiko?" he whispered huskily into her ear, placing a chaste kiss directly on her temple.

"Daijoubu, Mamo-chan," Usagi smiled up at him. The girls had been relentless in their questioning, and when Naru, ever blunt, had asked her why she wasn't wearing a bra… Usagi shuddered. It hadn't been all that harmful, really – just a little embarrassing. "I don't suppose there's any food you might give to your starving patient?"

"Salmon and tuna don – your favourite," her friend answered with a grin at her complaint, pushing her back down as she attempted to sit up. "Iie, you're still weak – let's get some soup into you first." Ignoring her protests, he lifted her easily, blankets and all, to stride out of the bedroom and put her in her chair, disappearing off to the kitchen to get her some rice to go with the sashimi.

"Is he always this golden to you?" an amused voice said in Usagi's ear. Suppressing the urge to yelp in surprise, the blonde looked up to gaze into a face very much like her own.

"Mina-chan!" she beamed before answering. "Hai, Mamo-chan's very sweet and kind… and we look after each other," Usagi finished solemnly before giving her new friend a conspiratorial wink.

Minako grinned, plopping down on the floor next to Usagi's rocking chair. "I'll bet you do," the older girl answered with a droll roll of her eyes. She lowered her voice and leaned close again. "Did you see him naked when you gave him a sponge-bath, then?"

Usagi buried her face in her hands in embarrassment, but found herself trying to stop the faint smile from unfurling across her features; Minako's laughter really was infectious. "Hai," she said, perfectly straight-faced. "It was a very memorial occasion, considering he was passed out and incoherent. When he woke up, he thought I was some girl he'd met at a karaoke bar a few months prior, and was very… uneasy to see me, and…"

Minako got to her knees, eyes eager and ears pricked. "And?"

"And I sure had you fooled there, didn't I?"

The other eight in the apartment, startled, looked up from their conversations and food as Minako burst out into full-throated laughter, her mirth accompanied by Usagi's quieter giggles.

"Must be the oestrogen," Kobayashi muttered, and was rewarded by a threatening glare from Saori, who was standing scarce three feet from him.

"To you, 'Yashi-kun, everything is about the oestrogen," Asanuma and Motoki chorused, before the former laughed and the latter, buoyed by his arcade-manager habits, went to ladle out soup for everyone, placing one on a tray for Usagi.

"Usagi-chan, food. Mamoru-kun's held up in the kitchen; I'll go check on him, ne?"

"Domo, Motoki-niichan – you know Mamo-chan is simply incapable of taking care of himself around pointy objects and hot water, ne?" Usagi teased, her voice pitched to carry to the other side of the room. As if to confirm her statement, there was another crash of pots, plates and cutlery, and what sounded to be a loudly-spoken curse cut off mid-word.

Motoki winked at his friend and waved to Minako, who had signalled to him that she was going to get some sushi. "Hai, I know – Mamoru couldn't find his way around the shallow end of a swimming pool if he didn't have a float to hold his eyes above the waterline," he responded, just as loudly, and a tousled head poked up from behind the bar-style counter, a hostile look on its face, though the midnight eyes were grudgingly amused.

"Motoki-kun, if you would like yourself not to be drowned by the swim team captain next time you go anywhere near a pond, lake or puddle, then get over here and help me clean up this mess you made in the microwave!"

"Mou, why so arrogant, Chiba-san?" Motoki called back, and was answered by an exasperated glare. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" the blond turned to Usagi, who had closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Usagi-chan?" she opened her eyes and accepted the tray from him with a faint smile. "Daijoubu desu ka?"

"Anou… hai, just a little tired," the younger girl replied, but her hand was trembling ever-so-slightly as she raised the spoon to her mouth, and Motoki took the tray back from her with a frown.

"Iie, matte – it would be a pity if you scalded yourself with hot soup because you can't hold a spoon straight," Motoki shot a reassuring smile at his downcast friend before a frown crossed his face. "Usagi-chan, you're sweating."

The blonde in question gave the normally happy-go-lucky Motoki a wry look. "That's ever-so-flattering of you, 'Toki-niichan."

"I'm serious, Usagi-chan," he countered, bending slightly so that their faces were a scarce six inches apart as he examined the sheen of perspiration and the rest of her face. "Your cheeks are flushed – I thought the fever had broken? – and you… you're wearing a long-sleeved shirt?"

Usagi froze and turned her head deliberately away. "It's very comfortable, and Mamo-chan doesn't have anything shorter," she finally said, referring to the loose button-up and pyjama bottoms she was wearing; both were from Mamoru's pre-teen days. She smiled a little at that thought – he was a shameless packrat.

"I thought your mother came by with some clothes on her way to the airport?" Motoki frowned, and Usagi blanched again.

"I –"

"Motoki-kun, stop prattling and fill the blue plastic basin in the bathroom sink up with cold water while I tuck Tenshiko back in to bed," Mamoru said sharply from behind the blond, causing Motoki to jump in alarm. "Why didn't you tell me that she's getting into a relapse? Did she eat anything?"

"Anou –"

"Do it now, Motoki!" Mamoru snapped, and lifted Usagi from the pile of now-warm blankets as her eyes fluttered shut and her head fell against his shoulder. "Tenshiko!"

"'m tired, Mam'cha," Usagi sighed, and he relaxed as he realised she was only dozing.

"Sleep then, and I'll get you something to eat later, ne?"

"No plain rice-porridge," her muffled voice reached his ears and Mamoru laughed shakily, holding her small form a little tighter as he sat down on the bed, stroking her hair mindlessly and accepting the wash cloth from Motoki with a murmur of thanks.

"Hai, no white congee," he promised, mopping away the sweat on her brow and glaring at all the guests to leave the room. "Unless you want a place on my hit-list, get out!" Mamoru's tone brooked no argument, and they were moving before they knew it, backing hastily away from the two on the bed. There was what sounded to be an argument, several frustrated voices speaking heatedly, and then finally the front door clicking shut.

Sighing as he pressed a cheek to her forehead, Mamoru closed his eyes and winced sympathetically at the temperature. 'Not again,' he thought, and as his mind flashed back to the way he'd had to undress her, colour flooded into his cheeks. 'Not again!'

Smoothing back the hair from her head, he stood again and left to run the bathwater. Returning with a glass of cold water and pleased to note that his guests had placed the left-over sushi and soup neatly on the table, Mamoru heard a violent hacking coming from his bedroom and bit his lip, trotting to a trembling Usagi's side. "Tenshiko?"

He was answered by more coughs, great, dry-sounding ones, but that was when she lifted her hand away from her mouth, and there was something black on it. His heart skipped a beat, and Mamoru felt his breath return to him in a whoosh as it started again, an abnormally loud pounding in his ears. He reached her in two hasty steps, water and ice sloshing over his hand and onto the carpet, and Usagi turned glazed eyes to him before she slipped into unconsciousness.

He had just enough time to register that it was black, bloody phlegm on her hand – black like the streaks that showed on her collarbone where the shirt had slipped over to reveal a slim, white shoulder. "Tenshiko," he whispered, feeling oddly detached, and grabbed the wall for support as a golden power coursed through him, leaving him revitalised and lethargic at once. He stumbled back towards the bed, where his friend lay, before darkness claimed him and a mask slipped over shuttered ocean eyes.

Tuxedo Kamen made as if to exit the now-familiar dwelling, but paused as he realised that no insistent chord tugged at his heartstrings and soul. 'What in the Light's name –' his hand moved to 'draw' his sword as he realised that there were two others in the room, one all too unpleasantly familiar.

Stop, Tuxedo Kamen! a voice shouted in alarm. Don't harm him!

'Endymion?' Kamen questioned warily, eyes still on Jadeite. 'What is this… worm of worms doing here!'

Meanwhile, Jadeite was blissfully unaware of the danger he was in as he examined his garb – a loose-flowing shirt of rough, undyed linen and a pair of black breeches. His black tunic had his personal crest (two white crows perched on a pair of crossed glaives over a golden phoenix on a field of verdant green) embroidered on his left breast, over his heart, and was lined with green wool for warmth. Jadeite struck a pose and preened.

"A millennium since I've had decent clothes, milord," he commented airily, and turned to face a blank-faced Tuxedo Kamen. Taken aback by his prince's silence, the blond nevertheless prattled on. "Those grey uniforms… and that evil red piping… disgusting," he concluded timidly as the younger man's continued silence finally alerted him to the fact that something was wrong. "Endy?" he ventured.

See? He's perfectly harmless. Endymion's tone was insufferably smug.

'I beg to differ,' Kamen argued. 'While you were sleeping, I – and milady – were the victims of his swordsmanship and elemental abilities.'

Yes, well, Jade's no swordsman, Endymion snapped. He's better with pole-arms –

'And that little titbit of information is supposed to reassure me?'

Well… yes…?

At that moment, Tuxedo Kamen was aware that there was an insistent knocking on the side of his head, and he shook his head irritably. "Yoo-hoo, any-royal ho-ome?" Jadeite inquired in a singsong tone. Kamen's hands twitched as he realised it had been Jadeite's fist rapping on his temple. It would be so easy to just reach out and strangle the damn nuisance –

Don't you dare his royal counterpart ordered. By the love of Selene, why did it have to be me who was the figment?

'And just what, pray, is that supposed to mean! For all I know, you do not exist – you are just a bloody voice in my head!'

Endymion let out a low growl and 'launched' himself at Stealth. Gimme that body!

'Light, if you are a true royal, would you not be a little more diplomatic about the matter?' Kamen was beginning to feel the beginnings of a truly memorable migraine as he felt War chasing Stealth about his mind. Was it just him, or was he slowly (but surely) going insane?

I'm not a stuffed shirt like you!

'You are being childish!'

Endymion tripped over a stray thought and came up sputtering, red with indignation.

Me? I am being childish? You are the one who wants to kill my best friend! he bellowed.

'He is the enemy!' Kamen protested as the chase resumed.

And it was back to full circle – until a startled exclamation from a bored Jadeite had everything coming to a screeching halt: "Hey, who's the wench in that there bed?"

Glossary

doushite—Why? For what reason?

minna—'everyone'

kitsune—'fox'; mysterious and mischievous spirits in Japanese folklore, thought to have multiple tails and the ability to take human form at will. There are fifty zillion funny, not-so-funny, and downright horrific stories about kitsune; one of Jikkan-chan's favourites is the tale of a man who was so confused by a fox he challenged that in the end he wound up alone in the middle of a rice field, bald as an egg, with no idea whatsoever of what he had been doing or how he got there.

sugoi—'Wow!' 'Unusual!' 'Amazing!'

nigamushi—making a sour face (as if having consumed a bitter bug)

Ohitsujiza—The constellation Aries

A/N: (Arashi-chan here this time, since Jikkan-chan is too humble and shy!) Okay, so you've read it – now REVIEW!