Bleed (Just to Know You're Alive)
Chapter 5
//anything between slashes are thoughts//
Disclaimer: Anything you read into Mamoru and Malachi's relationship is purely your own fault, as a reader and interpreter. You hear us? YOUR fault. Not ours. We assume no responsibility for what dirty things go on in YOUR minds.
Real Disclaimer: We've decided, in all fairness, to up the rating on this fic. Between those two and their ... antics, and all the battle gore, it's probably appropriate.
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The scream of excruciating pain faded, but the echoes continued to reverberate long after their source had died out, shivering throughout the playground equipment like the chords of a song.
A single drop of blood trickled down the blade of the Glaive. And then it was not one drop, but many, soaking the clean metal in a wash of dark crimson that ran down onto the grass.
"Idiot," Kunzite softly growled between struggled breaths. "Why weren't you fighting back?"
Mamoru's eyes snapped open in shock. Kunzite? But how...?
"Kunzite, how did you get here?" he asked, a tiny trickle of blood escaping onto his lips.
"Not everyone is as hopeless at teleporting as you, Prince," Kunzite wheezed.
Harmony squacked in surprise, yanking her Glaive back out of the intruding body. Kunzite yelped at the pain, clutching his giant horizontal wound. It did very little good; every second, pint upon pint of blood poured out and soaked his white uniform.
Kunzite slumped to his prince's feet, unable to stay standing. "You can't just die, Prince! Not after all you went through to bring us back!"
//Finally, someone with sense!// the voice in Mamoru's head cried. //What are you waiting for? Transform already! The longer you wait, the less time Kunzite has to live!//
Mamoru was paralyzed. He wanted to help his friend, knew that it was urgent, but somehow he could no more make his body obey him than flap his arms and start flying. Only one thought kept rolling through his mind, like the skipping on a scratched CD. //What have I done...//
"Kunzite!" Someone shouted, and suddenly Zoisite moved into his line of sight, kneeling down next to the white-haired man, who was growing more and more pale by the second. Two other figures appeared in Mamoru's blurred vision, standing between him and Harmony.
"Ready for this, Jadeite?" Nephrite smirked over at his friend.
"Damn right I am," Jadeite replied as an aura of blue energy began to glow around his hand.
//Do you see what's happening here?// The strange voice echoed around in Mamoru's head. //If you won't fight to save yourself, they will! Malachi is dying for you, Mamoru, and the others will too if you don't do something!//
Without any of the necessary sparkles and happy fluff that are considered for a normal attack, Jadeite thrust his hand forward. Within a split-second, a dragon made purely of water exploded from his palm, sending Harmony squealing onto her little lacey rearend.
"That's a cool trick," he commented, almost in awe. He turned his hand over and over. "Could I do that before?"
//Mamoru! Hurry the hell up; Kunzite only has maybe five minutes of life left! You, as a doctor of all people, should know that!//
The liquid oriental dragon slithered through the air like a snake, droplets of rain falling from its hide. Harmony screamed and curled into a ball on the ground as the creature soared over her a second time, sending a spray of burning rain upon her. Jadeite reached out and allowed a few droplets to spill into his hand. Funny, it didn't feel any different than normal rain. With a cheerful twirl of its tail, the dragon sent a few final splatters in the little girl's direction before vanishing completely.
"Shit." Saruna remarked, stamping out her cigarette in the sand. "Thought we was s'pposed ta be executin' princes tonight, not dodgin' fireworks."
"Hang on Kunzite," Zoisite whispered, making a futile effort to stop the bleeding. The larger man lay half-conscious in his arms, every breath sounding labored and painful.
//It's not that bloody difficult! Golden Crystal pops up, Golden Crystal makes everything go all shiny, Golden Crystal magically heals fatal wound, and voila! Best friend no longer dying.//
//You seem to forget,// Mamoru snapped, //that I myself am not in the best condition right now! Don't you think I want to help him? But God help me, I can't even move my arm to wipe the blood from my face!//
//Since when are HANDS necessary to manipulate your Crystal, idiot?//
Okay, so Mysterious Voice had a point. With whatever constituted concentration in his current mangled state, Mamoru focused on the warm weight in his chest. It had to be in there somewhere.
Slowly at first, spreading from his feet, a golden glow came over him. He hissed briefly as the pure light attempted to heal his various wounds; as his bloodied clothes were replaced by a crisp tuxedo, he wondered if it was enough to stop his internal bleeding, as well.
//At the very least, I'll live long enough to save Kunzite,// he thought. Bending down to take stock of his friend proved very difficult, as his knees creaked painfully beneath him.
Things were not much better once he had come to the ground level. Kunzite's wound spread over most of his torso, width-wise, but didn't appear to have gone all the way through or injured his spinal cord. There was, perhaps, still hope.
The white-haired man peered his prince through glassy, unseeing eyes. Everything in front of him - Mamoru, Zoisite, the tree - had converged into one blob of hideous colors; no facial features were discernable out of the mess.
Zoisite cast a worried glance up at Mamoru, who looked like he was only in minimally better shape than Kunzite, though the many gashes, scrapes, and bruises scattered across his face seemed to be healing rapidly. His focus immediately returned to the man in his arms, however, whose lips were moving as though he were trying to speak through his ragged breaths. Mamoru reassuringly laid a golden hand on his friend's forehead, and Kunzite immedately became still, knowing that his Prince was still there with him, even if he could no longer see him.
Mamoru held his other hand just above the gaping hole in Kunzite's chest. Normally he needed direct contact with a wound to heal it, but he was not sure it would be such a good idea to be sticking his hand in Kunzite's chest cavity, for a multitude of reasons. Hopefully, if he was strong enough to heal something like this in his more powerful state, he would be strong enough to work through the extra few atoms of space between them.
Nephrite raised an eyebrow at Jadeite. "Okay, if you can make giant water dragons, what can I do?"
Jadeite shrugged. "I dunno, gerbils perhaps?"
"I sure hope not," Nephrite muttered. Experimentally, he held out his hand, in the hopes that some flaming rodent was not going to pop out and accidentally devour him.
At first, nothing happened. But slowly, and then with increasing speed, a wind picked up. From behind him - or within him, no one was sure - an ethereal tiger shape appeared, bringing with it enormous gusts of air.
With no warning, the tiger lept foward, plowing into Sanura with the force of an oncoming train. She hit the sand roughly and was flipped up and slammed down by the winds for more than ten feet, finally slamming into a jungle gym.
"...Wow." Nephrite inspected his hand, wondering where exactly that had come from. "Okay, that's a whole lot better than a gerbil."
His thoughts were interrupted when an incredibly bright light flooded the playground, overpowering the weak streetlights and nearly blinding all of them. Mamoru had finally worked past his injuries enough to properly heal Kunzite, and was doing so with every drop of power he had. Zoisite fought to stay kneeling where he was, but being so close to Mamoru while he used so much power was like standing in the midst of a hurricane without so much as a windbreaker. It was all he could do to close his eyes and hang onto Kunzite.
"You...you're mean!" Harmony whined, standing up with her Glaive as her major support. "You hurt a little girl!"
"Yeah, and you just tried to gore my prince. All things considered, I think we're on an even playing field," Jadeite snapped back. The little girl lunged for him, attempting to slice his head off at the neck, but the blonde man ducked. He swung out his leg, swiping Harmony's out from underneath her and sending her flat on her back. She blasted him with purple energy, and he went sailing, landing upside down in a boat-shaped play structure.
Her moment of triumph was short-lived, however.
"Naughty children like you shouldn't be let out of the house." With very little remorse, Nephrite punched the little girl in the jaw just as she turned to face him. She butted him in the head with the blunt end of her Glaive, but he didn't seem phased in the slightest.
Kunzite's vision slowly began to clear, and he opened his eyes, watching the golden being kneeling above him healing his wounds. Though it was difficult to look directly at Mamoru without being completely blinded, he could still make out the worried expression on his Prince's face. "Stop looking so guilty, Prince. I'm not dead yet."
Mamoru smiled wanly as the last layer of skin grew back. //You were pretty damn close, though.// He did not say it, though. He would rather not say how close he was to losing the friend who had returned to him mere hours ago.
As Nephrite busied himself with fighting the deliquent child, Sanura quietly made her way to the occupied Prince. She was sent here to kill him, and dammit, she would do it whether these frat boys got in the way or not. "Chronos Typhoon!"
"Prince! Watch out!" Jadeite shouted, scrambling out of the piece of playground equipment.
Without even thinking, Mamoru turned and held his hand out. The typhoon rushed at him, but before it could begin to pummel him as it should have done, it seemed to get sucked up into his hand like a vacuum. Eventually, all that remained was a compact orb about the size of a billiard ball, resting in his palm. Surprised, Mamoru inspected the ball of typhoon in his hand. Swirls of grey and burgendy danced within it, restless with so much energy crammed into such a tiny space. "Now that's interesting."
"He..." Jadeite floundered, staring in awe.
"...caught it," Zoisite finished for him.
"Shit!" Out of other options, Sanura swung her Time Key like a baseball bat, hoping to come in contact with someone - anyone. Mamoru didn't flinch - he simply held up his arm to block the oncoming rod. The metal bounced off his arm as though it was rubber; frustrated, Sanura raised the Key and tried again. And again. And again.
Mamoru went back to distractedly watching the little orb in his hand, while his other arm continued to block oncoming attacks from Sanura. He'd have to tell Setsuna that her attacks really made lovely er... paperweights. He idly wondered what the other Sailor Senshi's attacks would look like in this form, and nearly snickered at the thought of someone having a ball of Death Reborn Revolution sitting on their desk.
Sanura let out a curse of frustration, and, sighing, his focus returned to her. He really did not feel like fighting right now.
The mohawked senshi took yet another swing at him, but he neatly dodged out of the way. She stumbled, not expecting to hit only air, and he swung his hand around and slammed the ball of Chronos Typhoon into her stomach. The orb exploded on impact, sending Saruna flying across the playground.
"Hey, you think you could do that at frat parties?" Jadeite asked, but was promptly punched on the thigh by Zoisite. "Ow! It was just a suggestion!"
"Prince?" Kunzite said groggily, his mouth dry and seemingly weighed down with marbles. His uniform was still covered in half-dried blood, but no more was forthcoming. Mamoru had healed him.
"What gave you the brilliant idea to die for me?" Mamoru asked, helping his friend sit up, with some assistance from Zoisite.
"I'm not dead! I feel fine! I think I'll go for a walk!"
"When you start quoting Monty Python, that's definitely not a good sign." Zoisite smiled, putting an arm behind his back to keep him sitting upright.
Mamoru did not find this overly amusing (mostly because he was not familiar with British comedy, being from Japan and all). "You need to take it easy, Kunzite. You lost a lot of blood."
"Uh, I hate to interrupt you and all Prince, but I think we've got a problem here!" shouted Jadeite. He and Nephrite had been holding off the two clones easily enough, but the task immediately became much more difficult when a third enemy decided to join in.
"You... you bastard!" Hasana screamed at Mamoru from across the playground, her voice nearly breaking with sobs. "You'll pay for what you did to my dear sweet love!"
//"Dear sweet love?" Oh, how Haruka would laugh if she heard that...// "You'll have to excuse me, guys. I think I need to help them out." Mamoru carefully transferred Kunzite into Zoisite's lap, getting to his feet. "Apparently, she's not very happy with me."
"Fucking right I'm not happy with you!" Hasana screamed. "How could you? How could you do that to me?!"
"Well, it was either her or me. All things considered? I'm a self-preservationist." //...Some of the time.//
"World Shaking!" The golden orb rumbled toward Mamoru's feet, but one sharp kick, and its trajectory was immediately reversed. Hasana moved to the side, barely missing her own attack as it bent one of the streetlamps in half.
Hasana made a juvenile noise of rage and frustration. "Stop doing that!"
"I'm sorry, should I hold still next time?"
"Yes, dammit!"
"The Prince is certainly into teasing his enemies, isn't he?" Zoisite muttered, keeping a firm grip on Kunzite.
Kunzite smiled wryly, watching Mamoru bounce another attack back in Hasana's direction. "Can you blame him?"
With a burst of very Haruka-like speed, Hasana crossed the playground in less than five seconds, Space Sword waving over her head. Mamoru gave no indication that he intended to move; indeed, he planted his feet and waited.
"Die, you heartless bastard," Hasana hissed, shoving the sword right through Mamoru's stomach.
"Prince!" Kunzite tried to get to his feet, but he was pushed firmly to the ground by Zoisite. "Zoisite, what the hell are you doing? We have to--"
Mamoru looked down at the glowing sword that had run him clean through. Blood started to seep out, but immediately stopped. He looked up at the blonde girl with an unusually evil smirk.
"And what did you intend to do after stabbing me?" he asked calmly, pulling the sword back out with very little effort.
Hasana gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish in open air. She stumbled backwards, Mamoru keeping up with her every step.
"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Kunzite," Zoisite said, smiling a little. "I think he knows what he's doing now."
"How about you go join your lover?" Mamoru asked viciously, grabbing Hasana by the collar. The blonde whimpered and tried to pry his hand away, but his grip was like a steel vice. "Tuxedo Mirage!" Without so much as a scream, Hasana vanished into dust before him.
Brushing Hasana dust off his hands, Mamoru turned to face the other two adversaries, who had watched the scene from the edge of the playground, by the jungle gym. Harmony cowered behind the other woman, hiding her face from the scary glowing guy. "Don't let him hurt me, Sanura-mama!" Sanura tried her best to look brave, but was shaking just as much as the little girl behind her.
"You know, five minutes ago, I was perfectly willing to let you kick the shit out of me," Mamoru drawled, watching the two senshi as a cat does a cornered mouse. "But then you made the fatal mistake of injuring my friend."
"Emphasis on fatal," he added mildly.
Harmony squeaked and clung to Sanura's legs, nearly knocking the woman over. "Getcher damn hands off me, brat!" She shouted, trying to pry the child off of her. "I'm not gonna be yer bloody shield jus' cuz you screwed up!"
"But he'll hurt me, Sanura-mama!"
"Well that's just too damn bad." She took ahold of Harmony's shoulder and shoved her towards Mamoru. The child squealed in fear when she realized how close she was to the big scary guy, and in her struggles to get away, her feet slipped in the sand and sent her falling onto her frilly rear end.
"Clean up your own mess, ya whelp," Sanura growled, and promptly vanished.
"But... but..." Harmony stared helplessly at the place where the biker woman no longer stood. When it finally began to register that her adopted mother was not going to come back and help her, the little girl began to wail. "Sanura-mama, wait for me!" Grabbing her Glaive out of the sand, she cast a tearful glance up at Mamoru. "I'm gonna get you, you big meanie!" Sobbing, she vanished.
The light surrounding Mamoru faded, taking his tuxedo with it. Reverting back to his normal form brought with it all kinds of pain, as the half-healed wounds covering his body once again made their presence known. His vision dipped into blackness as he dropped to his knees, thankful that the sand beneath him was so soft.
The three more healthy Shitennou were at his side in seconds, Kunzite limping along after them as best he could.
"Prince, are you okay?" Jadeite asked urgently, catching his prince before he could faceplant. It sounded like a stupid question, but not two seconds before, he had been glowingly vaporizing things left and right. Now, he looked as though he could not have vaporized a piece of paper with a match.
"I've been better," Mamoru wheezed, leaning on the blonde's arm as though it was a lifeline. His lung had probably been punctured; his transformation had bought him time, but he was practically a walking dead man. At least, with the spurt of power, he'd managed to keep Kunzite's attempted sacrifice from coming to completion. Now he could die with the satisfaction of at least doing one thing right.
He was taken by a painful coughing fit that shook his whole body, and when he took his hand away from his mouth it was wet with blood. "That doesn't look healthy," Nephrite muttered worriedly.
Kunzite, who had finally caught up with the other three, knelt in front of his Prince. "Funny how you could find all that power to save me, but you can't be bothered to do the same for yourself."
Mamoru looked up at him, his breaths coming in struggled gasps as his lungs tried desperately to hold onto any oxygen they could get. "I... I'm tired..." he began to say.
"Don't you fucking lie to me! Do you think I don't know what you were doing out here? I suppose you don't need to bother slashing your wrists when you've got enemies to do the job for you!"
Everyone was stunned into silence.
"I should have known you'd pull something stupid. I should have known!" Kunzite slammed his fist into the sand. "God, why did I even let you out of my sight?"
"Oh, not you, too," Mamoru spat, looking up at Kunzite in disgust. "First the Senshi, and now this. Does everybody think I'm useless in a fight?"
"When you nearly let a goth girl with pigtails spear you like sesame dango, I do!"
"You have to admit, Prince," Zoisite cut in, "all this seems a little excessive. The princess isn't dead, just angry. Give her some time to cool off, and--"
"Oh, so suddenly you're an expert at relationships?"
"Hey, I didn't say that!" Zoisite countered. "But you take things harder than anyone I know! You used to go on a hunger strike if a letter from Serenity was one day late!"
Mamoru did not have much to say to this, mostly because he had begun to cough again.
"Prince, you can't be reviving dead guardians and then run off to die on them," Jadeite said softly. "It doesn't work like that."
It finally dawned on Mamoru that he had failed to take into account what his death would mean to the Shitennou. He had been so busy hating himself that he had simply assumed that the rest of the world hated him too. It had never occured to him that maybe the people who had waited two long years to be with him again might not be overly pleased to lose him just as quickly.
If there was ever a time for an "oops," this would have been it.
//Okay. I'm dying from internal bleeding, which is bad. Stopping it would be good. Going about that is the tricky part.// His skin began to take on that familiar golden glow. //Do I have enough strength left to heal myself?//
Nephrite put his hand on Mamoru's shoulder; the light touch surprised him.
"You probably wiped yourself healing Kunzite, and destroying the clone. The least we can do is contribute a little," Nephrite explained. Zoisite followed suit on Mamoru's other shoulder, and Jadeite just continued to hold him up. The glow quickly became stronger, and Mamoru's smaller cuts patched themselves within seconds.
Kunzite reached out his hand to help, but Mamoru shook his head and feebly held out his own to stop it.
"You're still healing yourself, Kunzite," he said. "Just take it easy."
Kunzite was about to protest, but stopped himself. He was having enough difficulty with tasks like standing without giving up more of his energy to heal someone. Still, he watched Mamoru closely, ready to help if needed.
Gradually, as the glowing took effect on his more serious injuries, Mamoru's breathing became easier. When he was fairly certain that his lung was not going to collapse and that he was not going to bleed to death, he sat up straighter, allowing the glow to fade. "Thanks, guys. I think I'll be alright now."
"We're not letting you go anywhere yet, Prince," said Zoisite, giving Mamoru a gentle hug.
"At least not until we've taken you to the bar," Nephrite ammended.
"And how long has it been since you talked about booze?" Kunzite asked, nudging Nephrite lightly on the shoulder.
"Hey, that's not all I talk about! Sometimes I talk about coeds."
This earned him a half-hearted groan from everyone present.
"What?" Nephrite asked, feigning innocence. "I didn't say 'I talk about naked coeds,' did I?"
Jadeite smirked. "But you were thinking it."
"Hey, there's no harm in that!"
"You thinking is a very dangerous thing," Zoisite said dryly, earning a swat on the arm.
Mamoru watched Kunzite warily, feeling very much like a naughty schoolboy who was sitting outside the principal's office, awaiting punishment. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"
Kunzite glanced up at him and sighed. "How can I not be?"
"Would it help if I said I was an idiot?" he tried lamely.
Kunzite sighed again. "You're not an idiot, Mamoru. You just let your love for the princess get in the way of clear, levelheaded thinking. That girl's got you wrapped around all ten fingers, and it isn't as though I don't respect that. But you HAVE to put things in perspective from time to time."
He smiled a little. "Can you promise me that, at least? I know I can't watch you every second, much as I'd like to, so this will have to do."
Mamoru smirked half-heartedly. "Only if you promise not to jump in front of me every time I'm about to be gored by a Silence Glaive."
Kunzite snickered. "I dunno, at the rate you're going, you're going to need a human shield every ten minutes." Mamoru gave him a punch on the arm for the remark. Though it was not much harder than a feeble swat, Kunzite still clutched his arm in mock pain. "Ow! Hey, have a little sympathy for the injured here."
"We should start heading back," Nephrite said, glancing up at the pitch-black sky. "It's getting pretty late."
Zoisite nodded. "We'd better teleport these two back to Malachi's room. We can't expect them to walk in their condition."
"Hey, unlike some people, I didn't have any organs punctured by stillettos!" Kunzite rose to his feet. "See, there's nothing wrong with--"
Unfortunately, his valiant effort at proving his friends wrong was shattered when, not three seconds later, he fell face-first into the sand.
Mamoru gave him a worried look as he sat up, but he spat out sand good-naturedly. "Okay, fine, we teleport."
"Stubborn idiot." Nephrite got to his feet, offering his friend a hand. Kunzite accepted it gratefully, getting to his feet with much more caution the second time around.
"Wait a minute," Mamoru said, getting his own lift from Jadeite. "How'd you know about the stiletto?"
"Yes, Kunzite. Want to explain that one?" Zoisite said, smiling prettily.
"Uh, it's simple." Kunzite cleared his throat. "It was my ... Mam-O-Meter."
There was silence for a moment.
"That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard, but you know, I'm not in the mood to argue with you about it," Mamoru sighed, a long-suffering smile on his face.
"Yes, Kunzite, I'm sure you can explain the details when we aren't standing around in a public place in the middle of the night wearing flashy white uniforms with capes," Zoisite said with a snicker as he moved to the other side of Mamoru and put his arm around him, helping to hold him up.
Kunzite coughed sheepishly. "Yeah, okay. See you guys at home."
Suddenly the playground faded from Mamoru's vision, and the familiar cold wind that always seems to accompany teleportation rushed across his face. It ended just as abruptly as it began, and he soon found himself blinking in the soft light of Malachi's bedroom--although not precisely in the place he would have expected.
"Jadeite!" Zoisite shouted, reaching behind Mamoru to punch the blonde in the shoulder. "You did that on purpose!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Zoisite," he said innocently, though his amusement was still evident on his face.
"Only you would think to pull something like this," Zoisite huffed, beckoning at the desk at his feet, for indeed they had been teleported into Malachi's bedroom, and wound up standing on top of his desk.
"Oh, come on. At least we didn't end up in the toilet." Jadeite used the nearby chair to climb off the table. Zoisite and Nephrite simply jumped from the height, but Mamoru and Kunzite required a little more assistance.
Nephrite chuckled. "That would have been terribly hard to explain to the drunken pledges spending their evening with our porcelain lady."
"They'd probably assume it was a booze-induced hallucination and never know the difference. I know I've seen some interesting stuff..." Jadeite shuddered. "The green kittens still haunt me."
With some help from Nephrite, Kunzite began to move towards the couch. "Hold on Kunzite," Mamoru said, stopping him. "I'm not taking your bed from you. I'll sleep on the couch."
Kunzite gave him a weary smile. "I'm not going to argue with you, Prince. You're sleeping in the bed, and that's final."
"No I'm not. Listen, it's your bed and you're injured--"
"And so are you. Besides, this is my bedroom and I'll sleep wherever the hell I want."
"If it's that much of an issue, why don't you share the bed?" chirped Jadeite.
There was a long pause, and everyone turned to stare at the blonde. "Just a thought?"
"You know, Jed, I think we ought to leave before you get hurt." Nephrite's uniform faded away into his casual clothes, leaving normal ol' Neff in his place. "Not that I'm particularly concerned; you've got a head like a big hollow ... uh, something."
"Neff, your wit astounds me." Zory rolled his eyes, pushing both men out of the room gently. "Come on, let's go get drunk or whatever other manly things we're expected to do now."
"You're about as manly as eyeliner, ZorOW!" Jed rubbed his heel. "You fight like a girl, too."
"Considering the girls we've encountered lately, I'll take that as a compliment." The door to Malachi's room closed, leaving both men alone again.
"Sadly, I think I've missed this," Mamoru said, idly rubbing at his chest. There was still a dull ache from having sharp boots come in contact with squishy internal bits.
Sighing, he sank down onto the bed.
"Gave up on arguing with me?" Malachi asked, unfolding an extra blanket for himself.
"No, but I don't think I can make it across the room to the couch."
He snickered as he crossed the room to switch the light off. "I suppose I should be thankful for being saved from your wrath."
"Hey, I could wrestle you off that couch if I wanted to. When I'm not recovering from being beaten up by biker girls, that is."
Both men fell into silence as they crawled into their respective beds and lay in the darkness, gazing up at the ceiling as the events of their very long day rolled through their minds.
"Okay, I have to know," Mamoru said after a moment. "What the heck is your Mam-O-Meter?"
Malachi sighed. "It's like...I'm not sure, really. I could feel that you were upset at first, but I thought you were still in the room. And then suddenly, I was pouring myself a cup of coffee, and instead of seeing Zory reading the newspaper, I saw a heel coming down on your chest and blood spraying everywhere. Which, I might add, did not help my appetite any."
"Gee, I'm terribly sorry for that," Mamoru snapped.
"I didn't mean--"
The black-haired prince thumped the bed out of frustration. "I'm sorry, that was childish of me. It's been a long day."
"Tell me about it."
"So do you always know when something's wrong with me?"
Malachi sighed again. "It's not really as straightforward as that. Usually it's just some abstract feeling that I can't explain, like suddenly feeling sad for no reason. But sometimes when you're badly hurt or seriously distressed... I dunno, sometimes I get a vision of what's happening to you, or I start having sharp pains wherever you're hurt. I don't know how it happens, none of the others seem to be able to sense things about you the way I do, and I haven't been able to turn it on and off at will. But I've always been able to do it, even when I was in that stone."
"No one except Usako has ever been able to understand me like that."
"I guess I'm just special," Malachi chuckled. "Not that I'm particularly complaining, mind you. Being in league with the princess is definitely a compliment."
"Yeah, if she didn't hate me."
"Oh, don't start with that, Prince. You have no idea that, for a fact, she hates you."
Mamoru snorted. "Oh, so when she says she was wrong to trust me all this time, that's not a big fucking clue?"
"If I'm of correct understanding, she gets jealous when you happen to be looking in the vicinity of someone who might have boobs. So no, that's NOT a big fucking clue."
"Most of the time, they don't whisper sexually-charged phrases in my phone!"
"Please don't get angry, Prince. All I'm saying is that she tends to overreact sometimes, as do you. Not to mention that from her end of the phone, things must have looked pretty bad, what with all the misunderstandings. But that's just what they are--misunderstandings. If the Princess is anything like I remember, then when she learns the truth about what's been happening, she'll not only forgive you, but she'll feel horrible about what she said and dote on you for weeks."
"As much as I want that to be true, I'm not so sure I deserve it."
"Prince," Malachi rolled onto his side and leaned his head in his hand, peering at Mamoru through the darkness, "why are you so hard on yourself? Yes, your Usako is the Princess of the Moon, the all-powerful holder of the greatest crystal in the universe. But here's a newsflash--you're the freaking Prince of the Earth. You're not half as expendible as you'd like to think you are, my friend. I know you've got this thing with thinking that the only reason anyone puts up with you is because of all that destiny crap, but I'll have you know that there are people in this house who would tell you otherwise."
"I know. I know you guys care about me." Mamoru sighed. "But you know what it feels like to be without memories, Malachi. To have no idea who you are, why you're where you are, and what you're doing with your life. That's a lot for a six-year-old to handle on their own. At least you had the other Shitennou with you; for eleven years of my life, the only person I could depend on was myself. When you're that young, it's hardly an exciting prospect, especially when you're not even sure your name is really Chiba Mamoru."
He paused. "I just...got fed up with myself, after awhile. Why did I survive that crash, when my parents died? What was my purpose for being here? At the time, I had no idea about the Silver Millenium, Sailor Moon, any of that, save for a recurring dream about a mysterious princess; I didn't remember the Golden Crystal, Elysian, or you. And as time went by, I guess I just couldn't figure out what was so special about me, that I got to spend the rest of my life with textbooks for company."
"But what about Usagi? She's not a textbook; surely she's given you a little bit of self-confidence."
"You'd think, wouldn't you? But most of the time, I've got nothing to be self-confident about. The other Senshi treat me as though I'm as much of a threat as Galaxia; they're always waiting for me to mess up, so they can say, 'see, Usagi, we were right about him all along!'" Mamoru snorted. "Sometime, I get the feeling that the only reason they don't off me is because they'd rather not have the wrath of Setsuna-san on their heads when Crystal Tokyo ceases to exist."
"You're exaggerating, Prince. They can't still be treating you that way after two years of fighting side-by-side with you."
"I thought so, too, but that was before I started getting death threats from them when I moved here. I swear, they think I'm more dangerous outside of the country than when I'm in Tokyo where they can keep an eye on me."
Malachi smiled. "Yes, I'm sure there's a high-risk factor with what you could do with your cellphone."
Mamoru laughed softly, but to Malachi it sounded a little forced. "After what happened today, I think you're probably right. I guess you might say that Usako was the only good thing that's happened to me in a long time, so I get so afraid that something will make me lose her again, and I'll just go back to being some guy with no name and no past who no one really cares about. I've spent so many years with nothing, and now that she's in my life, I flinch every time I think something will happen. But even as much as I adore her being there, I can't help but think that I am still just nothing, and I've done nothing to deserve someone as wonderful as her."
"Prince, it's all well and good to think so highly of Usagi, but you can't treat her as though she's the only thing that makes your life worth living. As soon as you give that kind of power to a person, you're setting yourself for major stress when some miniscule thing comes along and rocks the boat. Not that I really need to tell you about that, today being adequately considered."
"Yes, stab knife, then twist," Mamoru muttered to himself. Yes, he was perfectly aware that he'd been stupid. Harping on it wasn't going to solve the problem any faster.
"I'm just trying to help you," Malachi said, sounding a little hurt. "I don't mean to continually shove this in your face, but Prince, sometimes you're more of a danger to yourself than these clones. Honestly, do you think there's anything about you that's worth liking, if Usagi isn't taken into consideration?"
"Um...well, there's...I'm smart?"
"I think you can do a little better than that."
"I don't know, Malachi. To tell you the truth, I've never been able to figure out why Usako--or anyone else, for that matter--ever gave me a second glance. Okay, people looked up to me in high school because I got good grades and did well in sports. Big deal; I excelled at everything I did because I had nothing better to spend my time doing. That doesn't make me special, that just means I have no life."
"You really sell yourself short, Prince. If you weren't so busy putting yourself down, maybe you'd notice that you're an exceptional person."
"You sound like a guidance counselor."
"Yeah, okay, but maybe if you'd paid them a visit as a kid, we wouldn't need to be having this conversation. Prince, you were a stranger to me two days ago. But in those first few minutes of conversation between us, I found you to be an intelligent, witty, charismatic individual, and that was only a first impression. You seem to forget, Prince, that I sought to get to know you long before I had any idea of who you really were, not because I'm an exceptionally nice person who befriends every guy who happens to collapse in front of me, but because I really did find myself liking you. And today, what with having my memories and all, I can tell you, as someone who knows you better than just about anyone, that you have a whole list of virtues that I can't even begin to cover."
There was silence for a moment, as the black-haired man let that sink in.
"You really think so?"
"Would I lie to you?"
"No, I suppose you wouldn't." A pause. "Thank you."
"No thanking necessary. Prince, with or without the princess, you're an amazing person, and I'm honored to be your guardian. Never forget that. I will always care about you, and I know I speak for the other Shitennou when I say that."
"I think thanking is plenty necessary. I'd have to be pretty damn special to earn friends like you."
"We've always thought the same thing about you."
"Gosh, Malachi, you sure know how to make a guy blush."
"Oh, please, don't start with that. I'm going to get enough teasing in here for that as it is. Feeling any better about your life situation now?"
Mamoru chuckled, a little less forced this time. "Marginally. If you mean that I don't want to lock myself in the bathroom and slit my wrists, you'd be correct. If you mean that I've suddenly come to the conclusion that I am an amazing, wonderful person and I've suddenly gained the eleven years of self-confidence I've been lacking, I'd say I've got a ways to go."
"I'll settle for you deciding that suicide isn't the answer."
"What was that about teasing?"
"...Nothing. Never mind. I didn't mention it."
They fell into a comfortable sort of silence, broken only by the occasional thump or shout of the frat boys living in the floors above them.
"Malachi?"
"Hmm?"
"I never asked you. Today, after you um... became Kunzite again, did you... well, remember everything?"
Malachi closed his eyes, not wanting to recall the events of that afternoon. "Pretty much everything, yes. We're all still sorting through everything in our minds, but it is there."
Mamoru noticed the edge that had crept into his friend's voice, and suspected he was treading into dangerous territory. "Funny, there's so many things I can't remember, even now," he said, steering the conversation away from whatever was bothering Malachi. "Here I had this whole other lifetime, but I can barely recall more than a few moments of it."
"What's in the past is better left in the past, Prince."
"Not when you grew up without a past, it isn't. There's these times when something reminds me of something else, but as soon as I try to remember it, it's gone. I hate living like that, feeling like there's something I lost, but having no idea how to find it again." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "What kinds of things do you remember about the Silver Millenium?" He was sure to emphasize the last two words, carefully skipping over certain other topics.
"Must you insist on having these conversations late at night, Prince?"
"Please, Malachi? Just tell me one good memory, and I promise I'll shut up and let you sleep."
The white-haired man sat there for a moment, considering. "It was your fifteenth birthday, if I'm not mistaken. The morning festivities had ended, and we'd all snuck away from the palace guards to be off in the gardens - much to my chagrin, I'll have you know. And we must have been out there all morning, talking like the awful little teenagers we were. We must have been there all day, or at least until sunset. The other Shitennou and I had opted to give our gifts to you in private, to avoid all the stuffy nonsense of nobles 'oohing and aahing' and applauding every five damn seconds.
"Nephrite had teased Zoisite mercilessly when he'd found out that his gift was going to be a mirror, but he definitely stopped laughing after he gave it to you. It was silver, delicately carved with elaborate roses all the way around. I know, what use could you have for a mirror, but Zoisite was thinking ahead. I believe you secretly sent it to Serenity for -her- birthday not long after.
"All of us were curious about what Nephrite got you, because he had been hinting and bragging about it for the past week. He made an elaborate show of giving it to you, and I'm sure Zoisite threatened to hurt him if he didn't hurry up and let you open the damn thing. It turned out to be a first edition of a book you'd wanted. Surprised the heck out of us, Nephrite getting you something so academic, but I suspected he had overheard you telling Zoisite about it. That guy's more sneaky than he lets on sometimes.
"Jadeite... let's see, I believe I remember what he got you. It was a knife, carved all of black jade, with little gold dragons all along the blade. Though small and light, it was stronger than any metal, and even though you were reluctant to use it at first, it soon became more useful to you than your sword, and you carried it with you constantly.
"After such beautiful gifts as those, I was sure that mine wouldn't be enough. It was only a silver pocket watch, the kind with a rotating picture of the moon and sun, so that it shows the moon and stars at night time, and the sun with clouds in the day. Even though I didn't think it was nearly as nice as your other gifts, you still insisted to me that you loved it, and just to prove it you always had it with you, never leaving it behind."
Mamoru swallowed. "You remember all of that?"
"Prince, I could probably tell you what the humidity was outside on that day. I've got more memories now than six normal people combined, and even if they aren't all like that one, they're as crisp as if they happened five minutes ago."
The black-haired man really wanted to say he was envious - the best he could do with memories of the Silver Millenium just involved Serenity, and how much he'd loved her. He didn't remember that birthday, or any of the other ones. He didn't remember much of anything.
But he could not express his envy; he wouldn't have dared. Because, for every memory like that, Malachi--Kunzite--had twenty more that were awful and harrowing and would have sent any average person to a mental institution for the rest of their days. Malachi seemed to be taking it rather well, or so it seemed to Mamoru, and he didn't want to ruin that mental peace.
"Thank you for telling me about that."
"Am I allowed to sleep now, or do you have any more pressing life-long problems that need to be addressed?"
"I think we can give it a rest for tonight," Mamoru replied, smiling into the darkness. "Unless you'd like to hear about how I never got that pet turtle I wanted for Christmas when I was ten."
"Good night, Prince," Malachi sighed, rolling onto his side.
Mamoru closed his eyes, wishing some image of that day that Malachi had described would come to him, but all he saw were the backs of his eyelids. He supposed it didn't matter much anyway--even though he could never recall that wonderful day, he did have his friends back with him now, and maybe sometime they'd be able to have a day like that again. He certainly hope so.
The black-haired prince sighed contentedly. "Good night, Malachi."
------
"GOOD MORNING STANFORD UNI--"
CRASH.
Malachi's alarm clock was no match for a sleep-deprived Prince of Earth in any way, shape, or form.
"...the fuck whuzzat?" Malachi muttered fuzzily, peering out from under a blanket.
"Your alarm."
"Oh. What'd you do to it?"
"I shut it up."
"Oh. Good."
That having been said, both immediately went back to sleep.
Malachi awoke a few hours later, grateful for the opportunity to sleep in. He really should have been in Advanced Minerological Studies right now, but given the circumstances, he was willing to give himself a day off. He rather felt he deserved one, after all.
Mamoru was still slumbering in the bed, his face partially obscured by the covers. Malachi could not help but smile a bit as he quietly rose from the couch. Softly, so as not to wake the sleeping prince, he exited the room, silently closing the door behind him.
"Morning!" Jed pronounced in an achingly chipper way, as he took a sip from his third cup of coffee for the morning.
"I'd like mornings better if they started in the afternoon," Malachi grumbled, going for the coffee pot. "Especially after yesterday."
"How's Mamoru doing?"
"Still out like a light."
"Good. He deserves it." Zory poured about eight tons of cream into his cup, passing the carton to Malachi when he was finished. "What are we going to tell our professors?"
"We've been taking care of Mamoru. It's no lie." Neff took a long swig from his own mug of liquid caffeine.
"All of us? Even he's not that inept."
"So? Our profs don't need to know."
"Neff, he's a -med- student. They'll know."
"And it's a big school. You think they'll all know him? Especially considering he's about as social as a rock?" He paused, considering. "Okay, less social than a rock?"
"Well you've got a point there, I guess."
Their conversation immediately ceased when they heard someone coming down the hallway. "Hello all," drawled a fourth year student as he entered the kitchen. "How is everyone this fine morning?"
"We're just wonderful, thank you! And how are you, Alan?" Chimed Jed. Malachi made a mental note to make him cut down on his caffeine intake, or at least put less than ten scoops of sugar in every cup.
"I'm good. Hey, I heard Malachi came out of the closet. Good for you, man."
Malachi did not answer. He was too busy choking on his coffee.
Alan failed to notice the white-haired man's reaction, and reached for the cream. "So what's this I hear about a new pledge moving in? I thought all the rooms were taken for the semester."
"Mamoru was one of the people who lost his dorm in that fire the other night," Zory said, clapping Malachi on the back. "He'll be sharing Malachi's room until one of the other rooms is free."
"Oh, cool. We're all about school spirit and community and all that stu--hey, Malachi, you okay?"
Malachi nodded feebly, coughing a couple of times. "Came out of the closet?" Oh, God, what was going to happen when they asked Mamoru about it? He'd be mortified if his Prince found out about the rumor.
"Down the wrong way," he croaked, gesturing to the cup.
"Well, I've got English 100 in five. Better jet. More power to you, Malachi! Anyone makes fun of you for it, I'll pop 'em one."
"Thanks." As Alan left the kitchen, the white-haired man proceeded to hit his head against the table repeatedly.
"Hey, no need to go and give yourself a concussion," Neff said, trying to keep from grinning.
Malachi scowled up at him. "You're right. I should give you one instead."
"Don't worry about it, Malachi," said Zory, idly stirring his coffee. "I've been dealing with rumors like that for years. With no help from certain people, I might add." He glared pointedly at Jed.
Jed innocently looked up from dumping more sugar into his mug. "You mean you're not in the middle of a passionate love affair with that male lifeguard?" His question was promptly followed by a cry of pain when Zory kicked him under the table.
"Okay, if it's not that big a deal, you can try explaining to Mamoru how 'coming out of the closet' translates into Japanese."
"Explain what about closets to me?"
Mamoru eyed Malachi curiously as he again began to hit his head on the table. "I missed something, didn't I?"
"You missed it two times, even." Zory took a sip out of his coffee mug. "We were just talking about expanding my closet. I'm running out of space."
"It doesn't help that most of it is full of evening gowns and little black OW!" Jed nearly spilled his coffee in his lap as he clutched his throbbing shin. "Stop that!"
"Stop being such an idiot, then."
"How'd you sleep, Prince?" Neff asked, offering Mamoru an empty seat.
"Alright, thanks. I didn't realize I'd slept so long."
"It probably didn't help that you smashed my alarm clock." Malachi gave him a wry smile.
Mamoru blushed sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I'll get you a new one, I promise."
"Don't worry about it, Prince." He rose to get Mamoru some coffee, giving his black hair a friendly ruffle as he passed. "I go through those things so fast, I need to buy them in bulk."
"Yeah, I understand entirely." Mamoru idly played with the small spoon that was resting in the sugar bowl. "Especially those days when I've got Introduction to Cadavers at 8 AM."
"Ready to face your profs, Mamoru, or are you going to hold off until you've recovered fully?" Neff stood, moving toward the sink to rinse out his mug.
The prince sighed. "I don't know what else I've got in store, as far as these clones go. I could go in to see my teachers, but then I'll have to explain why I'm not fit to be in class when I LOOK healthy enough."
"One of us will go. We'll tell them you're still not feeling well, apologize for you." Malachi returned to the table with a mug for Mamoru; the side said "LEAVE ME ALONE - I'M HAVING A CRISIS."
The black-haired prince blinked at the words. "Gee, that's subtle."
Malachi snickered as he sat down. "I thought it seemed appropriate."
Mamoru took a small scoop of sugar from the old earthenware bowl, and then poured in a little cream. He was already awake; he could indulge. "So who gets to face the wrath of my professors?"
"Well let's see," Zory said, glancing around the table. "Who here DOESN'T have a reputation for skipping class and telling horrible excuses for it?"
"Hey, would you prefer it if I went to class drunk?" Neff asked.
"You mean you haven't?"
"Fine. 'Would you prefer it if I went to class drunk more often?'"
"No. No, I would not."
"Sadly, I think Malachi is the only one of us qualified for the job, unless you want your reputation permanently sullied by the rest of us boozing fratboys." Jed smiled. "Not that you should be particularly worried, living with us and all. I mean, what could possibly go--"
"Stop." Zory held up a hand. "You've seen movies. Whenever anyone says 'what could possibly go wrong,' everything goes wrong."
"What's this about me living with you?" Mamoru took a sip of his coffee, and was profoundly relieved to find that it tasted much better than the sludge at the cafeteria.
"Well, we hardly thought you'd be going back to what's left of your dorm room," Neff remarked.
"Yeah, but stay here? We hadn't really discussed that--"
"We're all decided, Prince," Malachi cut in. "It's not safe for you to be living in those dorms by yourself anyway. Of course, if you don't want to live with us..."
"No, of course I do. I just don't want to be intruding; I'm already taking Malachi's bed and all."
"Now how could you possibly be intruding? We want you here. You know that."
"I--" Mamoru paused. "Oh, why the hell am I arguing with you? It's not like I can go live with that little ... Lunette, and being all alone in a dorm right now would probably not be best for my sanity or my livelihood."
"It's settled. I'll take my couch for the rest of the semester, until we can get you a room." Malachi drained the last sip of coffee from his mug, and went to pour himself some more.
"Hey, I didn't say--"
"I know! Why don't you two share a bed?" Jed waggled his eyebrows. "Everybody wins then, right?"
"You are this close to getting hit, Jed." Malachi threw him a look that left little room for argument. Jed timidly went back to drinking his coffee. "You're probably hungry, aren't you Prince? When's the last time you've eaten anything?"
Mamoru paused. When was the last time he had eaten? Yesterday he had been too busy running from clones. The day before that... well there was that awful coffee in the cafeteria, and the bottle of water Malachi gave him. Those hardly counted as food. And before that? He tried to think, but his mind was drawing a complete blank.
He caught the worried glances of his friends. "I guess I haven't exactly been keeping up on meal times," he said lamely.
"You haven't eaten anything in the last three days." It wasn't a question - Malachi knew.
"Um, if you want to put it that way, yes."
The white-haired man groaned, infinitely weary. "Mamoru, you take worse care of yourself than even these boobs."
"Hey!" Jed looked, mildly wounded, over at Malachi.
"Sorry." Though he wasn't particularly sorry about it. "Prince, you're going to eat something, even if I have to spoon-feed you."
"I bet he'd like some other spooning," Neff muttered, and was kicked under the table by Zory. Unlike his blonde friend, the brunette just smirked as he rubbed his swelling knee.
"It's not as though I've been intentionally starving myself." Mamoru wearily ran his hand through his hair. "I've been so busy fighting these clones, I've hardly had time for anything."
Malachi eyed him critically. "Okay then, what about before that?"
"Well I did have a test to study for." He put his head in his hand. "A test that I wasn't there to take."
"Are you seriously telling me that you were too involved with studying to spend an hour getting at least one decent meal?"
"Lay off him, Malachi. He's already having a hard enough time without you lecturing him about it." Zory put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "No wonder you've been fainting so much, Prince."
Jed resignedly stood up. "Alright then, time to make some breakfast."
Neff and Zory immediately followed. "You sit here and enjoy your coffee, Prince," said the blonde, his hand still on Mamoru's shoulder. "We'll have something ready for you in no time."
As if by some unseen signal, all four of the men immediately became busy. Jed fired up the stove, while Zory looked up something in a recipe book. Neff made a disturbingly fast beeline for the knives and began chopping up something or other on the cutting board. Mamoru did not have a clue what they were making, but they seemed to know what they were doing.
Malachi poured the last few drops of coffee into Mamoru's "CRISIS" mug. "I'll make another pot."
"But--You don't have to--I'm just--..." Mamoru tried to get their attention, explain that they didn't need to go all out; he could walk to the cafeteria and get an "omelette." Unfortunately, they showed no signs of stopping.
"Do we have eggs?" Zory eyed the recipe book critically.
Malachi poured coffeegrounds into the machine. "Depends. Did Jed try to make his 'famous' scramble yesterday?"
"Well, the kitchen is still here."
"Ha ha." Jed muttered, digging through the fridge. "Yes, there's eggs."
"Halleluja. Give 'em here before you drop them."
Mamoru sighed, realizing he had no chance of getting their attention now that they were so determined. At least they seemed to be enjoying themselves--when they weren't bickering, that is. //Actually,// he thought as he watched them, //they seem to have the most fun when they're teasing each other.// Everyone seemed to have a rather set idea of what their job was, with Zory carefully giving directions, Jed manning the stove, Neff chopping up everything that could possibly be chopped, and Malachi cleaning up all the messes they made. They maneuvered around each other with an efficiency born of familiarity, only getting in someone's way when they were intentionally trying to get on everyone's nerves.
"Jed, put down that spatu--" Malachi was interrupted when something in his pocket began to beep perklily to the tune of "AlegrĂa."
"...Malachi? Your ass is ringing," Neff pointed out, as the white haired man whipped a small cellphone out of his pocket and tossed it to a surprised Mamoru.
"I thought this thing was dead," he muttered, opening it warily. "Hello?"
"Mamo--"
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Chiba? Where do you think you get off having sex with other girls WHILE YOUR FIANCÉ IS ON THE DAMN PHONE?"
It should be noted that, although Mamoru tended not to be easily shaken, as soon as he heard that angry voice over his phone, he wanted to wet himself.
"You're lucky you're on the the other side of the fucking world, you asshole. Otherwise you'd already be lying in a ditch somewhere, lacking some very essential parts." Mamoru did not say anything. He had lost his voice out of sheer terror.
There was a scuffle on the other end, the muffled sound of shouting and of the phone being dropped a few times before exchanging hands. "JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU FUCKING JERK!" Rei's screaching voice was such that Mamoru had to hold the phone away from his ear, just to save his eardrums. "Where do you get the gall to lie to everyone? To lie to ME even!"
Suddenly, there were at least four voices shouting at him, seemingly all pressed up to the same reciever. Admist the unintelligible, Mamoru could hear such things as:
"Gonna beat your ass in..."
"And she was up all night worrying..."
"And then I'll take a crowbar, and..."
"She hasn't cried so much since they discontinued those Sailor Moon action figures..."
"You'll be crying for your mommy..."
"I am so going to torch you..."
As though it were on fire, Mamoru threw the phone on the table, looking just about as though he were going to pass out. Well, it didn't much matter now whether Usagi was willing to forgive him or not - he would never make it back to Japan alive.
Out of some sick sense of curiosity, Malachi picked the phone up off the table and listened. The wrath that was pouring out of Mamoru's cellphone was far too much for even him to handle, and it was quickly sent clattering onto the floor, where it rolled up against Jed's feet.
Jed prided himself on his ability to laugh in the face of any insult. This was mostly due to the fact that they were directed at him on a regular basis, making him quite experienced in the matter. When he picked the cell up off the floor, he listened with a mildly amused expression on his face, nodding occasionally as if to urge the girls to continue. After listening intently for a few minutes he chirped in perfect Japanese, "You'll do what to his what?"
There was a collective silence on the other end of the phone. "...Who the hell is this?" Rei said sharply.
"Oh, just a friend of the guy you're threatening, no one really important. But hey, here's an idea: how about you lay off a guy who's barely slept or ate in the past three days and has been running for his life?"
After the constant drone of screaming, the silence on the other end was deafening. Jed grinned, knowing full well he had their attention. "If Haruka-san's listening, you can let her know that her evil counterpart has already maimed him with the Space Sword, so she won't need to bother doing that now. She'll also be pleased to know that despite what she may think, the story Mamoru told her before was no lie." The smile on his face was positively evil. "I'm sure if you ask her about it, she might be able to clear up one or two things for you."
When no response seemed forthcoming, Jed chirped, "It's been lovely, but I think the object of your affections is about to either piss in his pants or pass out. Perhaps both. Call again some time, okay?"
Quickly, before anyone had the wherewithall to respond, Jed ended the call. "Mamoru, you have wonderful friends. That Rei-chan? What a pistol."
Mamoru whimpered feebly, looking at the cellphone placed before him as though it was going to jump up and eat his face off.
"Prince?" Malachi put down the mug of coffee warily, putting his now free hands on his friend's shoulders. "Are you okay?"
He noticed, with great concern, how much his Prince's shoulders were shaking.
"Prince?" Zory said softly, sitting down next to him.
"I... I guess I can't blame them," Mamoru croaked, his voice wavering as though he was on the verge of tears. "This was all my fault. If I hadn't... God, Malachi, what have I done?"
Malachi squeezed his shoulders sympathetically. "What are you talking about? You haven't done anything, Prince. Unless you count fighting clones as a cardinal sin."
"No, not...not that. If I had just stayed on the phone with Usagi, I could have tried to explain. But now they'll never trust me again. I basically admitted to her that I'd been cheating. The Senshi won't even let me get one foot off the airplane before they tear me to pieces. I've just confirmed all their secret thoughts for what kind of guy I am. If I want to live, I can't leave this continent."
"That's got to be an overdramatization of things, Prince." Neff raised an eyebrow. "After trying to protect you for so long, they'd just as soon really gore you with various pointy things?"
"Faster than you could say 'Space Sword Blaster,' Neff. Oh, God, I-I hoped that maybe I'd be able to fix this..."
"Of course you can still fix it, Prince." Zory put a hand on his arm. "They may not have any faith in you right now, but they've been your friends for years. Once they hear about what's really been happening, they'll understand."
"Are you kidding? Now that they're so certain I've been cheating on her, anything I try to tell them will sound like nothing but a lame excuse. It doesn't even matter whether Usako can forgive me now; whether she does or not, they'll never let me near her again." A barely audible sob escaped this throat. "Not to mention that I've betrayed the trust of eight of my friends."
"Someone's got to be levelheaded enough to see through this. Ami? Setsuna? Surely they--"
Mamoru snorted derisively. "You'd think. But Haruka and Rei are persuasive. Give them ten minutes, they'll have the Mamoru is an Evil Bastard Homepage up before you can even get your computer started."
"Prince, I hate to sound stupid--shut up, Zory--but I'd hardly call people who want nothing more than my head on a stick 'friends.'" Jed coughed. "Not that our track record is particularly spotless, I know, but we weren't swearing to protect you at the time."
"By the looks of it, I don't think they are anymore, either." Any appetite that Mamoru might have otherwise had was now gone. He felt as though someone had taken a swing at his stomach with a baseball bat, and he was pretty sure that if he had eaten anything recently, he would have thrown up by now.
Malachi moved around to Mamoru's side and knelt down by his chair. His friend still continued to shake slightly, and he had gone distressingly pale. "You don't look too good, Prince. I think you'd better lay down until breakfast is ready. The guys will bring it to you when it's ready, won't they?" He threw a glance up at the other three, who quickly nodded.
"Of course we will." Zory gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile, but Mamoru was too busy staring at the table to take much notice. "You go get some rest, Prince."
Mamoru's legs felt like lead as Malachi gently pulled him to his feet and guided him towards the bedroom. The effort made him feel faint, and by the time he collapsed onto the bed, he felt as though the room was spinning around him.
He expected Malachi to return to the kitchen to help with the food, but the white-haired man remained next to him, seated on the edge of the bed. Mamoru was rather glad to have the company. Considering how often he needed to be saved from himself lately, he was not sure whether being alone would be such a good thing right now.
Malachi sighed inwardly as he watched his Prince roll onto his side and curl into a fetal ball of misery. Things had been going good for once! Alright, so maybe Mamoru had not yet returned to full health, but the fact that he had not been attacked, seriously injured, or fainted all morning had been a really good sign. But now, just when things were starting to look up, this had to happen. Malachi had never had a reason to dislike the Sailor Senshi in the past, but at the moment he was holding them in about as high regard as he did their evil clones.
...Well, come to think of it, he did have a reason to dislike them in the past, but that was a part of his life he had just finished throwing up over and he rather wanted to think about other things for awhile.
Quietly, nearly inaudible, Mamoru sobbed into a pillow. His life had, in a matter of minutes, gone from "not too bad" to "where's the rope and the nearest ceiling beam?" He felt a hand on his back, rubbing in gentle circles, but it gave him very little comfort.
Everything he had come to know and love was slipping through his fingers. It was as though someone had reached the decision that his life was going far too good and thus smote him for this horrible crime. His two years of happiness had come to an abrupt and bitter end, and he had once again had his life reduced to a state of perpetual loneliness.
"I'm sorry, Prince." Malachi leaned in, pressing his warmth against Mamoru's back. The black-haired man obviously needed all the reassurence he could get, and everyone else in the house be damned if they thought he was doing inappropriate things.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, breathing lightly on his prince's neck. "I wish I could fix this..."
He slid an arm beneath his Prince's chest, holding him close. Through the thin fabric of his "Azabu" t-shirt, the white-haired man could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, shaken by the sharp sobs that caused his whole body to tremble. He could feel, too, the rhythmic, steady throb of his heartbeat, and beneath that, the equally steady glow of the Golden Crystal.
"I want my Usa!" Mamoru sobbed, his words muffled and rendered nearly unintelligible by the pillow that he had shoved his face into.
Malachi tried to translate what had sounded like "I wumf my umfmmf," but had no success whatsoever. He wrapped his other arm around Mamoru's waist, so in essence, anyone who walked in at that moment would have assumed they were spooning.
Silently, he damned himself for not locking his door after they came in. His only hope was that someone would come in with the breakfast and leave without asking questions.
Of course, had Malachi truly cared about this, he would have simply gotten up and locked his door. But truth be told, his Prince was far more important to him than any reputation he might have otherwise maintained, and nothing could make him let go of Mamoru now, not even the threat of someone barging in on them.
He was quite used to the culture that stated that men cannot display open shows of affection for one another without something else going on in the bedroom. But Kunzite's extended memories brought back to him a time and place when friendly hugs were more common than handshakes, and when no one would have thought twice about his rather close relationship with the Prince. And while he may not have been living in that time any more, he'd be damned if he was going to let Mamoru face this alone. He did not possess the same powers as his Prince; he could not heal his emotional wounds with the touch of his hand. But at the very least, he could be there for him.
"I'm sorry," Malachi whispered close to his ear. "There's nothing I can do to make this any better."
Mamoru sniffled quietly. "I'm just glad you guys are with me. If I had to do this alone, I...I don't think I could make it."
"We'll always be here for you, Prince. Always." The white-haired man pulled his friend toward him further, so that they were one giant mass of sheets and limbs. "Right now, it's all we can do. But you'll never be alone while we're around, I swear it. I would sooner eat Jed's omlettes than abandon you."
The prince tried to laugh, but he found that he just couldn't. His few chuckles quickly dissolved back into sobs, and he curled in on himself and around Malachi's strong arms. At that moment, it was probably the warmest, safest place in the world.
Malachi obligingly held him tighter, his face half-burrowed in the mess of black hair in front of him. He could not imagine what his Prince was going through right now. The only personal equivalent he could think of would be if the other Shitennou--no, the entire frat house--had turned their backs on him. They weren't just friends to him; they were his family, the people he had come to trust and depend upon. He knew that Mamoru, lacking a lifetime of personal relationships, had come to think of the Sailor Senshi as much more than friends or comrades. Even without taking the loss of his fiance into account, to suddenly lose all of them at once like this could be nothing short of devastating.
"Do you remember the promise that I made to you yesterday?" Malachi asked softly, his voice slipping into Japanese as though he had spoken it his entire life.
If Mamoru could have smiled at that moment, he would have. He never thought the sound of his mother tongue could be so comforting. Even the effort of comprehending the words of his second language had become strenuous to him. "Yes," he croaked feebly between sobs.
"That promise still stands. Even if the entire world abandons you, we never will."
Jed tucked the steaming tray of food - coffee, hash browns, scrambled eggs - under his arm precariously. Before he could even get his hand on the doorknob, he was touched on the shoulder by Zory.
"Leave them," the feminine blonde said quietly. He inclined his head in the direction of the door. "I doubt the prince is -really- up to eating, after that phone call. And if I know Malachi, he's probably got the prince in a very embarassing bearhug that he'd rather not have unsuspecting fratboys stumble upon."
"Well," Jed peered down at the food under his arm, "I guess -we're- having breakfast, then."
Zory sighed as he entered the kitchen. "We can bring them what's left when we're done eating. Mamoru might hopefully be up to it by then." He pulled a plate out of the cupboard and started loading it with hashbrowns. "That is, if we can prevent rampaging frat boys from demolishing it first. Soon as they smell it, you know they'll come crawling out of the woodwork."
"I'll beat 'em off with a stick if they come within a foot of the Prince's food," Neff drawled, nibbling on a piece of bacon while he read the sports section.
"Why not with a knife?" Jed asked, putting a plastic dome over Mamoru's food to keep it warm.
"You kidding? I wouldn't want to cook with them after I'd hacked those sleezy, drunken wads to pieces."
Zory looked a shade greener as he sat down, plate in one hand and cup of coffee in another. "Well, gee, thank you for that, Neff."
"Any time," Neff said, over a mouthful of bacon. It came out sounding distinctly more like "Mnf ngh."
Mamoru sniffled quietly, most of his tears spent. He did not exactly feel any better about his situation, but if he cried any longer, he would likely shrivel up from dehydration. He sighed deeply, feeling Malachi's warm breaths against his neck and the strong arms that wrapped around him like a blanket. He could not begin to express how thankful he was for his friend's presence.
"Do you think she'll miss me?" he muttered into the pillow.
"Oh, Prince, don't give up on this yet. I know it looks bad, but I've seen you and Serenity been seperated by entire legions of lunarian subjects, -and- her mother. Thousands upon thousands of people, compared to eight? I think your odds are better."
"But those thousands of people wouldn't castrate me upon sight."
"No, they tend not to do that to royalty, but you know what I mean."
"I can't ever go back to Japan. And even if I don't, they'd probably still find a way to track me down here. The others may not be able to afford it, but Haruka-san could easily buy a plane ticket." He snorted. "Actually, she'd probably pay for the whole lot of them to come here, just to execute me."
"And if that were to happen, they would have to get past us before they could lay a finger on you."
Mamoru squeezed the rough hand that rested against his chest. As much as it pained him to think of what might happen to his friends if they protected him from such an onslaught, it was somehow comforting to have someone to fight for him.
"What if I never see her again?"
"You will, Prince. Because she loves you every bit as much as you love her. Even if you really had cheated on her, she'd find it in her heart to forgive you."
"Malachi, we're the Romeo and Juliet of the modern era, and you know it."
"Yeah, but I already preempted your suicide part, didn't I? And you know the last thing the Senshi would ever do is let Usagi kill herself." Malachi buried his face into Mamoru's hair, nose rubbing against the man's scalp. "If Usagi wants to see you badly, she will find a way to do it, one way or the other. If she has to hop a plane, if she has to run away from the Senshi and change her name and dye her hair pink, she'll do it."
"You really think so?"
"You'd do it for her, wouldn't you?"
"I think it would be rather difficult to dye my hair pink."
"Yes, and lavendar is so far off." Mamoru half-heartedly elbowed him in the ribs.
Malachi chuckled and pushed himself up on his elbow, leaning over the black-haired prince. He softly brushed the backs of his knuckles across Mamoru's cheek, wiping away the tears that covered his entire face. "Your pillow's all soaked now. That can't be comfortable."
Mamoru sniffled and sat up, with some help from his friend, while Malachi rearranged the pillows so that he would not have to be laying in a puddle of his own tears. When he lay back down again, he was facing the white-haired man, who sat with his back against the headboard. He draped an arm around Mamoru, rhythmically stroking his back. Mamoru curled up with his face resting against his soft cotton shirt, the light scents of cologne and mint, strangely accented with the smell of fresh snow, filling his nostrils.
"I've missed this," the prince murmured, snuggling in closer. He hadn't remembered how good it felt to have Kunzite comforting him, but somehow it had come trickling back in the last few minutes. He felt protected here, almost as much as he did when he was holding his Usako. It was as though they were seperate from the world; nothing could touch them.
"There are so many times I wish I could have done this in the last two years," Malachi--Kunzite, rather--said quietly. "Being stuck in a rock rather eliminates the possibility of hugging."
"I know how hard it must have been for you, always watching me but never being able to do anything to help me. I loved having you there and being able to talk to you, but... it just wasn't the same."
"There were so many nights when I watched you sleeping, knowing what you were going through. And I... I thought that the only thing I truly wanted was to be able to reach out and touch your face, to be able to give you that comfort that you so often needed."
"I don't know how I could survive this whole evil clone mess without you. If I could." Mamoru sniffled quietly. "You know, you're the first person in almost ten years to see me cry."
"Well, I'd say I was honored, but considering the circumstances, you'll forgive me if I don't." Malachi touched his friend's face gently, holding the tear-stained cheek as though it were fragile. "Do you want to eat something now, or are you still too uncomfortable?"
Mamoru groaned. "They went to all that trouble to cook breakfast for me, and I had to have a PMS attack. I hate to let it go to waste, but..."
"Don't feel obligated to eat, Prince. They're probably just as happy as I am to be occupied by doing things for you; three hours from now, if you proclaimed that you wanted a stuffed pig for dinner, they'd find some way to do it, and you wouldn't even have to ask twice. That's how excited they are. Besides, it won't go to waste. You're living in a house full of college boys. No food ever lasts more than four hours in this house without being eaten."
Mamoru smiled wanly. "If I weren't such a nice person, I'd be very interested in testing that theory. I'd especially like to know how they would manage to cook the thing."
Malachi snickered. "Actually, they did it at last spring's end-of-the-year kegger. I believe they dug a pit in the beach volleyball court. Darn thing still smells like ham."
"You live in a very interesting place, Malachi. I get the feeling that staying here after living alone for the past several years will take some getting used to."
"Oh, you'll grow to like it. The guys get on your nerves sometimes, like when they 'borrow' important things, like your toothbrush, or when they keep you up half the night listening to The Pointer Sisters. But there's never a dull moment around here, and it's really rather nice having so many people around who think of you as a friend." Malachi wondered idly whether that was why Tethys had sent them to a frat house, of all places. Their friendships with the other frat boys had helped them learn how to live as normal human beings. Well, as normal as drunken college students could be.
"You know, I'm supposed to be living here now, but I don't even know the name of this place. Aren't American frat houses supposed to be named after Greek letters or something?"
"It's called Epsilon Xi."
"That sounds like cheap sci fi."
"Yeah, those Greeks were really big on Farscape and The Matrix back in their day."
"And I have to know: do you guys ever get anything academic done in here?"
The white-haired man chuckled. "Zory and I are both majoring in Geological Sciences; we take the same classes, and often study together. Neff is minoring in GeoSci, but majoring in Culinary Arts, which means he spends more time in the kitchen than the library. Jed...Well, half the time we aren't sure what he's studying. I think he's changed his major four times in half as many years. He apparently passes all the classes he takes, but I couldn't even tell you what they are."
"So he's an Italian-statistical-psychological-computer science-biochemistry-music major?"
"Yeah, something like that. You'll have to ask him; he gives a different answer every time."
As if right on cue, the door opened and Jed poked his head inside. "Hey, sorry if I'm disturbing you guys. I was just wondering whether the Prince is up to eating." He pointedly ignored the fact that the two looked rather like they were snuggling. Normally it would be at the butt of all his jokes for at least a week, but it did not seem appropriate to be making fun of Mamoru at a time like this.
Malachi ran his fingers through the black locks of Mamoru's hair. "I know you're not hungry, but you should try to eat something, even if it's just a couple bites. I don't want you getting sick on top of everything else."
The prince sighed. "You're right. I can't afford to start passing out from vitamin deficieny now. Not when my face is going to be on every wanted poster in Juuban, and any number of other districts."
The blonde opened the door all the way with his foot, bearing the tray he had intended to deliver sooner. "Don't force yourself, Prince. Just eat what you feel like; it's not like it'll go to waste, or anything."
Malachi coughed in an attempt to smother a laugh. Mamoru just regarded Jed with something like a smile. "Thanks."
The other two followed Jed in, Neff carrying a second plate of food for Malachi. As the white-haired man helped him sit up, Mamoru dimly noted how weak he felt. His lack of decent nutrition over the past few days doubtlessly had something to do with that.
He looked down at the tray that Jed carefully set on his lap. It certainly looked good. At least, he was fairly confident that it would not poison him in any way (and when one has eaten Usagi's baking, one must take these sorts of things into account).
He took a small experimental bite of scrambled eggs. Still chewing, he gave the chefs a vague half-smile. "It's pretty good."
Zory smiled brilliantly. "It would've been better if Jed hadn't put so much pepper in."
"Excuse me, but some of us don't like our breakfast tasting like drywall," Jed remarked, crossing his arms.
Mamoru had not realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. After that, the eggs hardly stood a chance, and the hashbrowns were no better off.
Malachi tried very, very hard to surpress yet more laughter as Mamoru nearly inhaled the plate of food. He may have thought himself not terribly hungry, but his stomach obviously had other ideas. The white-haired man took his own taste of the eggs; Jed had gotten a little carried away with the pepper, but he was rather keen on spicy foods, anyway, and didn't mind much.
"We'll be in the kitchen if you need anything else." Zory exited the bedroom with a small wave, Jed not far behind him.
"So, are they cuddly in there or whaaaAAAHH!" The sound of Neff screaming was followed by the sound of a chair tipping over, and then "...ow."
"Serves you right," they could hear Zory say. "Leave those two alone. This is hardly the time for teasing."
Malachi smirked at the closed door. It wasn't often that Zory managed to inflict pain on his much larger companion. Mamoru hardly noticed the noise; he was far too busy demolishing his pile of hashbrowns. "Hey, don't forget to chew it," Malachi said teasingly.
Mamoru gave him a sheepish look as he swallowed a mouthful. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm a little more hungry than I realized."
"You apologize way too much, Prince. Just make sure you don't choke while you're inhaling it. I'm a little rusty at the Heimlich maneuver."
"We'd have to settle for Neff pounding you on the back!" Jed called. After a moment, he added, "As soon as he regains consciousness!"
Mamoru nearly did choke on his hashbrowns then. "He is kidding, right?"
"Most likely. Neff's got a thick head."
"Heard that!"
There was silence for a moment.
"You know what you need?"
Mamoru looked up briefly from his cup of coffee, expectant.
"Put down that cup first. And move that tray to the nightstand."
The prince did as he was instructed. Not seconds after he'd taken his fingers off the wooden tray, the white-haired man came vaulting across the bed, coming face to face with a wide-eyed Mamoru before they both went tumbling off the bed and onto the carpet.
"...the hell was that, Malachi?" Mamoru stuttered, staring up at the man currently occupying a position on top of him.
"Well, it was meant to be a rather large bear hug. What can I say? I'm zealous."
"I obviously don't understand the definition of 'bear hug' if it involves being tackled to the floor."
"Do I want to know what's going on in there?" Jed called from the kitchen.
"I doubt it."
"Hey, I'm just trying to make you feel better, here. When's the last time you've been hugged like that?"
"Never. Unless Usako put on an extra ninety pounds and dyed her hair white."
"Well then, you should feel special for having such a privilege."
"Being crushed by a two-hundred pound man is a privilege?"
"I weigh one-ninety, thank you very much." The white-haired man smirked down at him. "And it is a privilege."
"Okay, now you're freaking me out. Get off me, you sick bastard."
"Nah. This is way more fun."
"Are you going to get off, or do I have to make it a royal order?" Mamoru raised one eyebrow, challengingly.
"Well, being the sick bastard I am, I might just enjoy that." Malachi raised the opposite eyebrow. "Yeah, baby."
"I'm not listening!" Zory called, turning on the kitchen faucet. "La la la la la la!"
"See, this was one thing I definitely didn't miss."
"Oh, you loved it and you know it."
"No, really, I think there's a reason I blocked this part from my mind."
"Because you didn't want to admit to your secret passionate relationship with him?" Neff shouted over the sound of the running water.
"Do I have to hurt you, Malachi?"
"Depends. Would you like to?"
"That's it, you're in for it now." The black-haired prince suddenly shoved Malachi off him and, before the other man could react, wrestled him to the ground.
"Ooh, getting rough. I knew you'd come around." The humor was glittering evilly in Malachi's eyes.
"Fine, I'll play along," Mamoru grinned, his hands clamped down on his friend's wrists.
"Still not listening!" Zory bellowed.
"Oh, but we are!" Neff and Jed chimed, almost in unison.
Maybe it was the fact that eight women were probably huddled around a dark desk, planning his demise. Maybe it was because he was in the middle of the most star-crossed love affair in recent memory. Or maybe it was because he was living in a frat house with four men who were previously rocks. Whatever it was, the prince decided that he could do away with the last thread of his sanity for the time being and just do whatever the hell he felt like.
Which, at the moment, was making Malachi sorry he'd ever "hugged" him in the first place.
Malachi wrenched his wrists out of Mamoru's grip and with an emphatic growl wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and pulled him face-first onto the carpet. "Getting a little rusty, aren't you Prince? Too much studying, perhaps?"
"Don't break him, Malachi! We'd like to keep him around a while." Shouted Jed between fits of stifled laughter.
Mamoru squirmed out from under the offending arm and pushed Malachi down beneath him, forcing his full weight against the white-haired man's back to keep him pinned down. "I'm not the one who's been living in a rock for the past two years. Rolled off any tables lately, Malachi?"
"No, I'm much more partial to beds now, considering I have limbs." Malachi bucked his legs and with a quick move, flipped their positions so that he was bearing down on the smaller prince.
"And other things," he purred, almost too enthusiastically, into Mamoru's ear.
//This is getting to be way too much fun. The things I do to help him.//
"Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?" the black-haired man said, muffled by the carpet.
"Damn, am I that transparent?"
"Any more transparent, and you'd be able to replace that window I broke. I can see your less-than-pure intentions." Mamoru whipped around and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him down on the floor next to him and planting a shoulder in his chest.
"Among other things." He grinned wickedly, his nose inches from Malachi's.
"And you call me the sick bastard."
"Takes one to know one?"
"This is true." Malachi paused. "You know, I almost feel like we should be wearing only fig leaves to do this. It's only fair; traditional, you know?"
"You just want to see my ass, Malachi." Mamoru shook his head. "Transparent like a window."
"You know we're still out here, right?" Neff asked. "And listening to every word you say?"
"Do we need to sound-proof your room, Malachi?" Zory called.
"If you don't like it, you can go somewhere else."
"Not a chance in hell!" Chimed Jed. "Quick Neff, get the video camera!"
Mamoru snickered at the closed door. "They're almost as frightening as you are."
"Thank you."
"I didn't really intend that as a compliment."
"Pity, that."
Before the part-wrestling, part-nearly illicit behavior could get any further, there was a slight rumble above on the rafters.
"Did you hear that?" Mamoru asked, sounding the slightest bit anxious.
"Hear what?"
There was a most definite crunch the second time, followed by the sound of a body falling from above him.
"Guess who's back, Mister Meanypants!"
Mamoru didn't have time to guess, not that he needed to. The cold, curved silver blade up against his neck was the only clue he needed.
"Alright Malachi, enough doing indecent things to--" As the door swung open, Neff stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the horrible image of his Prince kneeling on the floor with the deadly tip of a Silence Glaive at his throat.
"I told you I'd bring you silence," the little girl said sweetly, her braided pigtails bobbing as she tilted her head to the side.
"This time," she continued softly, brushing the blade ever-so-gently against his skin, "we'll do it nice and quick, alright Mister?"
"Don't even think about it," Neff growled. He began to advance on the little girl, but when she giggled airily, he paused.
Slowly, with the precision of a doctor, she pulled the blade along Mamoru's throat. The line of blood was as thin as a papercut, but much more deadly.
"You take one more step, mister, and I'm gonna cut his head off." Harmony grinned down at Malachi, who'd gone paler than a ghost under his prince's weight. "And what a mess that would be."
"Prince!" Zory gasped, staring at Mamoru over Neff's shoulder. He and Jed looked just as desperate as Neff to rush to his rescue.
Mamoru glared up at Harmony, hardly daring to breathe for fear of accidently slicing his throat open. He came to a conclusion then: he hated this little girl. He hated the fact that she had nearly killed Malachi. He hated the fact that she wanted his head on a stick. But more than that, he hated the fact that she had interrupted one of the only moments of "bonding time" that he had had with his friend in his entire life, and that to him was far more important than any overdeveloped sense of masochism that he may have had. To him it was no longer a matter of self-preservation. He wanted her dead.
------
Some notes to the reader:
If you're curious about the logic behind the Shitennou's attacks, the idea came from Buddhist mythology. Each direction on the compass is guarded by one of the mythological Shitennou, as well as a celestial creature known as the Ssu Ling. These creatures are the Black Tortoise of the North, the Red Bird of the South, the Blue Dragon of the East, and the White Tiger of the West.
Also, where does everyone get the idea that the Senshi are going to fly over to America? We're just going to pull a Deus ex Machina, and nine high school girls, most of whom do not have the funds nor the wherewithall to fly across the Pacific, are going to appear? Likewise, five boys are going to abandon their college educations, which we can assure you is not looked highly upon by the staff, so the Shitennou can meet up with their TWOO WUVS and live HAPPILY EVER AFTER in Tokyo?
Just because the Shitennou are in a story does NOT mean they automatically hook up the Senshi. That is one of the purposes of this story. The Shitennou are people, not just pairing objects. Aside from phone conversations, and the occasional scene IN JAPAN, the Senshi are not making any appearences. Those of you dying for Senshi/Shitennou romance are reading the wrong story, and we suggest you seek out others if that's aboslutely necessary for your enjoyment.
We realize we've probably pissed off half the people who read this fic, but these things have to be said. All flames can, again, be directed to The White House, District of Columbia, United States.
~Spirit-hime and AngelAnne
Chapter 5
//anything between slashes are thoughts//
Disclaimer: Anything you read into Mamoru and Malachi's relationship is purely your own fault, as a reader and interpreter. You hear us? YOUR fault. Not ours. We assume no responsibility for what dirty things go on in YOUR minds.
Real Disclaimer: We've decided, in all fairness, to up the rating on this fic. Between those two and their ... antics, and all the battle gore, it's probably appropriate.
------
The scream of excruciating pain faded, but the echoes continued to reverberate long after their source had died out, shivering throughout the playground equipment like the chords of a song.
A single drop of blood trickled down the blade of the Glaive. And then it was not one drop, but many, soaking the clean metal in a wash of dark crimson that ran down onto the grass.
"Idiot," Kunzite softly growled between struggled breaths. "Why weren't you fighting back?"
Mamoru's eyes snapped open in shock. Kunzite? But how...?
"Kunzite, how did you get here?" he asked, a tiny trickle of blood escaping onto his lips.
"Not everyone is as hopeless at teleporting as you, Prince," Kunzite wheezed.
Harmony squacked in surprise, yanking her Glaive back out of the intruding body. Kunzite yelped at the pain, clutching his giant horizontal wound. It did very little good; every second, pint upon pint of blood poured out and soaked his white uniform.
Kunzite slumped to his prince's feet, unable to stay standing. "You can't just die, Prince! Not after all you went through to bring us back!"
//Finally, someone with sense!// the voice in Mamoru's head cried. //What are you waiting for? Transform already! The longer you wait, the less time Kunzite has to live!//
Mamoru was paralyzed. He wanted to help his friend, knew that it was urgent, but somehow he could no more make his body obey him than flap his arms and start flying. Only one thought kept rolling through his mind, like the skipping on a scratched CD. //What have I done...//
"Kunzite!" Someone shouted, and suddenly Zoisite moved into his line of sight, kneeling down next to the white-haired man, who was growing more and more pale by the second. Two other figures appeared in Mamoru's blurred vision, standing between him and Harmony.
"Ready for this, Jadeite?" Nephrite smirked over at his friend.
"Damn right I am," Jadeite replied as an aura of blue energy began to glow around his hand.
//Do you see what's happening here?// The strange voice echoed around in Mamoru's head. //If you won't fight to save yourself, they will! Malachi is dying for you, Mamoru, and the others will too if you don't do something!//
Without any of the necessary sparkles and happy fluff that are considered for a normal attack, Jadeite thrust his hand forward. Within a split-second, a dragon made purely of water exploded from his palm, sending Harmony squealing onto her little lacey rearend.
"That's a cool trick," he commented, almost in awe. He turned his hand over and over. "Could I do that before?"
//Mamoru! Hurry the hell up; Kunzite only has maybe five minutes of life left! You, as a doctor of all people, should know that!//
The liquid oriental dragon slithered through the air like a snake, droplets of rain falling from its hide. Harmony screamed and curled into a ball on the ground as the creature soared over her a second time, sending a spray of burning rain upon her. Jadeite reached out and allowed a few droplets to spill into his hand. Funny, it didn't feel any different than normal rain. With a cheerful twirl of its tail, the dragon sent a few final splatters in the little girl's direction before vanishing completely.
"Shit." Saruna remarked, stamping out her cigarette in the sand. "Thought we was s'pposed ta be executin' princes tonight, not dodgin' fireworks."
"Hang on Kunzite," Zoisite whispered, making a futile effort to stop the bleeding. The larger man lay half-conscious in his arms, every breath sounding labored and painful.
//It's not that bloody difficult! Golden Crystal pops up, Golden Crystal makes everything go all shiny, Golden Crystal magically heals fatal wound, and voila! Best friend no longer dying.//
//You seem to forget,// Mamoru snapped, //that I myself am not in the best condition right now! Don't you think I want to help him? But God help me, I can't even move my arm to wipe the blood from my face!//
//Since when are HANDS necessary to manipulate your Crystal, idiot?//
Okay, so Mysterious Voice had a point. With whatever constituted concentration in his current mangled state, Mamoru focused on the warm weight in his chest. It had to be in there somewhere.
Slowly at first, spreading from his feet, a golden glow came over him. He hissed briefly as the pure light attempted to heal his various wounds; as his bloodied clothes were replaced by a crisp tuxedo, he wondered if it was enough to stop his internal bleeding, as well.
//At the very least, I'll live long enough to save Kunzite,// he thought. Bending down to take stock of his friend proved very difficult, as his knees creaked painfully beneath him.
Things were not much better once he had come to the ground level. Kunzite's wound spread over most of his torso, width-wise, but didn't appear to have gone all the way through or injured his spinal cord. There was, perhaps, still hope.
The white-haired man peered his prince through glassy, unseeing eyes. Everything in front of him - Mamoru, Zoisite, the tree - had converged into one blob of hideous colors; no facial features were discernable out of the mess.
Zoisite cast a worried glance up at Mamoru, who looked like he was only in minimally better shape than Kunzite, though the many gashes, scrapes, and bruises scattered across his face seemed to be healing rapidly. His focus immediately returned to the man in his arms, however, whose lips were moving as though he were trying to speak through his ragged breaths. Mamoru reassuringly laid a golden hand on his friend's forehead, and Kunzite immedately became still, knowing that his Prince was still there with him, even if he could no longer see him.
Mamoru held his other hand just above the gaping hole in Kunzite's chest. Normally he needed direct contact with a wound to heal it, but he was not sure it would be such a good idea to be sticking his hand in Kunzite's chest cavity, for a multitude of reasons. Hopefully, if he was strong enough to heal something like this in his more powerful state, he would be strong enough to work through the extra few atoms of space between them.
Nephrite raised an eyebrow at Jadeite. "Okay, if you can make giant water dragons, what can I do?"
Jadeite shrugged. "I dunno, gerbils perhaps?"
"I sure hope not," Nephrite muttered. Experimentally, he held out his hand, in the hopes that some flaming rodent was not going to pop out and accidentally devour him.
At first, nothing happened. But slowly, and then with increasing speed, a wind picked up. From behind him - or within him, no one was sure - an ethereal tiger shape appeared, bringing with it enormous gusts of air.
With no warning, the tiger lept foward, plowing into Sanura with the force of an oncoming train. She hit the sand roughly and was flipped up and slammed down by the winds for more than ten feet, finally slamming into a jungle gym.
"...Wow." Nephrite inspected his hand, wondering where exactly that had come from. "Okay, that's a whole lot better than a gerbil."
His thoughts were interrupted when an incredibly bright light flooded the playground, overpowering the weak streetlights and nearly blinding all of them. Mamoru had finally worked past his injuries enough to properly heal Kunzite, and was doing so with every drop of power he had. Zoisite fought to stay kneeling where he was, but being so close to Mamoru while he used so much power was like standing in the midst of a hurricane without so much as a windbreaker. It was all he could do to close his eyes and hang onto Kunzite.
"You...you're mean!" Harmony whined, standing up with her Glaive as her major support. "You hurt a little girl!"
"Yeah, and you just tried to gore my prince. All things considered, I think we're on an even playing field," Jadeite snapped back. The little girl lunged for him, attempting to slice his head off at the neck, but the blonde man ducked. He swung out his leg, swiping Harmony's out from underneath her and sending her flat on her back. She blasted him with purple energy, and he went sailing, landing upside down in a boat-shaped play structure.
Her moment of triumph was short-lived, however.
"Naughty children like you shouldn't be let out of the house." With very little remorse, Nephrite punched the little girl in the jaw just as she turned to face him. She butted him in the head with the blunt end of her Glaive, but he didn't seem phased in the slightest.
Kunzite's vision slowly began to clear, and he opened his eyes, watching the golden being kneeling above him healing his wounds. Though it was difficult to look directly at Mamoru without being completely blinded, he could still make out the worried expression on his Prince's face. "Stop looking so guilty, Prince. I'm not dead yet."
Mamoru smiled wanly as the last layer of skin grew back. //You were pretty damn close, though.// He did not say it, though. He would rather not say how close he was to losing the friend who had returned to him mere hours ago.
As Nephrite busied himself with fighting the deliquent child, Sanura quietly made her way to the occupied Prince. She was sent here to kill him, and dammit, she would do it whether these frat boys got in the way or not. "Chronos Typhoon!"
"Prince! Watch out!" Jadeite shouted, scrambling out of the piece of playground equipment.
Without even thinking, Mamoru turned and held his hand out. The typhoon rushed at him, but before it could begin to pummel him as it should have done, it seemed to get sucked up into his hand like a vacuum. Eventually, all that remained was a compact orb about the size of a billiard ball, resting in his palm. Surprised, Mamoru inspected the ball of typhoon in his hand. Swirls of grey and burgendy danced within it, restless with so much energy crammed into such a tiny space. "Now that's interesting."
"He..." Jadeite floundered, staring in awe.
"...caught it," Zoisite finished for him.
"Shit!" Out of other options, Sanura swung her Time Key like a baseball bat, hoping to come in contact with someone - anyone. Mamoru didn't flinch - he simply held up his arm to block the oncoming rod. The metal bounced off his arm as though it was rubber; frustrated, Sanura raised the Key and tried again. And again. And again.
Mamoru went back to distractedly watching the little orb in his hand, while his other arm continued to block oncoming attacks from Sanura. He'd have to tell Setsuna that her attacks really made lovely er... paperweights. He idly wondered what the other Sailor Senshi's attacks would look like in this form, and nearly snickered at the thought of someone having a ball of Death Reborn Revolution sitting on their desk.
Sanura let out a curse of frustration, and, sighing, his focus returned to her. He really did not feel like fighting right now.
The mohawked senshi took yet another swing at him, but he neatly dodged out of the way. She stumbled, not expecting to hit only air, and he swung his hand around and slammed the ball of Chronos Typhoon into her stomach. The orb exploded on impact, sending Saruna flying across the playground.
"Hey, you think you could do that at frat parties?" Jadeite asked, but was promptly punched on the thigh by Zoisite. "Ow! It was just a suggestion!"
"Prince?" Kunzite said groggily, his mouth dry and seemingly weighed down with marbles. His uniform was still covered in half-dried blood, but no more was forthcoming. Mamoru had healed him.
"What gave you the brilliant idea to die for me?" Mamoru asked, helping his friend sit up, with some assistance from Zoisite.
"I'm not dead! I feel fine! I think I'll go for a walk!"
"When you start quoting Monty Python, that's definitely not a good sign." Zoisite smiled, putting an arm behind his back to keep him sitting upright.
Mamoru did not find this overly amusing (mostly because he was not familiar with British comedy, being from Japan and all). "You need to take it easy, Kunzite. You lost a lot of blood."
"Uh, I hate to interrupt you and all Prince, but I think we've got a problem here!" shouted Jadeite. He and Nephrite had been holding off the two clones easily enough, but the task immediately became much more difficult when a third enemy decided to join in.
"You... you bastard!" Hasana screamed at Mamoru from across the playground, her voice nearly breaking with sobs. "You'll pay for what you did to my dear sweet love!"
//"Dear sweet love?" Oh, how Haruka would laugh if she heard that...// "You'll have to excuse me, guys. I think I need to help them out." Mamoru carefully transferred Kunzite into Zoisite's lap, getting to his feet. "Apparently, she's not very happy with me."
"Fucking right I'm not happy with you!" Hasana screamed. "How could you? How could you do that to me?!"
"Well, it was either her or me. All things considered? I'm a self-preservationist." //...Some of the time.//
"World Shaking!" The golden orb rumbled toward Mamoru's feet, but one sharp kick, and its trajectory was immediately reversed. Hasana moved to the side, barely missing her own attack as it bent one of the streetlamps in half.
Hasana made a juvenile noise of rage and frustration. "Stop doing that!"
"I'm sorry, should I hold still next time?"
"Yes, dammit!"
"The Prince is certainly into teasing his enemies, isn't he?" Zoisite muttered, keeping a firm grip on Kunzite.
Kunzite smiled wryly, watching Mamoru bounce another attack back in Hasana's direction. "Can you blame him?"
With a burst of very Haruka-like speed, Hasana crossed the playground in less than five seconds, Space Sword waving over her head. Mamoru gave no indication that he intended to move; indeed, he planted his feet and waited.
"Die, you heartless bastard," Hasana hissed, shoving the sword right through Mamoru's stomach.
"Prince!" Kunzite tried to get to his feet, but he was pushed firmly to the ground by Zoisite. "Zoisite, what the hell are you doing? We have to--"
Mamoru looked down at the glowing sword that had run him clean through. Blood started to seep out, but immediately stopped. He looked up at the blonde girl with an unusually evil smirk.
"And what did you intend to do after stabbing me?" he asked calmly, pulling the sword back out with very little effort.
Hasana gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish in open air. She stumbled backwards, Mamoru keeping up with her every step.
"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Kunzite," Zoisite said, smiling a little. "I think he knows what he's doing now."
"How about you go join your lover?" Mamoru asked viciously, grabbing Hasana by the collar. The blonde whimpered and tried to pry his hand away, but his grip was like a steel vice. "Tuxedo Mirage!" Without so much as a scream, Hasana vanished into dust before him.
Brushing Hasana dust off his hands, Mamoru turned to face the other two adversaries, who had watched the scene from the edge of the playground, by the jungle gym. Harmony cowered behind the other woman, hiding her face from the scary glowing guy. "Don't let him hurt me, Sanura-mama!" Sanura tried her best to look brave, but was shaking just as much as the little girl behind her.
"You know, five minutes ago, I was perfectly willing to let you kick the shit out of me," Mamoru drawled, watching the two senshi as a cat does a cornered mouse. "But then you made the fatal mistake of injuring my friend."
"Emphasis on fatal," he added mildly.
Harmony squeaked and clung to Sanura's legs, nearly knocking the woman over. "Getcher damn hands off me, brat!" She shouted, trying to pry the child off of her. "I'm not gonna be yer bloody shield jus' cuz you screwed up!"
"But he'll hurt me, Sanura-mama!"
"Well that's just too damn bad." She took ahold of Harmony's shoulder and shoved her towards Mamoru. The child squealed in fear when she realized how close she was to the big scary guy, and in her struggles to get away, her feet slipped in the sand and sent her falling onto her frilly rear end.
"Clean up your own mess, ya whelp," Sanura growled, and promptly vanished.
"But... but..." Harmony stared helplessly at the place where the biker woman no longer stood. When it finally began to register that her adopted mother was not going to come back and help her, the little girl began to wail. "Sanura-mama, wait for me!" Grabbing her Glaive out of the sand, she cast a tearful glance up at Mamoru. "I'm gonna get you, you big meanie!" Sobbing, she vanished.
The light surrounding Mamoru faded, taking his tuxedo with it. Reverting back to his normal form brought with it all kinds of pain, as the half-healed wounds covering his body once again made their presence known. His vision dipped into blackness as he dropped to his knees, thankful that the sand beneath him was so soft.
The three more healthy Shitennou were at his side in seconds, Kunzite limping along after them as best he could.
"Prince, are you okay?" Jadeite asked urgently, catching his prince before he could faceplant. It sounded like a stupid question, but not two seconds before, he had been glowingly vaporizing things left and right. Now, he looked as though he could not have vaporized a piece of paper with a match.
"I've been better," Mamoru wheezed, leaning on the blonde's arm as though it was a lifeline. His lung had probably been punctured; his transformation had bought him time, but he was practically a walking dead man. At least, with the spurt of power, he'd managed to keep Kunzite's attempted sacrifice from coming to completion. Now he could die with the satisfaction of at least doing one thing right.
He was taken by a painful coughing fit that shook his whole body, and when he took his hand away from his mouth it was wet with blood. "That doesn't look healthy," Nephrite muttered worriedly.
Kunzite, who had finally caught up with the other three, knelt in front of his Prince. "Funny how you could find all that power to save me, but you can't be bothered to do the same for yourself."
Mamoru looked up at him, his breaths coming in struggled gasps as his lungs tried desperately to hold onto any oxygen they could get. "I... I'm tired..." he began to say.
"Don't you fucking lie to me! Do you think I don't know what you were doing out here? I suppose you don't need to bother slashing your wrists when you've got enemies to do the job for you!"
Everyone was stunned into silence.
"I should have known you'd pull something stupid. I should have known!" Kunzite slammed his fist into the sand. "God, why did I even let you out of my sight?"
"Oh, not you, too," Mamoru spat, looking up at Kunzite in disgust. "First the Senshi, and now this. Does everybody think I'm useless in a fight?"
"When you nearly let a goth girl with pigtails spear you like sesame dango, I do!"
"You have to admit, Prince," Zoisite cut in, "all this seems a little excessive. The princess isn't dead, just angry. Give her some time to cool off, and--"
"Oh, so suddenly you're an expert at relationships?"
"Hey, I didn't say that!" Zoisite countered. "But you take things harder than anyone I know! You used to go on a hunger strike if a letter from Serenity was one day late!"
Mamoru did not have much to say to this, mostly because he had begun to cough again.
"Prince, you can't be reviving dead guardians and then run off to die on them," Jadeite said softly. "It doesn't work like that."
It finally dawned on Mamoru that he had failed to take into account what his death would mean to the Shitennou. He had been so busy hating himself that he had simply assumed that the rest of the world hated him too. It had never occured to him that maybe the people who had waited two long years to be with him again might not be overly pleased to lose him just as quickly.
If there was ever a time for an "oops," this would have been it.
//Okay. I'm dying from internal bleeding, which is bad. Stopping it would be good. Going about that is the tricky part.// His skin began to take on that familiar golden glow. //Do I have enough strength left to heal myself?//
Nephrite put his hand on Mamoru's shoulder; the light touch surprised him.
"You probably wiped yourself healing Kunzite, and destroying the clone. The least we can do is contribute a little," Nephrite explained. Zoisite followed suit on Mamoru's other shoulder, and Jadeite just continued to hold him up. The glow quickly became stronger, and Mamoru's smaller cuts patched themselves within seconds.
Kunzite reached out his hand to help, but Mamoru shook his head and feebly held out his own to stop it.
"You're still healing yourself, Kunzite," he said. "Just take it easy."
Kunzite was about to protest, but stopped himself. He was having enough difficulty with tasks like standing without giving up more of his energy to heal someone. Still, he watched Mamoru closely, ready to help if needed.
Gradually, as the glowing took effect on his more serious injuries, Mamoru's breathing became easier. When he was fairly certain that his lung was not going to collapse and that he was not going to bleed to death, he sat up straighter, allowing the glow to fade. "Thanks, guys. I think I'll be alright now."
"We're not letting you go anywhere yet, Prince," said Zoisite, giving Mamoru a gentle hug.
"At least not until we've taken you to the bar," Nephrite ammended.
"And how long has it been since you talked about booze?" Kunzite asked, nudging Nephrite lightly on the shoulder.
"Hey, that's not all I talk about! Sometimes I talk about coeds."
This earned him a half-hearted groan from everyone present.
"What?" Nephrite asked, feigning innocence. "I didn't say 'I talk about naked coeds,' did I?"
Jadeite smirked. "But you were thinking it."
"Hey, there's no harm in that!"
"You thinking is a very dangerous thing," Zoisite said dryly, earning a swat on the arm.
Mamoru watched Kunzite warily, feeling very much like a naughty schoolboy who was sitting outside the principal's office, awaiting punishment. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"
Kunzite glanced up at him and sighed. "How can I not be?"
"Would it help if I said I was an idiot?" he tried lamely.
Kunzite sighed again. "You're not an idiot, Mamoru. You just let your love for the princess get in the way of clear, levelheaded thinking. That girl's got you wrapped around all ten fingers, and it isn't as though I don't respect that. But you HAVE to put things in perspective from time to time."
He smiled a little. "Can you promise me that, at least? I know I can't watch you every second, much as I'd like to, so this will have to do."
Mamoru smirked half-heartedly. "Only if you promise not to jump in front of me every time I'm about to be gored by a Silence Glaive."
Kunzite snickered. "I dunno, at the rate you're going, you're going to need a human shield every ten minutes." Mamoru gave him a punch on the arm for the remark. Though it was not much harder than a feeble swat, Kunzite still clutched his arm in mock pain. "Ow! Hey, have a little sympathy for the injured here."
"We should start heading back," Nephrite said, glancing up at the pitch-black sky. "It's getting pretty late."
Zoisite nodded. "We'd better teleport these two back to Malachi's room. We can't expect them to walk in their condition."
"Hey, unlike some people, I didn't have any organs punctured by stillettos!" Kunzite rose to his feet. "See, there's nothing wrong with--"
Unfortunately, his valiant effort at proving his friends wrong was shattered when, not three seconds later, he fell face-first into the sand.
Mamoru gave him a worried look as he sat up, but he spat out sand good-naturedly. "Okay, fine, we teleport."
"Stubborn idiot." Nephrite got to his feet, offering his friend a hand. Kunzite accepted it gratefully, getting to his feet with much more caution the second time around.
"Wait a minute," Mamoru said, getting his own lift from Jadeite. "How'd you know about the stiletto?"
"Yes, Kunzite. Want to explain that one?" Zoisite said, smiling prettily.
"Uh, it's simple." Kunzite cleared his throat. "It was my ... Mam-O-Meter."
There was silence for a moment.
"That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard, but you know, I'm not in the mood to argue with you about it," Mamoru sighed, a long-suffering smile on his face.
"Yes, Kunzite, I'm sure you can explain the details when we aren't standing around in a public place in the middle of the night wearing flashy white uniforms with capes," Zoisite said with a snicker as he moved to the other side of Mamoru and put his arm around him, helping to hold him up.
Kunzite coughed sheepishly. "Yeah, okay. See you guys at home."
Suddenly the playground faded from Mamoru's vision, and the familiar cold wind that always seems to accompany teleportation rushed across his face. It ended just as abruptly as it began, and he soon found himself blinking in the soft light of Malachi's bedroom--although not precisely in the place he would have expected.
"Jadeite!" Zoisite shouted, reaching behind Mamoru to punch the blonde in the shoulder. "You did that on purpose!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Zoisite," he said innocently, though his amusement was still evident on his face.
"Only you would think to pull something like this," Zoisite huffed, beckoning at the desk at his feet, for indeed they had been teleported into Malachi's bedroom, and wound up standing on top of his desk.
"Oh, come on. At least we didn't end up in the toilet." Jadeite used the nearby chair to climb off the table. Zoisite and Nephrite simply jumped from the height, but Mamoru and Kunzite required a little more assistance.
Nephrite chuckled. "That would have been terribly hard to explain to the drunken pledges spending their evening with our porcelain lady."
"They'd probably assume it was a booze-induced hallucination and never know the difference. I know I've seen some interesting stuff..." Jadeite shuddered. "The green kittens still haunt me."
With some help from Nephrite, Kunzite began to move towards the couch. "Hold on Kunzite," Mamoru said, stopping him. "I'm not taking your bed from you. I'll sleep on the couch."
Kunzite gave him a weary smile. "I'm not going to argue with you, Prince. You're sleeping in the bed, and that's final."
"No I'm not. Listen, it's your bed and you're injured--"
"And so are you. Besides, this is my bedroom and I'll sleep wherever the hell I want."
"If it's that much of an issue, why don't you share the bed?" chirped Jadeite.
There was a long pause, and everyone turned to stare at the blonde. "Just a thought?"
"You know, Jed, I think we ought to leave before you get hurt." Nephrite's uniform faded away into his casual clothes, leaving normal ol' Neff in his place. "Not that I'm particularly concerned; you've got a head like a big hollow ... uh, something."
"Neff, your wit astounds me." Zory rolled his eyes, pushing both men out of the room gently. "Come on, let's go get drunk or whatever other manly things we're expected to do now."
"You're about as manly as eyeliner, ZorOW!" Jed rubbed his heel. "You fight like a girl, too."
"Considering the girls we've encountered lately, I'll take that as a compliment." The door to Malachi's room closed, leaving both men alone again.
"Sadly, I think I've missed this," Mamoru said, idly rubbing at his chest. There was still a dull ache from having sharp boots come in contact with squishy internal bits.
Sighing, he sank down onto the bed.
"Gave up on arguing with me?" Malachi asked, unfolding an extra blanket for himself.
"No, but I don't think I can make it across the room to the couch."
He snickered as he crossed the room to switch the light off. "I suppose I should be thankful for being saved from your wrath."
"Hey, I could wrestle you off that couch if I wanted to. When I'm not recovering from being beaten up by biker girls, that is."
Both men fell into silence as they crawled into their respective beds and lay in the darkness, gazing up at the ceiling as the events of their very long day rolled through their minds.
"Okay, I have to know," Mamoru said after a moment. "What the heck is your Mam-O-Meter?"
Malachi sighed. "It's like...I'm not sure, really. I could feel that you were upset at first, but I thought you were still in the room. And then suddenly, I was pouring myself a cup of coffee, and instead of seeing Zory reading the newspaper, I saw a heel coming down on your chest and blood spraying everywhere. Which, I might add, did not help my appetite any."
"Gee, I'm terribly sorry for that," Mamoru snapped.
"I didn't mean--"
The black-haired prince thumped the bed out of frustration. "I'm sorry, that was childish of me. It's been a long day."
"Tell me about it."
"So do you always know when something's wrong with me?"
Malachi sighed again. "It's not really as straightforward as that. Usually it's just some abstract feeling that I can't explain, like suddenly feeling sad for no reason. But sometimes when you're badly hurt or seriously distressed... I dunno, sometimes I get a vision of what's happening to you, or I start having sharp pains wherever you're hurt. I don't know how it happens, none of the others seem to be able to sense things about you the way I do, and I haven't been able to turn it on and off at will. But I've always been able to do it, even when I was in that stone."
"No one except Usako has ever been able to understand me like that."
"I guess I'm just special," Malachi chuckled. "Not that I'm particularly complaining, mind you. Being in league with the princess is definitely a compliment."
"Yeah, if she didn't hate me."
"Oh, don't start with that, Prince. You have no idea that, for a fact, she hates you."
Mamoru snorted. "Oh, so when she says she was wrong to trust me all this time, that's not a big fucking clue?"
"If I'm of correct understanding, she gets jealous when you happen to be looking in the vicinity of someone who might have boobs. So no, that's NOT a big fucking clue."
"Most of the time, they don't whisper sexually-charged phrases in my phone!"
"Please don't get angry, Prince. All I'm saying is that she tends to overreact sometimes, as do you. Not to mention that from her end of the phone, things must have looked pretty bad, what with all the misunderstandings. But that's just what they are--misunderstandings. If the Princess is anything like I remember, then when she learns the truth about what's been happening, she'll not only forgive you, but she'll feel horrible about what she said and dote on you for weeks."
"As much as I want that to be true, I'm not so sure I deserve it."
"Prince," Malachi rolled onto his side and leaned his head in his hand, peering at Mamoru through the darkness, "why are you so hard on yourself? Yes, your Usako is the Princess of the Moon, the all-powerful holder of the greatest crystal in the universe. But here's a newsflash--you're the freaking Prince of the Earth. You're not half as expendible as you'd like to think you are, my friend. I know you've got this thing with thinking that the only reason anyone puts up with you is because of all that destiny crap, but I'll have you know that there are people in this house who would tell you otherwise."
"I know. I know you guys care about me." Mamoru sighed. "But you know what it feels like to be without memories, Malachi. To have no idea who you are, why you're where you are, and what you're doing with your life. That's a lot for a six-year-old to handle on their own. At least you had the other Shitennou with you; for eleven years of my life, the only person I could depend on was myself. When you're that young, it's hardly an exciting prospect, especially when you're not even sure your name is really Chiba Mamoru."
He paused. "I just...got fed up with myself, after awhile. Why did I survive that crash, when my parents died? What was my purpose for being here? At the time, I had no idea about the Silver Millenium, Sailor Moon, any of that, save for a recurring dream about a mysterious princess; I didn't remember the Golden Crystal, Elysian, or you. And as time went by, I guess I just couldn't figure out what was so special about me, that I got to spend the rest of my life with textbooks for company."
"But what about Usagi? She's not a textbook; surely she's given you a little bit of self-confidence."
"You'd think, wouldn't you? But most of the time, I've got nothing to be self-confident about. The other Senshi treat me as though I'm as much of a threat as Galaxia; they're always waiting for me to mess up, so they can say, 'see, Usagi, we were right about him all along!'" Mamoru snorted. "Sometime, I get the feeling that the only reason they don't off me is because they'd rather not have the wrath of Setsuna-san on their heads when Crystal Tokyo ceases to exist."
"You're exaggerating, Prince. They can't still be treating you that way after two years of fighting side-by-side with you."
"I thought so, too, but that was before I started getting death threats from them when I moved here. I swear, they think I'm more dangerous outside of the country than when I'm in Tokyo where they can keep an eye on me."
Malachi smiled. "Yes, I'm sure there's a high-risk factor with what you could do with your cellphone."
Mamoru laughed softly, but to Malachi it sounded a little forced. "After what happened today, I think you're probably right. I guess you might say that Usako was the only good thing that's happened to me in a long time, so I get so afraid that something will make me lose her again, and I'll just go back to being some guy with no name and no past who no one really cares about. I've spent so many years with nothing, and now that she's in my life, I flinch every time I think something will happen. But even as much as I adore her being there, I can't help but think that I am still just nothing, and I've done nothing to deserve someone as wonderful as her."
"Prince, it's all well and good to think so highly of Usagi, but you can't treat her as though she's the only thing that makes your life worth living. As soon as you give that kind of power to a person, you're setting yourself for major stress when some miniscule thing comes along and rocks the boat. Not that I really need to tell you about that, today being adequately considered."
"Yes, stab knife, then twist," Mamoru muttered to himself. Yes, he was perfectly aware that he'd been stupid. Harping on it wasn't going to solve the problem any faster.
"I'm just trying to help you," Malachi said, sounding a little hurt. "I don't mean to continually shove this in your face, but Prince, sometimes you're more of a danger to yourself than these clones. Honestly, do you think there's anything about you that's worth liking, if Usagi isn't taken into consideration?"
"Um...well, there's...I'm smart?"
"I think you can do a little better than that."
"I don't know, Malachi. To tell you the truth, I've never been able to figure out why Usako--or anyone else, for that matter--ever gave me a second glance. Okay, people looked up to me in high school because I got good grades and did well in sports. Big deal; I excelled at everything I did because I had nothing better to spend my time doing. That doesn't make me special, that just means I have no life."
"You really sell yourself short, Prince. If you weren't so busy putting yourself down, maybe you'd notice that you're an exceptional person."
"You sound like a guidance counselor."
"Yeah, okay, but maybe if you'd paid them a visit as a kid, we wouldn't need to be having this conversation. Prince, you were a stranger to me two days ago. But in those first few minutes of conversation between us, I found you to be an intelligent, witty, charismatic individual, and that was only a first impression. You seem to forget, Prince, that I sought to get to know you long before I had any idea of who you really were, not because I'm an exceptionally nice person who befriends every guy who happens to collapse in front of me, but because I really did find myself liking you. And today, what with having my memories and all, I can tell you, as someone who knows you better than just about anyone, that you have a whole list of virtues that I can't even begin to cover."
There was silence for a moment, as the black-haired man let that sink in.
"You really think so?"
"Would I lie to you?"
"No, I suppose you wouldn't." A pause. "Thank you."
"No thanking necessary. Prince, with or without the princess, you're an amazing person, and I'm honored to be your guardian. Never forget that. I will always care about you, and I know I speak for the other Shitennou when I say that."
"I think thanking is plenty necessary. I'd have to be pretty damn special to earn friends like you."
"We've always thought the same thing about you."
"Gosh, Malachi, you sure know how to make a guy blush."
"Oh, please, don't start with that. I'm going to get enough teasing in here for that as it is. Feeling any better about your life situation now?"
Mamoru chuckled, a little less forced this time. "Marginally. If you mean that I don't want to lock myself in the bathroom and slit my wrists, you'd be correct. If you mean that I've suddenly come to the conclusion that I am an amazing, wonderful person and I've suddenly gained the eleven years of self-confidence I've been lacking, I'd say I've got a ways to go."
"I'll settle for you deciding that suicide isn't the answer."
"What was that about teasing?"
"...Nothing. Never mind. I didn't mention it."
They fell into a comfortable sort of silence, broken only by the occasional thump or shout of the frat boys living in the floors above them.
"Malachi?"
"Hmm?"
"I never asked you. Today, after you um... became Kunzite again, did you... well, remember everything?"
Malachi closed his eyes, not wanting to recall the events of that afternoon. "Pretty much everything, yes. We're all still sorting through everything in our minds, but it is there."
Mamoru noticed the edge that had crept into his friend's voice, and suspected he was treading into dangerous territory. "Funny, there's so many things I can't remember, even now," he said, steering the conversation away from whatever was bothering Malachi. "Here I had this whole other lifetime, but I can barely recall more than a few moments of it."
"What's in the past is better left in the past, Prince."
"Not when you grew up without a past, it isn't. There's these times when something reminds me of something else, but as soon as I try to remember it, it's gone. I hate living like that, feeling like there's something I lost, but having no idea how to find it again." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "What kinds of things do you remember about the Silver Millenium?" He was sure to emphasize the last two words, carefully skipping over certain other topics.
"Must you insist on having these conversations late at night, Prince?"
"Please, Malachi? Just tell me one good memory, and I promise I'll shut up and let you sleep."
The white-haired man sat there for a moment, considering. "It was your fifteenth birthday, if I'm not mistaken. The morning festivities had ended, and we'd all snuck away from the palace guards to be off in the gardens - much to my chagrin, I'll have you know. And we must have been out there all morning, talking like the awful little teenagers we were. We must have been there all day, or at least until sunset. The other Shitennou and I had opted to give our gifts to you in private, to avoid all the stuffy nonsense of nobles 'oohing and aahing' and applauding every five damn seconds.
"Nephrite had teased Zoisite mercilessly when he'd found out that his gift was going to be a mirror, but he definitely stopped laughing after he gave it to you. It was silver, delicately carved with elaborate roses all the way around. I know, what use could you have for a mirror, but Zoisite was thinking ahead. I believe you secretly sent it to Serenity for -her- birthday not long after.
"All of us were curious about what Nephrite got you, because he had been hinting and bragging about it for the past week. He made an elaborate show of giving it to you, and I'm sure Zoisite threatened to hurt him if he didn't hurry up and let you open the damn thing. It turned out to be a first edition of a book you'd wanted. Surprised the heck out of us, Nephrite getting you something so academic, but I suspected he had overheard you telling Zoisite about it. That guy's more sneaky than he lets on sometimes.
"Jadeite... let's see, I believe I remember what he got you. It was a knife, carved all of black jade, with little gold dragons all along the blade. Though small and light, it was stronger than any metal, and even though you were reluctant to use it at first, it soon became more useful to you than your sword, and you carried it with you constantly.
"After such beautiful gifts as those, I was sure that mine wouldn't be enough. It was only a silver pocket watch, the kind with a rotating picture of the moon and sun, so that it shows the moon and stars at night time, and the sun with clouds in the day. Even though I didn't think it was nearly as nice as your other gifts, you still insisted to me that you loved it, and just to prove it you always had it with you, never leaving it behind."
Mamoru swallowed. "You remember all of that?"
"Prince, I could probably tell you what the humidity was outside on that day. I've got more memories now than six normal people combined, and even if they aren't all like that one, they're as crisp as if they happened five minutes ago."
The black-haired man really wanted to say he was envious - the best he could do with memories of the Silver Millenium just involved Serenity, and how much he'd loved her. He didn't remember that birthday, or any of the other ones. He didn't remember much of anything.
But he could not express his envy; he wouldn't have dared. Because, for every memory like that, Malachi--Kunzite--had twenty more that were awful and harrowing and would have sent any average person to a mental institution for the rest of their days. Malachi seemed to be taking it rather well, or so it seemed to Mamoru, and he didn't want to ruin that mental peace.
"Thank you for telling me about that."
"Am I allowed to sleep now, or do you have any more pressing life-long problems that need to be addressed?"
"I think we can give it a rest for tonight," Mamoru replied, smiling into the darkness. "Unless you'd like to hear about how I never got that pet turtle I wanted for Christmas when I was ten."
"Good night, Prince," Malachi sighed, rolling onto his side.
Mamoru closed his eyes, wishing some image of that day that Malachi had described would come to him, but all he saw were the backs of his eyelids. He supposed it didn't matter much anyway--even though he could never recall that wonderful day, he did have his friends back with him now, and maybe sometime they'd be able to have a day like that again. He certainly hope so.
The black-haired prince sighed contentedly. "Good night, Malachi."
------
"GOOD MORNING STANFORD UNI--"
CRASH.
Malachi's alarm clock was no match for a sleep-deprived Prince of Earth in any way, shape, or form.
"...the fuck whuzzat?" Malachi muttered fuzzily, peering out from under a blanket.
"Your alarm."
"Oh. What'd you do to it?"
"I shut it up."
"Oh. Good."
That having been said, both immediately went back to sleep.
Malachi awoke a few hours later, grateful for the opportunity to sleep in. He really should have been in Advanced Minerological Studies right now, but given the circumstances, he was willing to give himself a day off. He rather felt he deserved one, after all.
Mamoru was still slumbering in the bed, his face partially obscured by the covers. Malachi could not help but smile a bit as he quietly rose from the couch. Softly, so as not to wake the sleeping prince, he exited the room, silently closing the door behind him.
"Morning!" Jed pronounced in an achingly chipper way, as he took a sip from his third cup of coffee for the morning.
"I'd like mornings better if they started in the afternoon," Malachi grumbled, going for the coffee pot. "Especially after yesterday."
"How's Mamoru doing?"
"Still out like a light."
"Good. He deserves it." Zory poured about eight tons of cream into his cup, passing the carton to Malachi when he was finished. "What are we going to tell our professors?"
"We've been taking care of Mamoru. It's no lie." Neff took a long swig from his own mug of liquid caffeine.
"All of us? Even he's not that inept."
"So? Our profs don't need to know."
"Neff, he's a -med- student. They'll know."
"And it's a big school. You think they'll all know him? Especially considering he's about as social as a rock?" He paused, considering. "Okay, less social than a rock?"
"Well you've got a point there, I guess."
Their conversation immediately ceased when they heard someone coming down the hallway. "Hello all," drawled a fourth year student as he entered the kitchen. "How is everyone this fine morning?"
"We're just wonderful, thank you! And how are you, Alan?" Chimed Jed. Malachi made a mental note to make him cut down on his caffeine intake, or at least put less than ten scoops of sugar in every cup.
"I'm good. Hey, I heard Malachi came out of the closet. Good for you, man."
Malachi did not answer. He was too busy choking on his coffee.
Alan failed to notice the white-haired man's reaction, and reached for the cream. "So what's this I hear about a new pledge moving in? I thought all the rooms were taken for the semester."
"Mamoru was one of the people who lost his dorm in that fire the other night," Zory said, clapping Malachi on the back. "He'll be sharing Malachi's room until one of the other rooms is free."
"Oh, cool. We're all about school spirit and community and all that stu--hey, Malachi, you okay?"
Malachi nodded feebly, coughing a couple of times. "Came out of the closet?" Oh, God, what was going to happen when they asked Mamoru about it? He'd be mortified if his Prince found out about the rumor.
"Down the wrong way," he croaked, gesturing to the cup.
"Well, I've got English 100 in five. Better jet. More power to you, Malachi! Anyone makes fun of you for it, I'll pop 'em one."
"Thanks." As Alan left the kitchen, the white-haired man proceeded to hit his head against the table repeatedly.
"Hey, no need to go and give yourself a concussion," Neff said, trying to keep from grinning.
Malachi scowled up at him. "You're right. I should give you one instead."
"Don't worry about it, Malachi," said Zory, idly stirring his coffee. "I've been dealing with rumors like that for years. With no help from certain people, I might add." He glared pointedly at Jed.
Jed innocently looked up from dumping more sugar into his mug. "You mean you're not in the middle of a passionate love affair with that male lifeguard?" His question was promptly followed by a cry of pain when Zory kicked him under the table.
"Okay, if it's not that big a deal, you can try explaining to Mamoru how 'coming out of the closet' translates into Japanese."
"Explain what about closets to me?"
Mamoru eyed Malachi curiously as he again began to hit his head on the table. "I missed something, didn't I?"
"You missed it two times, even." Zory took a sip out of his coffee mug. "We were just talking about expanding my closet. I'm running out of space."
"It doesn't help that most of it is full of evening gowns and little black OW!" Jed nearly spilled his coffee in his lap as he clutched his throbbing shin. "Stop that!"
"Stop being such an idiot, then."
"How'd you sleep, Prince?" Neff asked, offering Mamoru an empty seat.
"Alright, thanks. I didn't realize I'd slept so long."
"It probably didn't help that you smashed my alarm clock." Malachi gave him a wry smile.
Mamoru blushed sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I'll get you a new one, I promise."
"Don't worry about it, Prince." He rose to get Mamoru some coffee, giving his black hair a friendly ruffle as he passed. "I go through those things so fast, I need to buy them in bulk."
"Yeah, I understand entirely." Mamoru idly played with the small spoon that was resting in the sugar bowl. "Especially those days when I've got Introduction to Cadavers at 8 AM."
"Ready to face your profs, Mamoru, or are you going to hold off until you've recovered fully?" Neff stood, moving toward the sink to rinse out his mug.
The prince sighed. "I don't know what else I've got in store, as far as these clones go. I could go in to see my teachers, but then I'll have to explain why I'm not fit to be in class when I LOOK healthy enough."
"One of us will go. We'll tell them you're still not feeling well, apologize for you." Malachi returned to the table with a mug for Mamoru; the side said "LEAVE ME ALONE - I'M HAVING A CRISIS."
The black-haired prince blinked at the words. "Gee, that's subtle."
Malachi snickered as he sat down. "I thought it seemed appropriate."
Mamoru took a small scoop of sugar from the old earthenware bowl, and then poured in a little cream. He was already awake; he could indulge. "So who gets to face the wrath of my professors?"
"Well let's see," Zory said, glancing around the table. "Who here DOESN'T have a reputation for skipping class and telling horrible excuses for it?"
"Hey, would you prefer it if I went to class drunk?" Neff asked.
"You mean you haven't?"
"Fine. 'Would you prefer it if I went to class drunk more often?'"
"No. No, I would not."
"Sadly, I think Malachi is the only one of us qualified for the job, unless you want your reputation permanently sullied by the rest of us boozing fratboys." Jed smiled. "Not that you should be particularly worried, living with us and all. I mean, what could possibly go--"
"Stop." Zory held up a hand. "You've seen movies. Whenever anyone says 'what could possibly go wrong,' everything goes wrong."
"What's this about me living with you?" Mamoru took a sip of his coffee, and was profoundly relieved to find that it tasted much better than the sludge at the cafeteria.
"Well, we hardly thought you'd be going back to what's left of your dorm room," Neff remarked.
"Yeah, but stay here? We hadn't really discussed that--"
"We're all decided, Prince," Malachi cut in. "It's not safe for you to be living in those dorms by yourself anyway. Of course, if you don't want to live with us..."
"No, of course I do. I just don't want to be intruding; I'm already taking Malachi's bed and all."
"Now how could you possibly be intruding? We want you here. You know that."
"I--" Mamoru paused. "Oh, why the hell am I arguing with you? It's not like I can go live with that little ... Lunette, and being all alone in a dorm right now would probably not be best for my sanity or my livelihood."
"It's settled. I'll take my couch for the rest of the semester, until we can get you a room." Malachi drained the last sip of coffee from his mug, and went to pour himself some more.
"Hey, I didn't say--"
"I know! Why don't you two share a bed?" Jed waggled his eyebrows. "Everybody wins then, right?"
"You are this close to getting hit, Jed." Malachi threw him a look that left little room for argument. Jed timidly went back to drinking his coffee. "You're probably hungry, aren't you Prince? When's the last time you've eaten anything?"
Mamoru paused. When was the last time he had eaten? Yesterday he had been too busy running from clones. The day before that... well there was that awful coffee in the cafeteria, and the bottle of water Malachi gave him. Those hardly counted as food. And before that? He tried to think, but his mind was drawing a complete blank.
He caught the worried glances of his friends. "I guess I haven't exactly been keeping up on meal times," he said lamely.
"You haven't eaten anything in the last three days." It wasn't a question - Malachi knew.
"Um, if you want to put it that way, yes."
The white-haired man groaned, infinitely weary. "Mamoru, you take worse care of yourself than even these boobs."
"Hey!" Jed looked, mildly wounded, over at Malachi.
"Sorry." Though he wasn't particularly sorry about it. "Prince, you're going to eat something, even if I have to spoon-feed you."
"I bet he'd like some other spooning," Neff muttered, and was kicked under the table by Zory. Unlike his blonde friend, the brunette just smirked as he rubbed his swelling knee.
"It's not as though I've been intentionally starving myself." Mamoru wearily ran his hand through his hair. "I've been so busy fighting these clones, I've hardly had time for anything."
Malachi eyed him critically. "Okay then, what about before that?"
"Well I did have a test to study for." He put his head in his hand. "A test that I wasn't there to take."
"Are you seriously telling me that you were too involved with studying to spend an hour getting at least one decent meal?"
"Lay off him, Malachi. He's already having a hard enough time without you lecturing him about it." Zory put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "No wonder you've been fainting so much, Prince."
Jed resignedly stood up. "Alright then, time to make some breakfast."
Neff and Zory immediately followed. "You sit here and enjoy your coffee, Prince," said the blonde, his hand still on Mamoru's shoulder. "We'll have something ready for you in no time."
As if by some unseen signal, all four of the men immediately became busy. Jed fired up the stove, while Zory looked up something in a recipe book. Neff made a disturbingly fast beeline for the knives and began chopping up something or other on the cutting board. Mamoru did not have a clue what they were making, but they seemed to know what they were doing.
Malachi poured the last few drops of coffee into Mamoru's "CRISIS" mug. "I'll make another pot."
"But--You don't have to--I'm just--..." Mamoru tried to get their attention, explain that they didn't need to go all out; he could walk to the cafeteria and get an "omelette." Unfortunately, they showed no signs of stopping.
"Do we have eggs?" Zory eyed the recipe book critically.
Malachi poured coffeegrounds into the machine. "Depends. Did Jed try to make his 'famous' scramble yesterday?"
"Well, the kitchen is still here."
"Ha ha." Jed muttered, digging through the fridge. "Yes, there's eggs."
"Halleluja. Give 'em here before you drop them."
Mamoru sighed, realizing he had no chance of getting their attention now that they were so determined. At least they seemed to be enjoying themselves--when they weren't bickering, that is. //Actually,// he thought as he watched them, //they seem to have the most fun when they're teasing each other.// Everyone seemed to have a rather set idea of what their job was, with Zory carefully giving directions, Jed manning the stove, Neff chopping up everything that could possibly be chopped, and Malachi cleaning up all the messes they made. They maneuvered around each other with an efficiency born of familiarity, only getting in someone's way when they were intentionally trying to get on everyone's nerves.
"Jed, put down that spatu--" Malachi was interrupted when something in his pocket began to beep perklily to the tune of "AlegrĂa."
"...Malachi? Your ass is ringing," Neff pointed out, as the white haired man whipped a small cellphone out of his pocket and tossed it to a surprised Mamoru.
"I thought this thing was dead," he muttered, opening it warily. "Hello?"
"Mamo--"
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Chiba? Where do you think you get off having sex with other girls WHILE YOUR FIANCÉ IS ON THE DAMN PHONE?"
It should be noted that, although Mamoru tended not to be easily shaken, as soon as he heard that angry voice over his phone, he wanted to wet himself.
"You're lucky you're on the the other side of the fucking world, you asshole. Otherwise you'd already be lying in a ditch somewhere, lacking some very essential parts." Mamoru did not say anything. He had lost his voice out of sheer terror.
There was a scuffle on the other end, the muffled sound of shouting and of the phone being dropped a few times before exchanging hands. "JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU FUCKING JERK!" Rei's screaching voice was such that Mamoru had to hold the phone away from his ear, just to save his eardrums. "Where do you get the gall to lie to everyone? To lie to ME even!"
Suddenly, there were at least four voices shouting at him, seemingly all pressed up to the same reciever. Admist the unintelligible, Mamoru could hear such things as:
"Gonna beat your ass in..."
"And she was up all night worrying..."
"And then I'll take a crowbar, and..."
"She hasn't cried so much since they discontinued those Sailor Moon action figures..."
"You'll be crying for your mommy..."
"I am so going to torch you..."
As though it were on fire, Mamoru threw the phone on the table, looking just about as though he were going to pass out. Well, it didn't much matter now whether Usagi was willing to forgive him or not - he would never make it back to Japan alive.
Out of some sick sense of curiosity, Malachi picked the phone up off the table and listened. The wrath that was pouring out of Mamoru's cellphone was far too much for even him to handle, and it was quickly sent clattering onto the floor, where it rolled up against Jed's feet.
Jed prided himself on his ability to laugh in the face of any insult. This was mostly due to the fact that they were directed at him on a regular basis, making him quite experienced in the matter. When he picked the cell up off the floor, he listened with a mildly amused expression on his face, nodding occasionally as if to urge the girls to continue. After listening intently for a few minutes he chirped in perfect Japanese, "You'll do what to his what?"
There was a collective silence on the other end of the phone. "...Who the hell is this?" Rei said sharply.
"Oh, just a friend of the guy you're threatening, no one really important. But hey, here's an idea: how about you lay off a guy who's barely slept or ate in the past three days and has been running for his life?"
After the constant drone of screaming, the silence on the other end was deafening. Jed grinned, knowing full well he had their attention. "If Haruka-san's listening, you can let her know that her evil counterpart has already maimed him with the Space Sword, so she won't need to bother doing that now. She'll also be pleased to know that despite what she may think, the story Mamoru told her before was no lie." The smile on his face was positively evil. "I'm sure if you ask her about it, she might be able to clear up one or two things for you."
When no response seemed forthcoming, Jed chirped, "It's been lovely, but I think the object of your affections is about to either piss in his pants or pass out. Perhaps both. Call again some time, okay?"
Quickly, before anyone had the wherewithall to respond, Jed ended the call. "Mamoru, you have wonderful friends. That Rei-chan? What a pistol."
Mamoru whimpered feebly, looking at the cellphone placed before him as though it was going to jump up and eat his face off.
"Prince?" Malachi put down the mug of coffee warily, putting his now free hands on his friend's shoulders. "Are you okay?"
He noticed, with great concern, how much his Prince's shoulders were shaking.
"Prince?" Zory said softly, sitting down next to him.
"I... I guess I can't blame them," Mamoru croaked, his voice wavering as though he was on the verge of tears. "This was all my fault. If I hadn't... God, Malachi, what have I done?"
Malachi squeezed his shoulders sympathetically. "What are you talking about? You haven't done anything, Prince. Unless you count fighting clones as a cardinal sin."
"No, not...not that. If I had just stayed on the phone with Usagi, I could have tried to explain. But now they'll never trust me again. I basically admitted to her that I'd been cheating. The Senshi won't even let me get one foot off the airplane before they tear me to pieces. I've just confirmed all their secret thoughts for what kind of guy I am. If I want to live, I can't leave this continent."
"That's got to be an overdramatization of things, Prince." Neff raised an eyebrow. "After trying to protect you for so long, they'd just as soon really gore you with various pointy things?"
"Faster than you could say 'Space Sword Blaster,' Neff. Oh, God, I-I hoped that maybe I'd be able to fix this..."
"Of course you can still fix it, Prince." Zory put a hand on his arm. "They may not have any faith in you right now, but they've been your friends for years. Once they hear about what's really been happening, they'll understand."
"Are you kidding? Now that they're so certain I've been cheating on her, anything I try to tell them will sound like nothing but a lame excuse. It doesn't even matter whether Usako can forgive me now; whether she does or not, they'll never let me near her again." A barely audible sob escaped this throat. "Not to mention that I've betrayed the trust of eight of my friends."
"Someone's got to be levelheaded enough to see through this. Ami? Setsuna? Surely they--"
Mamoru snorted derisively. "You'd think. But Haruka and Rei are persuasive. Give them ten minutes, they'll have the Mamoru is an Evil Bastard Homepage up before you can even get your computer started."
"Prince, I hate to sound stupid--shut up, Zory--but I'd hardly call people who want nothing more than my head on a stick 'friends.'" Jed coughed. "Not that our track record is particularly spotless, I know, but we weren't swearing to protect you at the time."
"By the looks of it, I don't think they are anymore, either." Any appetite that Mamoru might have otherwise had was now gone. He felt as though someone had taken a swing at his stomach with a baseball bat, and he was pretty sure that if he had eaten anything recently, he would have thrown up by now.
Malachi moved around to Mamoru's side and knelt down by his chair. His friend still continued to shake slightly, and he had gone distressingly pale. "You don't look too good, Prince. I think you'd better lay down until breakfast is ready. The guys will bring it to you when it's ready, won't they?" He threw a glance up at the other three, who quickly nodded.
"Of course we will." Zory gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile, but Mamoru was too busy staring at the table to take much notice. "You go get some rest, Prince."
Mamoru's legs felt like lead as Malachi gently pulled him to his feet and guided him towards the bedroom. The effort made him feel faint, and by the time he collapsed onto the bed, he felt as though the room was spinning around him.
He expected Malachi to return to the kitchen to help with the food, but the white-haired man remained next to him, seated on the edge of the bed. Mamoru was rather glad to have the company. Considering how often he needed to be saved from himself lately, he was not sure whether being alone would be such a good thing right now.
Malachi sighed inwardly as he watched his Prince roll onto his side and curl into a fetal ball of misery. Things had been going good for once! Alright, so maybe Mamoru had not yet returned to full health, but the fact that he had not been attacked, seriously injured, or fainted all morning had been a really good sign. But now, just when things were starting to look up, this had to happen. Malachi had never had a reason to dislike the Sailor Senshi in the past, but at the moment he was holding them in about as high regard as he did their evil clones.
...Well, come to think of it, he did have a reason to dislike them in the past, but that was a part of his life he had just finished throwing up over and he rather wanted to think about other things for awhile.
Quietly, nearly inaudible, Mamoru sobbed into a pillow. His life had, in a matter of minutes, gone from "not too bad" to "where's the rope and the nearest ceiling beam?" He felt a hand on his back, rubbing in gentle circles, but it gave him very little comfort.
Everything he had come to know and love was slipping through his fingers. It was as though someone had reached the decision that his life was going far too good and thus smote him for this horrible crime. His two years of happiness had come to an abrupt and bitter end, and he had once again had his life reduced to a state of perpetual loneliness.
"I'm sorry, Prince." Malachi leaned in, pressing his warmth against Mamoru's back. The black-haired man obviously needed all the reassurence he could get, and everyone else in the house be damned if they thought he was doing inappropriate things.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, breathing lightly on his prince's neck. "I wish I could fix this..."
He slid an arm beneath his Prince's chest, holding him close. Through the thin fabric of his "Azabu" t-shirt, the white-haired man could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, shaken by the sharp sobs that caused his whole body to tremble. He could feel, too, the rhythmic, steady throb of his heartbeat, and beneath that, the equally steady glow of the Golden Crystal.
"I want my Usa!" Mamoru sobbed, his words muffled and rendered nearly unintelligible by the pillow that he had shoved his face into.
Malachi tried to translate what had sounded like "I wumf my umfmmf," but had no success whatsoever. He wrapped his other arm around Mamoru's waist, so in essence, anyone who walked in at that moment would have assumed they were spooning.
Silently, he damned himself for not locking his door after they came in. His only hope was that someone would come in with the breakfast and leave without asking questions.
Of course, had Malachi truly cared about this, he would have simply gotten up and locked his door. But truth be told, his Prince was far more important to him than any reputation he might have otherwise maintained, and nothing could make him let go of Mamoru now, not even the threat of someone barging in on them.
He was quite used to the culture that stated that men cannot display open shows of affection for one another without something else going on in the bedroom. But Kunzite's extended memories brought back to him a time and place when friendly hugs were more common than handshakes, and when no one would have thought twice about his rather close relationship with the Prince. And while he may not have been living in that time any more, he'd be damned if he was going to let Mamoru face this alone. He did not possess the same powers as his Prince; he could not heal his emotional wounds with the touch of his hand. But at the very least, he could be there for him.
"I'm sorry," Malachi whispered close to his ear. "There's nothing I can do to make this any better."
Mamoru sniffled quietly. "I'm just glad you guys are with me. If I had to do this alone, I...I don't think I could make it."
"We'll always be here for you, Prince. Always." The white-haired man pulled his friend toward him further, so that they were one giant mass of sheets and limbs. "Right now, it's all we can do. But you'll never be alone while we're around, I swear it. I would sooner eat Jed's omlettes than abandon you."
The prince tried to laugh, but he found that he just couldn't. His few chuckles quickly dissolved back into sobs, and he curled in on himself and around Malachi's strong arms. At that moment, it was probably the warmest, safest place in the world.
Malachi obligingly held him tighter, his face half-burrowed in the mess of black hair in front of him. He could not imagine what his Prince was going through right now. The only personal equivalent he could think of would be if the other Shitennou--no, the entire frat house--had turned their backs on him. They weren't just friends to him; they were his family, the people he had come to trust and depend upon. He knew that Mamoru, lacking a lifetime of personal relationships, had come to think of the Sailor Senshi as much more than friends or comrades. Even without taking the loss of his fiance into account, to suddenly lose all of them at once like this could be nothing short of devastating.
"Do you remember the promise that I made to you yesterday?" Malachi asked softly, his voice slipping into Japanese as though he had spoken it his entire life.
If Mamoru could have smiled at that moment, he would have. He never thought the sound of his mother tongue could be so comforting. Even the effort of comprehending the words of his second language had become strenuous to him. "Yes," he croaked feebly between sobs.
"That promise still stands. Even if the entire world abandons you, we never will."
Jed tucked the steaming tray of food - coffee, hash browns, scrambled eggs - under his arm precariously. Before he could even get his hand on the doorknob, he was touched on the shoulder by Zory.
"Leave them," the feminine blonde said quietly. He inclined his head in the direction of the door. "I doubt the prince is -really- up to eating, after that phone call. And if I know Malachi, he's probably got the prince in a very embarassing bearhug that he'd rather not have unsuspecting fratboys stumble upon."
"Well," Jed peered down at the food under his arm, "I guess -we're- having breakfast, then."
Zory sighed as he entered the kitchen. "We can bring them what's left when we're done eating. Mamoru might hopefully be up to it by then." He pulled a plate out of the cupboard and started loading it with hashbrowns. "That is, if we can prevent rampaging frat boys from demolishing it first. Soon as they smell it, you know they'll come crawling out of the woodwork."
"I'll beat 'em off with a stick if they come within a foot of the Prince's food," Neff drawled, nibbling on a piece of bacon while he read the sports section.
"Why not with a knife?" Jed asked, putting a plastic dome over Mamoru's food to keep it warm.
"You kidding? I wouldn't want to cook with them after I'd hacked those sleezy, drunken wads to pieces."
Zory looked a shade greener as he sat down, plate in one hand and cup of coffee in another. "Well, gee, thank you for that, Neff."
"Any time," Neff said, over a mouthful of bacon. It came out sounding distinctly more like "Mnf ngh."
Mamoru sniffled quietly, most of his tears spent. He did not exactly feel any better about his situation, but if he cried any longer, he would likely shrivel up from dehydration. He sighed deeply, feeling Malachi's warm breaths against his neck and the strong arms that wrapped around him like a blanket. He could not begin to express how thankful he was for his friend's presence.
"Do you think she'll miss me?" he muttered into the pillow.
"Oh, Prince, don't give up on this yet. I know it looks bad, but I've seen you and Serenity been seperated by entire legions of lunarian subjects, -and- her mother. Thousands upon thousands of people, compared to eight? I think your odds are better."
"But those thousands of people wouldn't castrate me upon sight."
"No, they tend not to do that to royalty, but you know what I mean."
"I can't ever go back to Japan. And even if I don't, they'd probably still find a way to track me down here. The others may not be able to afford it, but Haruka-san could easily buy a plane ticket." He snorted. "Actually, she'd probably pay for the whole lot of them to come here, just to execute me."
"And if that were to happen, they would have to get past us before they could lay a finger on you."
Mamoru squeezed the rough hand that rested against his chest. As much as it pained him to think of what might happen to his friends if they protected him from such an onslaught, it was somehow comforting to have someone to fight for him.
"What if I never see her again?"
"You will, Prince. Because she loves you every bit as much as you love her. Even if you really had cheated on her, she'd find it in her heart to forgive you."
"Malachi, we're the Romeo and Juliet of the modern era, and you know it."
"Yeah, but I already preempted your suicide part, didn't I? And you know the last thing the Senshi would ever do is let Usagi kill herself." Malachi buried his face into Mamoru's hair, nose rubbing against the man's scalp. "If Usagi wants to see you badly, she will find a way to do it, one way or the other. If she has to hop a plane, if she has to run away from the Senshi and change her name and dye her hair pink, she'll do it."
"You really think so?"
"You'd do it for her, wouldn't you?"
"I think it would be rather difficult to dye my hair pink."
"Yes, and lavendar is so far off." Mamoru half-heartedly elbowed him in the ribs.
Malachi chuckled and pushed himself up on his elbow, leaning over the black-haired prince. He softly brushed the backs of his knuckles across Mamoru's cheek, wiping away the tears that covered his entire face. "Your pillow's all soaked now. That can't be comfortable."
Mamoru sniffled and sat up, with some help from his friend, while Malachi rearranged the pillows so that he would not have to be laying in a puddle of his own tears. When he lay back down again, he was facing the white-haired man, who sat with his back against the headboard. He draped an arm around Mamoru, rhythmically stroking his back. Mamoru curled up with his face resting against his soft cotton shirt, the light scents of cologne and mint, strangely accented with the smell of fresh snow, filling his nostrils.
"I've missed this," the prince murmured, snuggling in closer. He hadn't remembered how good it felt to have Kunzite comforting him, but somehow it had come trickling back in the last few minutes. He felt protected here, almost as much as he did when he was holding his Usako. It was as though they were seperate from the world; nothing could touch them.
"There are so many times I wish I could have done this in the last two years," Malachi--Kunzite, rather--said quietly. "Being stuck in a rock rather eliminates the possibility of hugging."
"I know how hard it must have been for you, always watching me but never being able to do anything to help me. I loved having you there and being able to talk to you, but... it just wasn't the same."
"There were so many nights when I watched you sleeping, knowing what you were going through. And I... I thought that the only thing I truly wanted was to be able to reach out and touch your face, to be able to give you that comfort that you so often needed."
"I don't know how I could survive this whole evil clone mess without you. If I could." Mamoru sniffled quietly. "You know, you're the first person in almost ten years to see me cry."
"Well, I'd say I was honored, but considering the circumstances, you'll forgive me if I don't." Malachi touched his friend's face gently, holding the tear-stained cheek as though it were fragile. "Do you want to eat something now, or are you still too uncomfortable?"
Mamoru groaned. "They went to all that trouble to cook breakfast for me, and I had to have a PMS attack. I hate to let it go to waste, but..."
"Don't feel obligated to eat, Prince. They're probably just as happy as I am to be occupied by doing things for you; three hours from now, if you proclaimed that you wanted a stuffed pig for dinner, they'd find some way to do it, and you wouldn't even have to ask twice. That's how excited they are. Besides, it won't go to waste. You're living in a house full of college boys. No food ever lasts more than four hours in this house without being eaten."
Mamoru smiled wanly. "If I weren't such a nice person, I'd be very interested in testing that theory. I'd especially like to know how they would manage to cook the thing."
Malachi snickered. "Actually, they did it at last spring's end-of-the-year kegger. I believe they dug a pit in the beach volleyball court. Darn thing still smells like ham."
"You live in a very interesting place, Malachi. I get the feeling that staying here after living alone for the past several years will take some getting used to."
"Oh, you'll grow to like it. The guys get on your nerves sometimes, like when they 'borrow' important things, like your toothbrush, or when they keep you up half the night listening to The Pointer Sisters. But there's never a dull moment around here, and it's really rather nice having so many people around who think of you as a friend." Malachi wondered idly whether that was why Tethys had sent them to a frat house, of all places. Their friendships with the other frat boys had helped them learn how to live as normal human beings. Well, as normal as drunken college students could be.
"You know, I'm supposed to be living here now, but I don't even know the name of this place. Aren't American frat houses supposed to be named after Greek letters or something?"
"It's called Epsilon Xi."
"That sounds like cheap sci fi."
"Yeah, those Greeks were really big on Farscape and The Matrix back in their day."
"And I have to know: do you guys ever get anything academic done in here?"
The white-haired man chuckled. "Zory and I are both majoring in Geological Sciences; we take the same classes, and often study together. Neff is minoring in GeoSci, but majoring in Culinary Arts, which means he spends more time in the kitchen than the library. Jed...Well, half the time we aren't sure what he's studying. I think he's changed his major four times in half as many years. He apparently passes all the classes he takes, but I couldn't even tell you what they are."
"So he's an Italian-statistical-psychological-computer science-biochemistry-music major?"
"Yeah, something like that. You'll have to ask him; he gives a different answer every time."
As if right on cue, the door opened and Jed poked his head inside. "Hey, sorry if I'm disturbing you guys. I was just wondering whether the Prince is up to eating." He pointedly ignored the fact that the two looked rather like they were snuggling. Normally it would be at the butt of all his jokes for at least a week, but it did not seem appropriate to be making fun of Mamoru at a time like this.
Malachi ran his fingers through the black locks of Mamoru's hair. "I know you're not hungry, but you should try to eat something, even if it's just a couple bites. I don't want you getting sick on top of everything else."
The prince sighed. "You're right. I can't afford to start passing out from vitamin deficieny now. Not when my face is going to be on every wanted poster in Juuban, and any number of other districts."
The blonde opened the door all the way with his foot, bearing the tray he had intended to deliver sooner. "Don't force yourself, Prince. Just eat what you feel like; it's not like it'll go to waste, or anything."
Malachi coughed in an attempt to smother a laugh. Mamoru just regarded Jed with something like a smile. "Thanks."
The other two followed Jed in, Neff carrying a second plate of food for Malachi. As the white-haired man helped him sit up, Mamoru dimly noted how weak he felt. His lack of decent nutrition over the past few days doubtlessly had something to do with that.
He looked down at the tray that Jed carefully set on his lap. It certainly looked good. At least, he was fairly confident that it would not poison him in any way (and when one has eaten Usagi's baking, one must take these sorts of things into account).
He took a small experimental bite of scrambled eggs. Still chewing, he gave the chefs a vague half-smile. "It's pretty good."
Zory smiled brilliantly. "It would've been better if Jed hadn't put so much pepper in."
"Excuse me, but some of us don't like our breakfast tasting like drywall," Jed remarked, crossing his arms.
Mamoru had not realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. After that, the eggs hardly stood a chance, and the hashbrowns were no better off.
Malachi tried very, very hard to surpress yet more laughter as Mamoru nearly inhaled the plate of food. He may have thought himself not terribly hungry, but his stomach obviously had other ideas. The white-haired man took his own taste of the eggs; Jed had gotten a little carried away with the pepper, but he was rather keen on spicy foods, anyway, and didn't mind much.
"We'll be in the kitchen if you need anything else." Zory exited the bedroom with a small wave, Jed not far behind him.
"So, are they cuddly in there or whaaaAAAHH!" The sound of Neff screaming was followed by the sound of a chair tipping over, and then "...ow."
"Serves you right," they could hear Zory say. "Leave those two alone. This is hardly the time for teasing."
Malachi smirked at the closed door. It wasn't often that Zory managed to inflict pain on his much larger companion. Mamoru hardly noticed the noise; he was far too busy demolishing his pile of hashbrowns. "Hey, don't forget to chew it," Malachi said teasingly.
Mamoru gave him a sheepish look as he swallowed a mouthful. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm a little more hungry than I realized."
"You apologize way too much, Prince. Just make sure you don't choke while you're inhaling it. I'm a little rusty at the Heimlich maneuver."
"We'd have to settle for Neff pounding you on the back!" Jed called. After a moment, he added, "As soon as he regains consciousness!"
Mamoru nearly did choke on his hashbrowns then. "He is kidding, right?"
"Most likely. Neff's got a thick head."
"Heard that!"
There was silence for a moment.
"You know what you need?"
Mamoru looked up briefly from his cup of coffee, expectant.
"Put down that cup first. And move that tray to the nightstand."
The prince did as he was instructed. Not seconds after he'd taken his fingers off the wooden tray, the white-haired man came vaulting across the bed, coming face to face with a wide-eyed Mamoru before they both went tumbling off the bed and onto the carpet.
"...the hell was that, Malachi?" Mamoru stuttered, staring up at the man currently occupying a position on top of him.
"Well, it was meant to be a rather large bear hug. What can I say? I'm zealous."
"I obviously don't understand the definition of 'bear hug' if it involves being tackled to the floor."
"Do I want to know what's going on in there?" Jed called from the kitchen.
"I doubt it."
"Hey, I'm just trying to make you feel better, here. When's the last time you've been hugged like that?"
"Never. Unless Usako put on an extra ninety pounds and dyed her hair white."
"Well then, you should feel special for having such a privilege."
"Being crushed by a two-hundred pound man is a privilege?"
"I weigh one-ninety, thank you very much." The white-haired man smirked down at him. "And it is a privilege."
"Okay, now you're freaking me out. Get off me, you sick bastard."
"Nah. This is way more fun."
"Are you going to get off, or do I have to make it a royal order?" Mamoru raised one eyebrow, challengingly.
"Well, being the sick bastard I am, I might just enjoy that." Malachi raised the opposite eyebrow. "Yeah, baby."
"I'm not listening!" Zory called, turning on the kitchen faucet. "La la la la la la!"
"See, this was one thing I definitely didn't miss."
"Oh, you loved it and you know it."
"No, really, I think there's a reason I blocked this part from my mind."
"Because you didn't want to admit to your secret passionate relationship with him?" Neff shouted over the sound of the running water.
"Do I have to hurt you, Malachi?"
"Depends. Would you like to?"
"That's it, you're in for it now." The black-haired prince suddenly shoved Malachi off him and, before the other man could react, wrestled him to the ground.
"Ooh, getting rough. I knew you'd come around." The humor was glittering evilly in Malachi's eyes.
"Fine, I'll play along," Mamoru grinned, his hands clamped down on his friend's wrists.
"Still not listening!" Zory bellowed.
"Oh, but we are!" Neff and Jed chimed, almost in unison.
Maybe it was the fact that eight women were probably huddled around a dark desk, planning his demise. Maybe it was because he was in the middle of the most star-crossed love affair in recent memory. Or maybe it was because he was living in a frat house with four men who were previously rocks. Whatever it was, the prince decided that he could do away with the last thread of his sanity for the time being and just do whatever the hell he felt like.
Which, at the moment, was making Malachi sorry he'd ever "hugged" him in the first place.
Malachi wrenched his wrists out of Mamoru's grip and with an emphatic growl wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and pulled him face-first onto the carpet. "Getting a little rusty, aren't you Prince? Too much studying, perhaps?"
"Don't break him, Malachi! We'd like to keep him around a while." Shouted Jed between fits of stifled laughter.
Mamoru squirmed out from under the offending arm and pushed Malachi down beneath him, forcing his full weight against the white-haired man's back to keep him pinned down. "I'm not the one who's been living in a rock for the past two years. Rolled off any tables lately, Malachi?"
"No, I'm much more partial to beds now, considering I have limbs." Malachi bucked his legs and with a quick move, flipped their positions so that he was bearing down on the smaller prince.
"And other things," he purred, almost too enthusiastically, into Mamoru's ear.
//This is getting to be way too much fun. The things I do to help him.//
"Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?" the black-haired man said, muffled by the carpet.
"Damn, am I that transparent?"
"Any more transparent, and you'd be able to replace that window I broke. I can see your less-than-pure intentions." Mamoru whipped around and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him down on the floor next to him and planting a shoulder in his chest.
"Among other things." He grinned wickedly, his nose inches from Malachi's.
"And you call me the sick bastard."
"Takes one to know one?"
"This is true." Malachi paused. "You know, I almost feel like we should be wearing only fig leaves to do this. It's only fair; traditional, you know?"
"You just want to see my ass, Malachi." Mamoru shook his head. "Transparent like a window."
"You know we're still out here, right?" Neff asked. "And listening to every word you say?"
"Do we need to sound-proof your room, Malachi?" Zory called.
"If you don't like it, you can go somewhere else."
"Not a chance in hell!" Chimed Jed. "Quick Neff, get the video camera!"
Mamoru snickered at the closed door. "They're almost as frightening as you are."
"Thank you."
"I didn't really intend that as a compliment."
"Pity, that."
Before the part-wrestling, part-nearly illicit behavior could get any further, there was a slight rumble above on the rafters.
"Did you hear that?" Mamoru asked, sounding the slightest bit anxious.
"Hear what?"
There was a most definite crunch the second time, followed by the sound of a body falling from above him.
"Guess who's back, Mister Meanypants!"
Mamoru didn't have time to guess, not that he needed to. The cold, curved silver blade up against his neck was the only clue he needed.
"Alright Malachi, enough doing indecent things to--" As the door swung open, Neff stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the horrible image of his Prince kneeling on the floor with the deadly tip of a Silence Glaive at his throat.
"I told you I'd bring you silence," the little girl said sweetly, her braided pigtails bobbing as she tilted her head to the side.
"This time," she continued softly, brushing the blade ever-so-gently against his skin, "we'll do it nice and quick, alright Mister?"
"Don't even think about it," Neff growled. He began to advance on the little girl, but when she giggled airily, he paused.
Slowly, with the precision of a doctor, she pulled the blade along Mamoru's throat. The line of blood was as thin as a papercut, but much more deadly.
"You take one more step, mister, and I'm gonna cut his head off." Harmony grinned down at Malachi, who'd gone paler than a ghost under his prince's weight. "And what a mess that would be."
"Prince!" Zory gasped, staring at Mamoru over Neff's shoulder. He and Jed looked just as desperate as Neff to rush to his rescue.
Mamoru glared up at Harmony, hardly daring to breathe for fear of accidently slicing his throat open. He came to a conclusion then: he hated this little girl. He hated the fact that she had nearly killed Malachi. He hated the fact that she wanted his head on a stick. But more than that, he hated the fact that she had interrupted one of the only moments of "bonding time" that he had had with his friend in his entire life, and that to him was far more important than any overdeveloped sense of masochism that he may have had. To him it was no longer a matter of self-preservation. He wanted her dead.
------
Some notes to the reader:
If you're curious about the logic behind the Shitennou's attacks, the idea came from Buddhist mythology. Each direction on the compass is guarded by one of the mythological Shitennou, as well as a celestial creature known as the Ssu Ling. These creatures are the Black Tortoise of the North, the Red Bird of the South, the Blue Dragon of the East, and the White Tiger of the West.
Also, where does everyone get the idea that the Senshi are going to fly over to America? We're just going to pull a Deus ex Machina, and nine high school girls, most of whom do not have the funds nor the wherewithall to fly across the Pacific, are going to appear? Likewise, five boys are going to abandon their college educations, which we can assure you is not looked highly upon by the staff, so the Shitennou can meet up with their TWOO WUVS and live HAPPILY EVER AFTER in Tokyo?
Just because the Shitennou are in a story does NOT mean they automatically hook up the Senshi. That is one of the purposes of this story. The Shitennou are people, not just pairing objects. Aside from phone conversations, and the occasional scene IN JAPAN, the Senshi are not making any appearences. Those of you dying for Senshi/Shitennou romance are reading the wrong story, and we suggest you seek out others if that's aboslutely necessary for your enjoyment.
We realize we've probably pissed off half the people who read this fic, but these things have to be said. All flames can, again, be directed to The White House, District of Columbia, United States.
~Spirit-hime and AngelAnne
