A/N: Ackness! Sorry for the long and unbroken absence of the A-J pair – we honestly didn't mean it! We were both busy (still are, actually, so don't hold your breath) and Kakera got a block on it, Aika's block is being steadily chipped away at and… whatever.

But we updated! Thanks to Goddessmoon for her telling an ignorant virgin that our couple would have to be human pretzels to pull off positions like that.

… I wasn't supposed to tell you that, was I?

Togewonuku

A Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon fanstory by Arashinobara Jikkankakyoku

III –Kikkyou

Sunshine and Shadow

Usagi woke peacefully, long-lashed eyelids fluttering before the haze of sleep lifted so that crystal blue might look on the world with that much more grace. The girl closed her eyes and sighed before standing, but at the last moment realised she was naked, and clutched the sheet to her impulsively. As she gazed about the room, she fancied she saw brooding colours and smelt roses and rainwater –

– but dark walls melted into light blue ones, roses became lavender, and rainwater eased into spring nights. Loneliness welled up, and Usagi's legs gave way as she curled up instinctively to guard against the hurt. Where was Mamo-chan? The events of the day came rushing back and she recoiled as they jumbled her thoughts; her panic increased, though for what reason she could not fathom.

'Moto Azabu,' Usagi thought grimly, and her hand found clean clothes as she dressed hurriedly. Her haste caused her to fumble, and she bit back an uncharacteristic oath. 'Mamo-chan – I should have stayed awake, dehenshined, gone to look for him!'

Quickly pulling the slender straps over her shoulders, Usagi attempted to fasten the bra's clasp and paused in confusion. 'By the Crystal… what is this!'

"It came as quite the surprise, Usagi-chan," Luna's expression could only be described as droll as she tossed the henshin brooch to her ward, who caught it absently and set it down on the bedside table. "Apparently, you age three years or so when transformed – you're eighteen, nearly nineteen now."

Usagi's expression was incredulous as she examined her body with newfound awe. Eighteen – almost nineteen! Mamo-chan's age – a little older, if you counted the fact that her birthday preceded his. She was taller by almost half a foot; obviously, she'd undergo some kind of growth spurt very soon, and… what was this? There were silvery highlights in her hair! They were barely noticeable, but still there.

"I'm… beautiful," she murmured, wanting to laugh at her own silliness, but still in awe of the girl in the mirror who was so obviously her but not.

"You've always been rather pretty, Usagi," Luna said grudgingly; the Moon cat did not approve of primping, which she believed led to vanity. "Demo… you were going somewhere in a hurry? Your mother just left the house to pick your brother up; she would like to talk to you when she returns."

Usagi sighed wistfully; what would Mamo-chan say if he saw her like this? Of equal age – perhaps not of equal intellect, she acknowledged sourly, but of equal age! If she were to lean against him now, on tiptoe, her chin would fit quite snugly into the crook of his neck. For a moment she was tempted –

– and sighed, releasing the transformation, turning away so that she wouldn't see the way she became fifteen again. "I want to go see Mamo-chan," she said quietly to her watching guardian. "I was going to stay to see if he was okay, Luna-chan; Zoisite actually ignored me to go to the school! What if…"

The cat relented upon seeing her charge's misery. "I'll explain to Ikuko where you've gone, then," she said quietly. "Be back in time for dinner, though, and try not to get, ah, sidetracked."

Usagi nodded absently as she fastened her bra – now able to cup her full, though modest 'B' size – and blinked, turning back to stare at the black feline. "You… you talked to Mama!"

"Anou… hai?" Luna looked sheepish. "And sent Makoto-chan back to school, too, seeing as it would be too suspicious to have her absent."

The blonde blinked as she realised that Mamoru's school would be let out soon – but… what if he wasn't there?

'I'll look for him at home, and maybe wait there until I know he should have been back. Then I'll check at the hospital… or ask Motoki-niichan…' reviewing her options, Usagi bit her lip in consideration. 'Maybe I should wait at his home, and then look at the arcade to see?'

Nodding decisively, she dressed hurriedly in a lilac blouse, pulling the laces tight and adjusting the three-quarter length sleeves before pulling on a pair of new jeans and darting out the door before returning quickly to kiss Luna thankfully on the head. A moment later, the black cat smiled softly as she heard the front door slam. 'Never change, koneko-chan.'

Sailormoon was screaming.

Tuxedo Kamen watched the rise and fall of the whip emotionlessly; behind the stoic façade, Chiba Mamoru fought furiously to be let out. His alter ego merely pulled his cape tighter around him, shuttered eyes blank behind the familiar domino mask – Mamoru shouted all the louder, fists beating against the implacable prison.

There was a bloody gurgle, a final shudder before all was still.

Crimson lightened and attained a metallic sheen – silver blood drip, drip, dripped from worn leather, and flat green eyes continued to hold no expression as Zoisite threw back his head and laughed.

Kamen did not move, though Mamoru begged him, pleaded…

… and Sailormoon's head lolled; the white half-mask fell from staring eyes as argent trickled from the corner of a bloodied mouth.

Mamoru found himself screaming, screaming, screaming as he saw his Usako dead on the ground; as the fuku melted into a gossamer gown of white and gold.

And Tuxedo Kamen walked away, heedless of the agonised cries in his head as a desperate lover continued to beg and sob and curse.

Mamoru woke with a start.

He jumped out of bed and stumbled blindly to the adjoining bathroom; tense fingers left a visible imprint on the metal handle, but he paid it no heed. Mamoru closed the door roughly, flinching at the loud slam it made before all the feeling went out of his legs and he collapsed onto the toilet, realising belatedly that if the pan had not been down, he'd have likely gotten his rear soaked.

The idea, in all its absurdity, seemed to loosen something deep within the teen – almost a man, still a boy – and he leaned forward and laughed. It was mirthless and hysterical and echoed dully off the porcelain walls. He quieted when a put-out neighbour banged the wall next to his head, and instead lapsed into a long silence, holding his face with white-knuckled hands.

The dream… the nightmare! It had been about his Usako – Mamoru's jaw clenched painfully. She had been screaming… and he had… he had what? The details trickled from his mind like water through his hands, but the taste of guilt was sour in his mouth.

So he brushed his teeth.

He brushed them furiously, mindlessly, and only when his gums started to bleed did he stop to stare for a long moment at the wild stranger in the mirror, pink-stained toothpaste foaming about his lips.

'Usako.'

Mamoru rinsed his mouth out hurriedly – he had to find her, had to reassure himself that she was safe…

Spitting out a last, pink-tinged mouthful of water, Mamoru shuddered momentarily as he realised he was still wearing his uniform. The charcoal-grey slacks and white button-up made him feel strangely ill, so he changed hastily into a loose t-shirt and jeans before leaving, pausing only to grab his keys on the way out.

'I'm coming.'

Usagi knocked again, listened intently for any signs of movement, and attempted to quash the worry rising in her. 'The arcade,' she thought hopefully, and turned from the silent apartment door. She would find Mamo-chan, and Mamo-chan would be okay…

Tsukino Ikuko raised a graceful eyebrow and contemplated her companion.

The small black cat licked delicately at one paw, visibly unconcerned.

"And you've no idea where my daughter might be?"

Luna paused in her toilette to give Ikuko a weary smile. "Tsukino-san —"

"Ikuko," that lady interrupted. "You are a member of the household."

Luna blinked up at her, clearly surprised; Ikuko gave her a motherly smile — with perhaps just a hint of amusement — and wondered how the cat had expected to be treated — abused? Ignored? An invisible squatter, borne only on sufferance? Well, there would be none of that in Ikuko's house; if it was loved, it was family, and the neko clearly loved her daughter dearly.

"…Ikuko-san, then," the feline guardian acknowledged after a moment's hesitation. "— Ikuko-san, I have any number of ideas, all leading to the same conclusion —" she spread her paws. "And all of them are worthless."

Ikuko's eyebrows drew together in worry; seeing this, the Moon Cat hastened to add, "There has been no call from the Senshi, and she didn't seem worried when she promised to hurry home." The red eyes narrowed in amusement. "Well, perhaps she might have been worried for one person."

Ikuko allowed herself a giggle. "Sou desu ka? Thank you, Luna-san; you've been very helpful."

"Thank you," Luna said softly. "I could never have presumed —"

"Luna-san," Ikuko said gently, and Luna let her words die away. "Aijou ga itsumo osewa ni natte orimasu." You're always taking care of my daughter.

"…I'm very glad to have met you," the feline said softly, speaking the final words of an introduction that had never really taken place.

Ikuko smiled softly and shut the door behind her, letting her new friend get on with her interrupted bath. How remarkable that her daughter's cat could so closely resemble a woman her own age; how strange that she could accept it so quickly.

'How very unsettling to realise that being told your daughter is looking for the young man you know she's made love to is the reassuring confidence.'

Ikuko made her way down the stairs and gave voice to a weary sigh. She didn't disapprove, per se — hadn't suddenly changed her mind — wouldn't, couldn't begrudge her daughter ('My little world heroine!' she thought rather wildly) a taste of honey in the face of what even she could see was a sea of vinegar —

— but it wasn't only a moment of happiness; it was a whole new can of worms, the prospect of another responsibility to pile on her little Bunny's slender shoulders. It had been one thing when it was 'just Usagi', 'just' her precious darling daughter coming home, well-loved and well-loving and flush with the effects of another step into womanhood; this was — this —

This was no more important, and no less, than it had ever been; Ikuko had always known her firstborn would be a woman of surpassing beauty and import, thinking great thoughts and doing great things, from the moment she looked on the Full Moon after a night with her own true love and felt a quickening in her belly.

Sailormoon was only the first show of it…

…but if only she could know, could meet this young man her dear child loved so much, could see that Usagi was as lucky in this 'Mamoru' as she was in Kenji…

She was brought out of her musings (and how long had she been standing in the middle of the stairs, staring into space?) by a knock on the door. 'Now who could that be?' she wondered. They didn't usually get many visitors at this time of day; the first swell of returning sarariman was just at its crest, and all her fellow housewives would be preparing for the busiest part of their day… a child having kicked its ball into their back yard, perhaps? Little Toshiro-kun seemed to do that three times an hour.

The knocking was becoming slightly more urgent, harder; as if her visitor was a very polite policeman—Ikuko stuffed the thought into a tightly-locked box in the back of her mind and dropped it down a well. She would not borrow trouble, she would not borrow trouble, she would not—

— she was exquisitely relieved to find a tall and well-favoured young man of about seventeen years fidgeting a little nervously upon her doorstep.

"Ah — good afternoon, miss," he said politely, briefly reaching to doff a hat he wasn't wearing. "Er, is your little sister home?"

Ikuko beamed upon him; here was a young man of obvious taste and sagacity. 'Still, even the best must prove their worth,' she thought, and said truthfully, "I'm afraid that I'm an only child."

The young man went rather white. "Er — this isn't the Tsukino residence?"

Ikuko tried very hard not to giggle; young men's egos were so fragile. "Oh, it is; but that doesn't change the fact that you've given me a handsome compliment, or that I'm an only child. I'm Tsukino Ikuko, Usagi's mother," she clasped her hands before her and bowed. "And you are Chiba Mamoru?"

He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before hastily bowing in return. "Hai, Chiba desu. Etou…" Mamoru rubbed at the back of his neck. "Tsukino-san, is Usak — gomen," he corrected himself to speak in the more polite form, "is your daughter home?"

Ikuko gave him a sympathetic smile. "Gomen, Chiba-san, she isn't — in fact," and here she could not resist bending forward conspiratorially, "I'm afraid that she's actually gone looking for you."

His smile was brief, bright, and dazzling. "She is? Please, ma'am, I've got to know, do you have any idea where she might be?"

She tsked gently at him. "Now, I expect you have a better idea than me! I'm only her mother, after all — but I imagine she might try your home, or that park she likes, or perhaps the arcade? Off you go, now, and try to get her back before dark."

"Hai, ma'am!" the boy said gratefully, span on his heel, turned back to make her a deep but hurried bow, and was off down the street as fast as he could pelt.

Usagi's gaze was still searching the crowded arcade as she slid into a seat next to Makoto and Ami, the brunette giving her an enthusiastic wink and thumbs up even as the quieter girl shot her a more restrained, though equally proud smile. Usagi's confusion dissipated as Makoto leaned closer.

"You sure taught them a lesson, didn't you, Usa-chan?" she whispered, squeezing the small girl's hand. "Weakening a huge youma like that… you're getting to be better and better every day!"

Usagi couldn't help it; she rolled her eyes, feeling the tingling of phantom wounds on her back and a faint whispering sensation across her shoulder as she moved it. "You forgot to say that I got my head kicked in," she pointed out wryly. "Without Tuxedo Kamen –"

"And yet, you kept all innocent bystanders safe from harm," Ami interjected, marking her book and setting it aside. She slipped out of her seat and into the booth where Usagi and Makoto were sitting, gesturing for the taller girl to move and continuing to speak even as she probed at Usagi's back with gentle fingers. "Moto Azabu has Sailormoon to thank… and yes, Tuxedo Kamen, too."

Usagi turned, catching a surprised Ami's hands as she looked searchingly at the bluenette. "Are you sure they're all unharmed? Zoisite went after them…" her eyes were fixed deliberately on a point some half-foot above Ami's right shoulder. "And Mamoru-san isn't here. Has he been by today?"

Makoto made an amused sound from behind Usagi's back, but Ami's expression was more of a dismayed thoughtfulness. "Iie… iie, he hasn't," she murmured.

Her brunette counterpart, however, had more important things in mind. "Is your sudden concern for Mamoru-san perhaps –?"

"Mako-chan!" Ami admonished the brunette before Usagi even had the time to blush. "Usagi-chan is merely being concerned, as are we all, I am sure. Be a little more considerate."

Makoto looked ready to protest the chastisement. "Demo –"

"Iie," Ami said firmly, both oblivious to a gradually-reddening Usagi.

"Anou… hai," the blonde muttered, and stood up, almost knocking Ami out of the booth. "Gomen, Ami-chan, I just… perhaps Motoki-niichan will know something about it." Usagi tried her best not to look as if she were running, but she couldn't help but hear Makoto's observation that Motoki was busy. 'I guess I'll just sit there looking useless until he comes,' Usagi thought resignedly.

To her immense relief, the blond eighteen-year-old chose that moment to exit the storage room, bearing several unopened packages of what looked to be various brands of tea. Seeing Usagi, he shoved the tea unceremoniously under the counter and leaned on the surface in question, a charming grin directed at the girl before him. "Usagi-chan…?" Noting the slight furrow in her brow, he tucked a stray curl of golden hair behind Usagi's left ear, smiling kindly at her. "Daijoubu desu ka? Can I help you? Do you want to talk about it? What's wrong?"

The younger girl couldn't help but crack a smile. "Iie, Motoki-niichan, demo… have you seen –"

Usagi was cut off when the bells chimed again, and a ripple of sudden self-consciousness raised gooseflesh on her arms. There was a gaze burning right between her tense shoulder-blades – a familiar stare, and a strangely heated one.

Motoki, confused by her sudden silence, took her hand comfortingly. "Usagi-chan?"

Usagi winced; what had been an intent gaze was now a murderous glare.

Confused, yet strangely exhilarated, she turned around.

The smile she gave him was brilliant enough that Mamoru found himself smiling in return. The feelings within him were tumultuous – relief continued to war with worry even as his formidable restraint was tested by the very sight of her small face and the sparkle in her eye that he knew to be for he, and he alone.

'She's safe,' was all he could think, and yet an acid little voice sneered at him. "Why wouldn't she be?"

Mamoru frowned as his glare reasserted itself at where his best friend was holding Usagi's hand. Perhaps recognising the emotion as possessive jealousy, his Usako winked slyly at him and withdrew her hand before placing it demurely alongside the other on her lap.

You're being silly, her eyes seemed to say, and Mamoru could scarce hold in his love and amusement.

"You make me silly," he muttered so that only she could hear as he took a seat beside her. Her cheeks pinked the faintest hue, and he resisted the urge to take her hand as Motoki had scarce moments before. Due to the somewhat unsatisfied train his thoughts were on, he was no little surprised, though nonetheless delighted, to feel a small hand caress his thigh for a moment, jerking itself away in embarrassment before being hastily caught by one of his own to prevent its darting back into her lap.

Mamoru, only just realising his actions, looked casually over his shoulder and saw that Usagi had positioned herself so that the movement of her hand would be unseen by any behind or before them. He resisted the urge to chuckle. 'Smart girl.'

"Mamo – ru-san? Mamoru-san!"

Mamoru was too amused by her misstep to prevent his own. "Hai, U-'dango?" he corrected himself hastily, and the wicked gleam in his lover's eye told him that she had caught his mistake and his slip. "What is it?"

"I was wondering… you go to Moto Azabu, ne?"

"Hai," he answered, feeling her hand clutch at his a little harder. "Doushite? Why ask?" She knew very well he attended the school in question…

"I heard there was a – a monster there earlier. You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Mamoru recognised his usual cue, and donned a teasing smile. "And why would Odango-san be worried for the Baka's sake? You might not actually begin to –" he paused dramatically, catching Motoki's reproachful look and paying no heed to it, "– care, would you?"

"Don't call me that," she said automatically, but her eyes did not waver from his own. "Mamoru-baka, then, were you hurt?"

He dropped the act. "Iie," he said, and tried not to think of Sailormoon's screaming, or how the wound from the ice crystal had burned.

As if sensing his insincere answer, Usagi gave him a searching look even as her hand left his to accept her milkshake, murmuring absent thanks to Motoki.

Mamoru almost sighed in relief when she turned away, still only half-convinced of his wellbeing. Taking the proffered coffee, he hissed as the hot liquid burned his fingers and shot a half-hearted glare at Motoki, who raised his hands as if to claim blamelessness before returning his attention to Usagi.

"You were saying earlier, Usagi-chan?" the girl looked up questioningly before a reluctant smile suffused her features.

"It doesn't matter now," she said, and Mamoru's hand itched to hold hers again. "I was actually looking for the Baka here –" she broke off, realising her mistake, and Mamoru, about to take a sip of coffee, almost spat it out as he felt a sudden pinch below his waistline, the worn jeans providing little protection against Usagi's nails. He shot a disgruntled look at Usagi, who met it with one of her own. Say something, her expression told him. Anything.

"Don't tell me you've lost it again," he mocked a sigh and reached over to steal a pen from Motoki's apron pocket. "I don't suppose you'd have paper, either?" he drawled at the indignant blond.

"These are for customers," Motoki retorted, patting the notepad he carried about for orders. "You are just an evil leech of a best friend who comes in for free coffee. I don't call 'sponging' being a paying customer –"

"See if I ever leave you tips again," Mamoru shot back, scribbling busily on a napkin he had appropriated for the purpose and presenting it to Usagi with an obnoxious flourish. "There you go," he said, almost forgetting to inject the proper combination of mocking contempt and annoyance into his voice, "and don't lose it again! I'm only tutoring you because I owe Tsukino-san a big favour…" the subtle wink that accompanied Mamoru's statement turned the innocent excuse into a lewd insinuation.

Unable to decide what else to do in reply, Usagi swallowed her mouthful of milkshake and began to blow a raspberry. Seeing Mamoru's eyes darken suddenly, she hastily retracted the offending tongue and snatched up the napkin in a feeble pretence at interest.

Mamoru bit down hard on his lip, enough so that he drew blood, and exited the arcade before anyone else could say a word, leaving behind a dismayed and somewhat embarrassed Usagi, a confused Motoki and two inquisitive classmates bearing down on the hapless blonde.

"You were looking for Mamoru-kun?" Motoki repeated in disbelief, almost dropping the shake glass he had been cleaning.

Usagi glanced down at the napkin and almost laughed before casually tucking the scrap of tissue into her pocket. "It's for math," she responded quickly – a little too quickly, the blonde realised, hiding a grimace behind another sip of milkshake. "Mama said that I needed a tutor, and Baka-san there was recommended for it… he probably wouldn't have done it, either, if Mama hadn't helped him that one time," she added hastily, taking another sip of her milkshake. Usagi almost choked again as an exuberant clap on her back threatened the drink to make an unpleasant reappearance.

"Mako-chan!" Ami said reprovingly, though her eyes were curious behind the wire-rimmed reading glasses. "Be careful…"

"Gomen ne, Usa," the brunette apologised automatically, thumping on Usagi's back a few more times in a hazardous attempt to 'help' her friend.

"Matte!" Usagi whispered hoarsely, "Mako, I'm fine…"

"What was this favour, Usagi-chan?" Motoki asked, offering her some water to clear her throat. "And what did he give you?"

The smaller blonde's eyes widened perceptibly as she tried to conjure an excuse, failed miserably and finished her milkshake off hastily before almost throwing herself from the counter. "Anou… I better get this to Mama – it's his number and house-address, see, and I lost it before, and I don't want to lose it again and have to talk to Mamoru-san anymore because he'll – gomen-I-must-go-now-bye!"

Usagi didn't wait for a chance for them to stop her; it was a miracle, really, that she did not slip or skid into any objects or people as she took her leave. Just to the right of the arcade, Usagi retrieved the crumpled 'note' from her pocket and did her best to decipher her lover's spiky handwriting. She turned it over in her hands and, finally finding which way was up and which way was down, paused to read it.

Be careful about what you say around Motoki…

A wistful smile appearing on her lips, Usagi could almost see the way Mamoru's mouth would twist wryly as he spoke of his best friend with faintly-hidden pride and exasperation.

…he's not as much a baka as he looks.

Usagi blinked. That was it? Just to tell her to be careful around his best friend, and a snide insult directed at the aforementioned friend's intelligence? 'How childish,' she thought, faintly amused in spite of her annoyance. She remembered his not-so-subtle glare directed at Motoki scarce ten minutes earlier. 'I suppose it only goes to show that even Chiba Mamoru of the Invincible Ego can be jealous.'

Still turning the napkin over and over in as she tried to reign in her disappointment, she caught a glimpse of writing on the underside and squinted at it, stopping before the entrance to a dead-lane where the arcade emptied its dumpsters.

Alley.

Usagi frowned at the characters that made up the phrase. 'What –?' She let out a breathless squeak as strong hands grasped her, the napkin falling from her grasp only to be ground into the dirty pavement beneath her assaulter's heel as his hands wound themselves into her long hair, tilting her head back so that he might kiss her all the better.

Recognising the subtle scent of roses and rainfall, she hastily lowered her knee from its threatening position, but Mamoru seemed to register the movement and his mirth rumbled through him and into her so that she couldn't stop the groan any more than she could have stopped herself from pressing closer to his warmth as the heat in her belly leapt in response to the gleam in his eyes.

"Glad you recognised me," he teased, and kissed her again. "Feeling threatened, Usako?" He loomed over her, arms coming about his lover's small frame in a tight embrace. "Seems I've caught myself a little spitfire," he mumbled into her hair. 'Is it really possible to love any girl – any person or individual this much?' he thought distractedly, inhaling her scent; strawberries and blossoms and spring nights. His heart felt so full now in comparison – life before Usako had never been truly bad, but it was viewed in blacks and whites and greys: in loneliness. 'Don't let her go!'

"You've caught –" she began to argue half-heartedly, but he seemed intent on silence as his lips brushed tenderly against hers, again and again so softly that she was suddenly far more interested in persuading forth more sparks and fire from him than scolding or squabbling; almost certainly her too-knowing lover's intention from the start. Through the haze in her mind, she felt – sensed? How did she? – conflict in his taut frame; in every line of his hard body. 'What can be bothering him?' she wondered absently before humming low in her throat in response to the pleasure of seeing, feeling, being with him.

She didn't quite register when he had moved so that his lean body pinned her against the wall, being too preoccupied with the way his mouth slanted over hers, a large hand trailing delicate circles at the small of her back as the other crushed her to him in an unshakeable grip. The heat would burn her alive, it would, she knew… though it hadn't quite done that the night before it had to, it would…

And in her mind's eye flashed the same vision of the same child she had envisioned the night before – sturdy, like his father, and serious-eyed, like his father, a shock of darkness crowning his head… like his father's… or perhaps it would be a girl, slender, with strangely familiar eyes that laughed with the world –

"You wish, Usagi," a snide voice whispered, and Usagi's heart ached suddenly before the pain was filled in with Mamo-chan's love. "You wish," it snarled again and her heart wilted with quiet despair.

'But it is the wishing that is beautiful,' the pain fell away as she pushed it forcefully from her mind, her eye-sense and hear-sense and touch-sense and everything filled with Mamo-chan.

"Sailormoon walks alone."

'There is no Sailormoon without Tsukino Usagi… and maybe… no Tsukino Usagi without Chiba Mamoru.' Usagi's scattered momentarily as she thought he's not here where has he gone where have you gone, Mamo-chan and then realised he was standing a little back from her, eyes bright in the shadows, hands smoothing down her sides, brushing ever-so-suggestively against the swell of her breasts before cupping them both, thumbs rubbing briefly where he could see the aroused tips even through blouse and undergarments. He pulled her closer; his mouth found the sensitive spot at her throat, her heart echoing, beating the rhythm of his as it resonated through her.

"Unreasonable, selfish, foolish, damning the world for the love of one man…"

Usagi faltered, and even Mamoru's soothing presence and the warmth in her belly could not immediately banish the sudden chill. Perhaps misinterpreting her sudden stillness, he drew away but was thwarted in that quest as the blonde latched almost desperately onto him again, causing them both to stumble and a sigh of breathless laughter to escape his lips as he simply held her to him, their pulses beating erratically against one another as Mamoru's hands clenched at the material of her shirt, she moving sinuously, almost absently against him before he whispered a plea for her to stop Usako stop please don't stop but stop please…

'I feel warm,' Usagi thought faintly, and was faintly surprise when the voice did not answer. 'Mamo-chan…'

"Hai?" he said suddenly. His voice was taut with strain and she realised she must have said his name aloud. "Usako?" he hissed again as she moved against the evident strain in his jeans.

"I –" she licked swollen lips and his mouth was suddenly covering hers. "Mmmmm," came the reluctant protest, and he came away, smoothing her hair back tenderly before she felt the full weight of her ankle-length hair on her head, he having removed the pins holding up her odangos.

"I didn't think you were going to come," Mamoru's voice was huskier than usual and Usagi leaned contentedly against him, not protesting as his embrace tightened to the point of almost-pain before slowly relaxing.

"I thought you'd given me a small piece of nothing," she answered, snuggling closer. "Still, the bit in there with the tutoring – how did you come up with that so quickly?"

She felt the subtle rumble in his chest as he chuckled deeply. "It isn't so hard, Odango," he began teasingly, and she recognised his 'heckle-Odango' mode, standing hurriedly on tiptoe to kiss the corner of his mouth in an attempt to distract him. Her ploy worked, he taking her hand and tracing patterns on it with a long finger. "I guess I was just inspired," he finally answered, winking a suddenly-roguish ocean-blue eye at her and bringing her hand to his lips in a chaste kiss that belied their earlier passion.

"I was thinking that maybe you could help me with my math things," Usagi murmured, trying not to blush at his actions; her Mamo-chan could be so sweet sometimes. "Tutoring, I mean," she clarified; stung in spite of herself at the flabbergasted expression her lover wore.

"Usako?" he ventured cautiously. "Why?" Perhaps sensing her annoyance, he pulled her closer, leaning his head so that his chin rested comfortably between where her odangos would have been had he not undone them. "It's not that you are stupid – a little bit of a dreamer, maybe, but you're not stupid. Demo… why would you want to get help from me?"

The blonde nuzzled at his chest, her voice muffled in his t-shirt. "Anou… I did think it'd be nice to spend more time with you," she murmured, "and that if Papa found out about… well, us, he'd be a lot nicer if it was my boyfriend that had me bringing home tests that were perhaps more than… well, thirty percent."

He laughed again, and kissed her; she took that as his consent, an assumption confirmed when he informed her "How could I resist?" before telling her, in no uncertain terms, that at least half the lessons would need to be scheduled at her house. "Temptation is still temptation," said he by way of reply to her protests.

Reluctantly, Usagi unwound her arms from him as she noted the lengthened shadows. "I'm supposed to be home for dinner… demo, perhaps you'd like to drop in and say hello? We can tell them about you giving me lessons then!"

Mamoru couldn't hold back the incredulity in his tone. "Usako," he whispered hoarsely.

"You can always ask Mama on the phone," she ventured helpfully.

'Bless her, she's allowing me an escape route,' Mamoru thought fondly as he lowered his head so that his bangs brushed hers. "I'll come… I'll speak to your parents and –"

"And if they ask, will you stay for dinner?" Usagi's eyes sparkled at him and he couldn't help but return her smile.

"My car's around the corner," he replied, watching as she winced at his blatant evasion. He stepped backwards, a hand coming up to touch her slightly-bruised lips before letting it fall. Disappointment evident in her eyes at his dismissal, she waited to see if he would say anything more and drooped visibly when he did not.

"I can walk home myself," she tried. "It's not too far away."

"At this time of night?" Mamoru answered, ignoring the fact that there was a good two hours or so before daylight dimmed to dusk. "I can drive you."

Usagi shrugged and made as if to turn away; he halted her with his smile.

"For what it's worth," Mamoru ventured – was that a quaver in his voice? – "I'd love to."

Her answering smile made his heart ache; they clasped hands briefly, she pulling reluctantly away. Mamoru watched her silhouette at the mouth of the alley, savouring the way the afternoon sun bronzed the lilac and faded blue of her clothes and tinted her rich tresses of hair, before he followed.

Glossary

kikkyou—sunshine and shadow; fortune

koneko—kitten

Aijou ga itsumo osewa ni natte orimasu—'You're always taking care of my daughter.' It is traditional, when being introduced to a friend of one's family, to apologise for all the trouble your relative has given their friend, or to compliment them for always looking after them. This doesn't usually have anything to do with the actual state of affairs; Jikkan-chan couldn't resist having it be true, for once.

Sarariman—English loanword: 'Salary man'. A company employee.

Daijoubu desu ka?—'Are you all right?' with a more physical implication than 'Ogenki desu ka?' 'How are you feeling?'.

A/N: Finally! Chapter done… and you all know that I'm a review whore, so here's my hoping you'll drop a line. If it's signed, I'll definitely reply, and if it's not… well, I guess I won't. /sweatdrops/ Anyway, we're hoping to reach to about seventy reviews? That would be quite nice. /ignores how stupid she sounds and smiles hopefully at readers/. Please?