This is my rewrite of the Sailor Moon first season, told almost exclusively from Mamoru's POV (third person, limited).

We all know that Usa and Mamoru had crushes on each other in the first arc of the manga, but it didn't really go anywhere until after the arc ended.

Let's consider an AU where they admitted those feelings sooner and actually acted upon them. Considering Luna's and, presumably, the other senshi's lack of trust for Tuxedo Kamen (the manga was a bit wishy-washy in this regard - we'll fix that), what challenges would Usagi and Mamoru have to overcome? What would their relationship look like in the face of these challenges? How would it change their reactions to certain key events?

These are all the things I wanted to explore, while also putting my own spin on such a well-known story.

I hope you'll join me on this adventure!

Our story is set in Manga Canon with some borrowing from the anime (totally stole the 'Mamoru and Motoki are best buds' thing but aged Motoki down because that makes more sense to me than aging Mamoru up)

Chapter 1: Denial
Summary: Mamoru meets a girl with weird hair and very powerful emotions

o0o

My UsaMamo Week 2021 Day 1 contribution "Oh, Is He Your Brother?" was written with this universe in mind as I was already working on this story when I decided to join UsaMamo Week at the very last minute. However, the events of that story are not referenced at all within this one but could have occurred. If you haven't already checked out "Oh, Is He Your Brother?" and would like to do so (it is uploaded here) then I recommend reading this chapter first, then reading that story. Again, you don't have to, but the other story would fit between somewhere between this chapter and the next one.

Quick Summary: Usagi gets caught in the middle of a high school girl confessing to Mamoru while the two are hanging out at the Crown's counter
Takes place pre-Usa/Mamo dating
Theme: Frenemies
Prompt: Oh, is he your brother?

o0o

AO3 is my primary site for posting FF so you can also find me there under the same name.
I'm also on Tumblr - same name, minus the 9

Denial

Getting hit in the face with a ball of paper was not on his to-do list that afternoon.

While standing on the sidewalk in front of the Osa-P jewelry store, a girl, whose long blonde hair was pulled up into twin buns on either side of her head, each with a long pigtail streaming down her back to below her waist, carelessly tossed the paper she just noisily crumpled into a ball behind her, hitting him square in the face. It didn't hurt, but it annoyed the hell out of him - who just throws something behind them without looking?

"Hey! Miss Lump-Head! Are you trying to put lumps on my head too?"

She was immediately offended, shrieking about having buns in her hair, not lumps, but as he began not so carefully unfurling the offending paper she faltered, and her anger gave way to embarrassment and panic. Her emotions grabbed at and pulled on him as if intending to yank the paper out of his hands themselves.

A large 30%, written in bold red ink and twice underlined for emphasis, sat at the top of her English test.

Ah.

That explained it.

He took off his sunglasses to better see the girl who had apparently decided he was a trash can. She was flushed from her embarrassment and silently glaring up at him, her very blue eyes shooting figurative daggers.

Her expression made the corner of his mouth pull up just a little, and he held out her test to her. "Study harder, Odango Atama."

Her embarrassment and rage exploded with the new nickname, and with a very shrill "mind your own business!" she snatched the paper out of his hand.

It was the barest of touches, and yet, in that brief moment their fingers brushed, his psychometry flared with blinding, overwhelming intensity.

Since he was a child, he'd been blessed (or cursed, depending on his day) with the gift of extrasensory perception, specifically, the ability to see and feel the emotions of the people around him. Even objects spoke to him, whispering their history and their secrets to his fingertips. As a child, this ability confused and frightened him, and it wasn't until he was older that he learned this was a form of psychometry, a phenomenon he would not believe to be real if he wasn't living it every single day.

Over the years he managed to gain some semblance of control over this ability, learning how to adjust the intensity of the invading feelings as needed in order to function in any given situation. The act was not unlike how one would adjust the frequency on an old radio for signal clarity.

But this method had its drawbacks. The more he tuned down the emotions around him the less he himself felt, and the less he himself emoted. Can't have it one way without the other.

Touch amplified his ability like a powerful antenna, so he went out of his way to avoid giving and receiving unwanted touches. He didn't care if he was judged as arrogant, uninterested, uncaring, or cold, because life was simply easier this way.

At this point in his life, it was rare for another person's emotions to break through his carefully constructed walls and defenses, but it did happen.

But never had it happened quite like this.

This girl's emotions overwhelmed and eclipsed all of his senses until everything else faded away, leaving only her.

She opened to him like a book that couldn't wait to be read.
And he felt everything.

He already knew she was embarrassed and angry.
But she was also attracted to him.
And confused. About what? He wasn't a mind reader so he had no idea.

He saw the opening of arms, beckoning and welcoming.

A glimpse of family.
So many friends.

This girl was well loved.
And has a lot of love to give in return.

Love.

Now that's a foreign emotion.

He tried to explore, to read further, but the vision was gone as quick as it came, and he noted with disappointment that his senses had returned to normal and could no longer feel her.

And that she was gone.

He found her further down the sidewalk, muttering loudly to herself about the jerk in the tuxedo. He looked down at himself, then shrugged. Maybe it was strange to wear a tuxedo in the middle of the day, but he had very important business to attend to this afternoon.

Then his eyes returned to her shrinking form, and he performed an analysis.

She was short – her face fell in line with his chest.

And very loud - despite the increasing distance he could still pick out an occasional word from her ongoing rant.

But she was bright; so bright that to look at her was to look into the sun. Her brightness slipped through the cracks in his mental walls, illuminating even the darkest of the crevasses within his subconscious and singeing his demons which dwelled within them.

His eyes fell back to the hand still thrumming with her energy, but he shook his head and replaced his sunglasses on his face

Oh well.

He'd never seen her before today, so it was unlikely he'd ever see her again.

o0o

"We sure do seem to bump into each other a lot, don't we Odango Atama?"

She flushed once again in annoyance at the nickname he'd given her and looked away with a pout as he helped her up off the sidewalk.

In these last couple of weeks, she's been literally running into him with increasing frequency, making their strange encounters the most consistent interaction he had with another person outside of school. And with every run-in, he noted with renewed disappointment that each touch since the very first was annoyingly normal, providing amplified access to her emotions in the moment but lacking the revealing insight into her life.

The nickname inspired by her unusual hair style was a necessity because he still didn't know her name, even after all this time. She never offered it, and he couldn't bring himself to ask.

But he loved that she hated it.

Her anger flushed her face, pulled her mouth into an adorable pout, and made her come alive.

Rationally, he knew this was not the proper way to behave, but as long as it kept her attention on him, he would keep riling her up at every opportunity.

Because this girl was slowly endearing herself to him and had already become one of his favorite parts of the day. Her lively aura and expressive demeanor, so different from the strict, dull environment of the orphanage where he was raised or the stuffy competitiveness of his school, was a sunny respite from the oppressive dark clouds that covered his everyday life.

For the first time since these encounters started, she stopped him before he could walk away, but when his curious gaze met her blue eyes, her sudden nervousness made her hesitate. She looked away just as her fingers began playing with her skirt.

"Your... um... uniform... Are you a junior high school student like me?"

The smirk pulled up onto his face before he could stop it. "Actually, I am a full-fledged high school student!" He boasted, flashing his school ID as proof.

As she carefully read the proffered ID aloud, her curiosity morphed into mildly annoyed resignation: "Chiba Mamoru, Moto-Azabu Private High School."

His school is one of the most elite high schools in the country.

She crossed her arms with a huff. "Well, Chiba Mamoru, my name is ACTUALLY Tsukino Usagi, not 'Odango Atama.'" She made a face at the nickname. "Since you managed to get into such a great school, I expect you to have no trouble remembering it."

He laughed; a genuine, deep, unrestrained, laugh.
She had him there.

Usagi's face lit up with her smile, and she held out one slender hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Mamoru-kun!"

Mamoru regarded her with a slight tilt of his head, his features projecting his amusement. "That's a little familiar towards someone older than you whom you just met, don't you think?"

But Usagi just laughed it away with a dismissive wave. "Of course not, Mamoru-kun! We're practically friends after all this time so we're way past that kind of formality, don't you think?"

The hand was extended again with renewed gusto, pulling a throaty chuckle from deep in his throat.

"Oh, of course, Usa. My mistake."

Such an informal use of her name was intended to be a one-time thing, a friendly retaliation of sorts for the familiar use of his name, but the delicate blush blooming on her face, and the softening of her eyes, made his heart do strange things in his chest.

OK.

'Usa' it is.

Usagi's hand was soft and warm in his, her joy and amusement a pleasant shock against his palm. "So," he teased, "will you be running into me again tomorrow?"

Her boisterous laugh echoed in his ears the rest of the afternoon.

o0o

She began making an effort to join him on his morning walks to school, pulling his mind from his books or his thoughts with a loud "Mamoru-kuuuuuun!"

And he quickly found himself not caring that her loud greeting made people stare, because stopping to wait for her was always rewarded with an out of breath "good morning, Mamoru-kun!" and an absolutely blinding smile.

She'd fall in step beside him, covering a yawn with the back of her hand while complaining about the early hour; her hair sometimes a little out of place, or a slice of toast held in the other.

She was not a morning person, she once told him, but he is her friend, and friends walk to school together. "We're going the same way anyway, right?"

Yes, but their schools were in different parts of the city so their paths only overlapped a little. Why was she making such an effort for what was really a fairly short walk?

He initially questioned if it was her attraction to him that kept bringing her back every morning, but there was no discernible agenda, no unwanted physical touches, no suggestive smiles. In Mamoru's experience, the girls who only spent time with him in order to work up the bravery to ask him out made their intentions quite clear from the very beginning through their actions and their emotions.

But not Usagi. She was a walking bundle of sunshine, her warm, inviting smiles asking nothing from him but his time and attention when they were together, which, for Usagi, he was surprisingly happy to give.

And so, it was him who eventually suggested a designated meeting place to make it easier on her to meet up in the mornings.

Usagi beamed up at him with the suggestion before joking she should give him her cell number so he could text her in the mornings to ensure she wasn't late.

But because he is an idiot he simply replied, "I don't own a cell phone."

Usagi stopped short. "You don't? Why not?"

"Because landlines still exist?" He shrugged. "I already have a perfectly good phone at home. Besides, being connected to people all the time sounds exhausting."

"Mamoru-kun!" Usagi stamped her foot in exasperation. "You need to have a cell phone! What if your family or friends need to reach you when you aren't home?"

His grip on his satchel became white-knuckled. "Hasn't been an issue yet," he responded curtly.

She didn't appear to notice his change in tone. "Well, I'm giving you my number anyway. You know, for emergencies."

A pen was unceremoniously ripped from her own satchel, but before he could realize she hadn't also grabbed something on which to write, Usagi was in his personal space holding his hand palm side down.

The gall of this girl, to write her number on the back of his hand instead of simply asking him for paper. But the scratches of the pen as she wrote, along with the press of her fingers into his hand, sent warm tingles shooting up his arm.

He decided to let it be.

"There."

She stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Her number was sloppily written and signed with a small bunny face.

That strange feeling arose in his chest as he stared down at her number, and he had to resist the urge to press his hand against it. "Uh, thanks..."

Her face lit up as she responded with a sing-song lilt. "You're welcome!"

It didn't dawn on him until later that he hadn't given her his number in return.

o0o

Usagi did the lion's share of the talking, speaking in a fast and excited manner, complete with gesturing hands and varying levels of volume, as she shared everything about herself: her family, her friends, her love of Crown Game Center and all things food. Mamoru was content to listen, basking in her warm brightness and enjoying the press of her aura and the emotions it conveyed: her joy and optimism, her enthusiasm and overall zest for life.

It was so different from his own dark, self-deprecating, introverted thoughts and feelings.

He came to yearn for it, so drawn to her as a moth to a flame, wishing she would grab his hand again, or his arm, anything, just so he could better read and experience emotions warmer and more inviting than his and that of his demons.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like, to actually experience life as she did, so open and carefree.

o0o

When she expressed her dislike of school, he couldn't help but laugh. School was probably the one area he had her beat.

"And you already know how much I love English," she told him sarcastically, an embarrassed flush gracing her features. "I'm not much better with math." Her face became contemplative as she placed her index finger to her chin. "Actually, I might be worse at math..."

"Really?" The familiar smirk pulled up on his face and he couldn't help his teasing tone. "And here I was thinking you couldn't possibly be much worse at math than you are at English."

"Shut up," she grumbled before sticking her tongue out at him. "What do you know?"

"More than you about Math and English, apparently," he drawled, fighting a genuine smile from her childish yet totally adorable gesture, "I actually enjoy both subjects and am quite good at them."

Usagi responded with an overly dramatic and exaggerated sigh. "Why am I not surprised?"

He chuckled warmly, and her small smile, accentuated by a faint blush, stayed in his mind the rest of the day.

o0o

This morning Usagi was bouncing with her joy. Yesterday she finally beat her high score on the Sailor V game at Crown, and Motoki, one of the employees she explained, had treated her to a chocolate shake as a reward.

"I know Motoki, Usa, he's a friend of mine. We attend Azabu together." No sooner had Mamoru finished his statement than he was immediately startled by Usagi's abrupt squeal of delight that they FINALLY shared something in common.

She grasped the sleeve of his uniform jacket in excitement, her fingers and her joy warm through the fabric of both his uniform shirt and blazer. "Toki-onii-chan is like my big brother!" She exclaimed, and then went on to explain how her parents have been friends with Motoki's parents for years so she and her younger brother Shingo grew up with Motoki and his younger sister Unazuki.

Why didn't this come as a surprise?
That she knew his one friend so well, probably better than he did?

Maybe he should have seen it coming.

Motoki and Usagi were so similar, he realized; both incredibly expressive, their emotions plainly displayed on their face for everyone to see; both outgoing and friendly. Just like Usagi, it had been Motoki who broached friendship with Mamoru, which he did after they had found themselves involuntarily assigned together during a group project.

Motoki saw right through Mamoru's hesitance to accept, a strange smile warming Motoki's already bright face, yet projecting an underlying meaning Mamoru hadn't understood back then. But, after reflecting back on it many times over the past couple of years, Mamoru came to recognize it as some kind of understanding.

An understanding of him.

But this Mamoru did not share with Usagi.

As Mamoru harkened back to his days in middle school when he met and got to know Motoki, he caught her rapt attention, the way she clutched her satchel to herself, her blue eyes wide with wonder and anticipation.

They took turns sharing funny anecdotes about Motoki afterwards, and it wasn't long before Usagi was snorting with laughter.

"Mamoru-kun," she said through her laugh, turning those too blue eyes up to his, "tell me about your famil- oh!.. uh... um..." She cut herself off and looked away with a blush before immediately changing the subject.

A slip up.

He had been tuned into her, basking in her exuberance and her joy, but as her emotions were amplified so too were his, and she'd just gotten a glimpse of a true, conflicted emotion, something he did not show other people.

And now their fun, lighthearted moment was ruined because he'd been too slow to school his face.

He chanced a glance back to her, keeping his face forward as he slid his eyes over. Usagi continued on with her new topic as if she hadn't just asked about the one thing he simply does not talk about; as if she didn't just see the pain flash unto his face (which he was sure she most likely misconstrued as something else) before he could hide it away behind his mask.

But her smile was less sincere, and she'd moved away from his side, no doubt pulled away by the guilt and confusion lining every inch of her.

He wanted to take it away, to let her know she hadn't actually done anything wrong. But he didn't know how, and to help her understand meant telling her about a part of himself and his past he was just not willing to share.

So instead, they continued on, Usagi awkwardly talking, Mamoru only half listening, and both swathed in guilt.

The next morning she approached their meeting place quietly, hesitantly, and so late he was just about to leave without her.

It was unsettling, really, how quiet she was.
It was wrong.

"Look, Usa-"
"About yest-"

They started and stopped at the same time, and then looked away from each other. An awkward silence settled between them.

But Usagi suddenly charged right through it with a rushed "I'm sorry for whatever I said yesterday." His startled eyes found her looking down at her feet, kicking at a small pebble with the toe of her shoe. "I didn't mean to upset you," she murmured.

He was struck by her sincerity, though that she felt she needed to apologize at all tugged on his heart. "No... Usa, you didn't. It's... I..." Mamoru ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to explain it, how to make this strange awkwardness go away so they could go back to how they were.

But her small hand was suddenly on his arm, her blue, blue eyes bright through her lashes as she gazed up at him, and her smile indicated some kind of understanding Mamoru didn't even understand.

He was uncomfortable and exposed under that gaze, even as his breath caught and his heart did that funny thing in his chest.

"OK," she said through that same smile, and just like that her guilt was gone, replaced by relief. Then she curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and tugged him along with her. "Come on, Mamoru-kun! We're really late!"

He was surprised by his disappointment when she let go.

o0o

Mamoru was amazed by just how breathtakingly clumsy she was, questioning how she had gone through fourteen years of life without sustaining any serious injury.

The stumbles both up and down the curb, over cracks in the sidewalk; crashing into fixed light poles or trash cans.

If she were navigating unfamiliar terrain he might better understand her clumsiness. But she knew these streets, knew the people they saw nearly every morning by name and they her. She has lived in the same house all of her fourteen years of life and was in her second year of the same junior high, so it was reasonable to assume she had walked these sidewalks for at least a year before meeting him.

And yet, she stumbled over the same cracks and curbs. Not every day but with enough frequency he was genuinely concerned. Despite all those days she literally ran into him, he thought this was some sort of strange joke at first, or a bit that he just didn't get. But, when it kept happening, he realized, no, she actually is this clumsy.

It didn't help that she was usually so engaged in their conversations that she appeared to lose all spatial awareness, and instead of her body developing a kind of learned automation to avoid these minor obstacles, she tripped.

Multiple times.

She didn't fall every time. Sometimes flailing her arms and adjusting her feet as she lurched forward allowed her to correct her center of gravity. But the times she couldn't she crashed to the ground with a screech and a yelp.

The first several times she did this, his disbelief that this was happening again kept him acting, so he merely reacted afterwards, offering her an outstretched hand and a teasing smirk. "What are we going to do with you, Odango Atama?"

He lived for the resulting glare, a mix of annoyance at him for the nickname, embarrassment for the fall, and something else he couldn't quite place, when she placed her small hand in his to be assisted up.

Only when he realized that this wasn't going to stop any time soon did he start steadying her himself, placing a lingering hand to her shoulder or both hands to her waist if her situation was particularly precarious.

She'd become so adorably flustered each time he did so that he couldn't decide which reaction he preferred.

o0o

He'd been right about her having many friends.

She spoke of them often, of their talents and skills; of their importance in her life.

There were her friends Naru and Umino, who apparently had a crush on each other but were completely oblivious to the other's feelings. She had thrown her hands up in exasperation. "Why won't they just tell each other how they feel already?!"

Mamoru couldn't help but relate to her two clueless friends. That inability to open yourself up, to expose yourself and be vulnerable with someone, was something he knew all too well. If they were anything like him, the uncertainty of the other person's feelings was far safer than the finality of rejection, about which he suspected Usagi worried very little.

But he immediately regretted suggesting this possibility to Usagi as her shoulders sagged at the thought. "But they would be so great together."

But Usagi was a risk taker that way, keeping herself open to those around her, heart on her sleeve, never hesitating to reach out to try to form a connection with another person. Just as she had with him.

He very much envied that part of her.

Next came Ami, the blue-haired genius who always got the top scores at their school and, because of Usagi, learned she was actually really good at the Sailor V arcade game (Usagi was quite proud of that). "She hopes to be a doctor someday, just like you, Mamoru-kun!"

The Shinto priestess Rei came later, a psychic with the ability to read and divine fires, who lives in a beautiful old shrine with her grandfather and has two pet crows. "They're very cute, for crows, I mean. One of them let me pet it once. Did you know crows are super smart?"

And lastly, Makoto, the girl with super strength who was also an excellent baker and cook. "Seriously, Mamoru-kun. You haven't experienced dessert until you've tried one of Mako-chan's treats. She's amazing! And sometimes she shares her lunch with me, which is great because I forget mine all the time."

Considering the harried state in which Usagi so often arrived at their meeting place, this did not surprise him one bit.

Usagi also explained Makoto once saved her from a speeding car that Usagi had been too tired one morning to notice. It was how they met, she said.

She had blamed her inattention that particular morning on a weird dream, explaining she had been having a lot of them at the time – still was, actually, she corrected before trailing off. A far away expression dimmed her blue eyes.

With a shake of her head she came back, dismissing it as silly girlish nonsense with a laugh and a wave of her hand before changing the subject.

He didn't tell her that he had strange dreams too.

He dreamt of a young woman, whose face he could not see, who begged him night after night to find the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou, whatever that was. He ran his hand through his hair as he recalled it, thinking of the numerous late nights he spent wandering all of Tokyo scoping out and breaking into jewelry stores searching for it, and eventually fighting alongside the mysterious Sailor Senshi in order to prevent the Dark Kingdom's generals from obtaining it themselves.

o0o

It was around the time Ami joined her large circle of friends that he began to notice a periodic change in Usagi and her demeanor.

While it wasn't every day, sometimes she moved a little slower, held her shoulders slightly lower, and the shine of her brightness glowed a little dimmer.

On those days she carried so much self-doubt, speaking in broad terms about her inability to properly contribute, of holding others back; feeling like she was letting her friends down. She never elaborated further so it was difficult to properly formulate a response, and he was sure everything he said came off as unhelpful platitudes.

He couldn't imagine what would cause this crisis of confidence. All of their conversations up until then had made him certain she was the most self-assured person he'd ever met, yet another thing he had so envied about her because he carried so much doubt in himself.

The next day she would be back to her usual bright and animated self, as if the previous day's loss of confidence hadn't happened.

But Mamoru remembered.

o0o

When she began no-showing in the mornings, he initially brushed it off, assuming she was oversleeping (as she sometimes did), but the day he departed their meeting place accompanied only by his disappointment and caught her flanked by her two friends, her sleek black cat with the peculiar crescent-shaped bald spot on its forehead riding on a shoulder as the group walked and laughed together, his heart finally broke.

People came in and out of his life all the time with little to no consequence.

But Usagi was different.
And he was having trouble admitting to himself why that was.

It was several mornings later that she raced up to him, all out of sorts and out of breath. He was reminded of their earlier encounters, before they had a designated meeting place they no longer used, except there was no breathless greeting, no warm smile. Only regret.

"I'm so sorry, Mamoru-kun," she gasped, her eyes studiously fixed downwards, "but I have to walk with Ami-chan and Mako-chan in the mornings now. School stuff, you know?"

Her excuse wasn't entirely truthful, but there was genuine remorse in it, so he let it go with a murmured "I understand."

But inside he was devastated.

And when her blue eyes finally lifted to his, filled to the brim with the sadness and disappointment he could, somehow, scarcely feel, he nearly bit his tongue so he wouldn't ask why.

Why was she ending their morning walks if they meant something to her too?

This whole ordeal had been confusing and foreign, as were his feelings for her. No amount of studying and school work resolved the ache those feelings created within his chest.

That day, as he watched her go, her shoulders slumped and head down, Mamoru thought back to their discussions about her two friends and idly wondered if they ever did confess their feelings.

Her phone number remained as he left it after transferring it to a far more sensible sheet of paper later that morning: unused and burning a hole in his satchel.

o0o

The game center wasn't his scene yet here he was, sitting on the last stool at the end of the counter because Crown is where Usagi spent most of her afternoons. He'd never admit it, of course, so Mamoru aligned his days with Motoki's work schedule so he had a believable excuse.

Though Motoki nearly tripped over himself in surprise the first time Mamoru asked if he could accompany him to Crown after school, he smiled his trademark Motoki-smile and enthusiastically said yes.

Usagi had spotted him immediately, all shock and elation, bouncing up to him in that excited way she had. "Mamoru-kun! What brings you here?"

It had been days since he'd last seen that smile, and he allowed himself to revel in it before answering with his pre-planned lie. "I decided it was time to finally check out Motoki-kun's family's arcade. You speak so highly of it, after all."

She beamed at him, that smile turning impossibly bright, but the chime of Crown's doors signaled the arrival of her friends before she could respond, and after a quick "It was good to see you!" she was gone, bouncing away the same way she arrived.

Motoki approached the counter from the other side just as she left, and while Mamoru watched Usagi leave, he could feel Motoki's eyes on him. "How do you know Usagi-chan?"

Mamoru regarded him for a moment, curious if his friend suspected his true motives for coming to the arcade that afternoon. But Motoki's posture was open and relaxed, his aura reflecting nothing other than his own brand of genial curiosity.

"Oh, she's run into me a few times," he said with a shrug.

Motoki walked away laughing. "Yea, that sounds like Usagi."

o0o

The arcade was a hub, a meeting place, for teens and young adults alike. On busy afternoons, the emotions of its patrons edged towards overwhelming, what with the passion or anger towards the games; the joy, excitement, and love from meeting with friends or significant others; sadness or frustration when commiserating with them over fried food or dessert.

But Mamoru enjoyed his time despite all of that, for once preferring the energy and noise of other people instead of the silent, lonely emptiness that was his apartment or the school library.

Usagi and her friends spent most of their afternoons at Crown crammed together into a booth near the windows, laughing and talking, drinking shakes or fruit sodas, sometimes sharing food. They were often loud but not disruptive, the din of the games and other patrons drowning out most of their conversations.

Their auras stood apart from the rest, revealing the strength of their friendship but also the nondescript sense of shared duty which bound them. This type of a bind was unlike anything he'd ever sensed, but the moment his curiosity finally got the better of him and he attempted to mentally reach out for a closer look, the black-haired girl – Rei – snapped her head in his direction, her eyes immediately boring into his back. The other girls were instantly alarmed, their conversation derailing as they asked her what was wrong.

Rei's discerning violet eyes prodded and searched him as her mind reached out for answers. He broke out into a cold sweat from the effort required to keep her out, to prevent her from seeing anything he did not wish to share. It wasn't like he didn't know - Usagi had told him of her psychic abilities - but he'd been too confident; too careless.

Her eyes left as quick as they came, and a shaking hand lowered the cup of coffee he'd been sipping in an attempt to appear nonchalant. He released a relieved sigh.

Several minutes passed before he dared glance their way again, and when he did, ocean blue was immediately greeted by violet.

He was extremely careful not to use his psychometry around Rei again.

o0o

"Um...Excuse me... Mamoru-san?"

He closed his book and his eyes with a quiet, resigned sigh.

Damn.

With deliberate slowness he turned around to face the blushing brunette, taking that time to remove his reading glasses and school his face.

Here we go.

He knew the girl about to confess to him, though not well; had worked with her recently during a collaborative function between their two schools.

Her attraction to him that day had been incredibly annoying: giggling softly; constantly trying to touch his arm; suggestive smiles. By the end of the event he had to practically peel her off him. She was intelligent, had great attention to detail and, despite everything, was a very productive member of the team, but he found her exhausting and her aura too clingy.

And Motoki's teasing smirk had done nothing to ease his foul mood.

Her confession was directed to her fidgeting hands, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink as she confessed how honored she was to be assigned to his group that day; just how much she enjoyed working with him; how awed she was by his brilliance.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the last one. He was so often just a handsome face or a brilliant mind to these girls.

But it was her insistence that he must like her too that had him stymied, so much so that he scarcely heard the dreaded "Will you go out with me?"

He always went out of his way to avoid this very thing.

But she was so certain of it - that certainty was felt against his cheek like a caress, a beckoning.

Why?

His mind quickly sorted through every encounter with this girl, every exchange.
And when he found it, his heart dropped into his stomach like lead.

This girl had broken the comfortable working silence with a story completely unrelated to the task at hand, and while everyone else politely half listened, interjecting here or there as appropriate, Mamoru's uninterested mind began to wander, and when it inevitably stumbled upon Usagi, it lingered.

Usagi would hate this project, he remembered thinking to himself. Too much math and not nearly enough eating.

In fact, they had worked through lunch to ensure there would be enough time to not just finish their work, but to then meticulously review it, which Mamoru knew she would have despised. Usagi was a once-and-done kind of girl when it came to anything schoolwork related, if she bothered with it at all.

And as he pictured her indignation and the pout which would no doubt grace her features at the very idea of skipping an opportunity to eat in favor of schoolwork, he chuckled to himself and smiled, a genuinely warm smile despite himself, despite his frustration at his work partner and her clingy attraction; her inability to keep her hands to herself.

But this girl did not know that his laugh, and this smile, was not for her. How could she?

She thought…

Damn it.

The needling prick of her nervous anxiety sharply returned his mind to the present and served as a harsh reminder that she was still awaiting his answer. Her friends held themselves back, huddling together in a show of support and hope.

Mamoru took a deep breath and her eyes and smile brightened, only to fall the moment he started to speak.

She did not take his rejection well.

And when her anxious hope shifted to embarrassed anger, Mamoru braced himself for the hurt about to be hurled his way.

She did not disappoint.

"I didn't want to think the rumors were true," she began coolly. "Honestly, I think I convinced myself that those rumors had to have been made up by girls who didn't really know you. They describe you as someone who is cold and unfeeling; as someone who would sooner break a heart than accept one.

"But I realize now that I misunderstood the rumors. It's not that you aren't capable of feeling, but that you use it to instill false hope. How many other girls have you reeled in with your handsome face and warm smile? Do you take some kind of perverse pleasure in leading girls on so you can later break their hearts?"

She didn't give him a chance to answer, not that he would have. Mamoru maintained his impassive expression as she continued.

"You must, considering the sheer number. You are cruel, Chiba Mamoru," she seethed, "to lead girls on the way you do. I was a fool to think you liked me; I understand that now. But now I also understand that you are incapable of loving anyone other than yourself. If you don't change your ways, 'yourself' is all you'll have to love, if you're even capable of it."

She moved to turn around but stopped halfway and leveled him with one last glare. "But maybe that's what you prefer."

And then she was gone, her head held high as she walked through her group of stunned friends, all of whom had to sprint to catch up when she kept going.

He watched her go through that same impassive expression.

He knew the rumors of which she spoke.
He knew them all too well.

He was Chiba Mamoru, Breaker of Hearts.

'An unfair title' he'd argue if anyone bothered to ask him.

He didn't owe any of these girls anything; wasn't responsible for managing their feelings.
And yet, all the blame for their broken hearts and hurt feelings was placed squarely on his shoulders.

Incapable of loving anyone but himself?

He snorted.

He wished he was capable of loving himself.

But her words still pricked the hidden reaches of his heart, a part of himself where he dared not dwell.

Because he was afraid to learn she was right.

What if he wasn't capable of love?
At least, what if he was incapable of loving someone the way they needed? Or deserved?

He was used to quiet solitude.
It was familiar.
It was safe.

But is that what he wanted?

He took a deep, resigned sigh before shaking his head and rolling out his shoulders. He wasn't sure solitude was what he wanted for his life, but it was certainly what he needed right now.

But when he turned back around to resume his walk home, his book tucked away under his arm along with his satchel, he nearly crashed into a very distracted and very irate Tsukino Usagi.

Her aura flickered about her like the flames of an inferno, his skin burning where the edges danced and licked, and he took a wary step back.

This was different from the offended angry outburst which marked their first meeting, or her frustration when he chose to call her 'Odango Atama' instead of her given name.

No.

Usagi was feeling pure, unadulterated rage.

Dread began unfurling in his chest.

This anger could only be directed at him, right?
Because he broke that girl's heart?

And just like that, his demons were on the offensive, fomenting self-doubt and engaging in a relentless barrage of verbal abuse.

'Say goodbye to Usagi,' they whispered. 'Now that she knows the truth about you, there is absolutely no chance she'd ever want you. No one wants you; they only want what they think you can offer them. But she now knows that it's all a facade, and she'll leave you, just as everyone leaves you. Do not forget your place.'

"She's wrong, you know."

Her words cut through the haze of his mind like a ray of sunlight, and his demons backed off to avoid it, allowing him a temporary reprieve. But then her hand squeezed his forearm like a vise, and her conviction burned them away.

There would be more - there were always more - but, for now, he was free.

"Mamoru-kun." Her eyes were hard, harder than he'd ever seen them - than he thought possible from her - but they were adamant, brooking no room for argument. "She's wrong."

Mamoru failed to swallow down the lump in his throat so could only respond with a staggering nod.

She was called away by one of her other friends, a girl with a blue hair ribbon tied at the crown of her short red hair and whose hand was held by a boy with spiky brown hair and probably the thickest glasses Mamoru had ever seen.

His eyes followed Usagi as she walked to join them, not caring he was obviously staring, and he continued to watch her until she was out of sight.

o0o

It wasn't until later, after he locked himself away within the quiet comfort of his apartment, that he realized those teens were the Naru and Umino of her old stories, the two hapless friends who had exasperated Usagi with their inability to confess their feelings.

While Naru had called out to Usagi with a wide smile and steady wave of her arm, Umino watched Naru like a love-struck fool who simply couldn't believe his luck. They exuded the kind of naïve and optimistic infatuation that could only be found in young teenagers.

He frowned at the ache suddenly flaring in his chest.

When he brushed his fingers against his forearm, her words rang in his ear as if she were standing right beside him to whisper them there herself. 'She's wrong, you know.'

o0o

He wanted that too.

For the first time in his life, he not only wanted it, he wanted it desperately.

That thought was as liberating as it was terrifying. Not once had he ever reciprocated the feelings of any of the girls who confessed to him. Not only was he not interested, he was afraid; afraid of opening himself up to someone and being vulnerable with them, not just physically but emotionally; afraid that he wasn't capable of loving another person and being loved in return.

But then Usagi hit him in the face, literally with a failed test and figuratively with her emotions; emotions so unapologetically strong they broke through his carefully crafted barriers; emotions so open and welcoming they pulled him in.

Those emotions gave him hope for the very first time.

He still wasn't sure he could do it.
But, for Usagi, he wanted to try.

Because Usagi made him want to feel again.