Thanks again for stopping by!
Due to the upcoming USA Thanksgiving holiday, and then the Christmas season and all that, I will not be able to upload weekly as I have been. Between work stuff, plus all the holiday goings-on, I won't have much time to write/edit, but fear not! This story will be regularly uploaded until it is finished, even if the chapters are no longer updated weekly.
Please let me know what you think! : )
To my USA readers, Happy almost Thanksgiving!
Ch 8: Resignation
Summary: Resignation - the acceptance of something undesirable but inevitable.
Motoki was having a bad day.
A few minutes late to work for the first time in his young working life, he was subjected to a fifteen minute lecture from his father about the importance of punctuality and responsibility. The fryer went out almost immediately afterwards, and because the repair man couldn't come fix it until tomorrow morning, Motoki was forced to contend with hangry teenagers for the rest of the afternoon.
The gaping hole in what was once the front of Crown Game Center simply completed the trifecta from hell.
o0o0o0o
o0o0o0o
Mamoru sat on his stool at the counter with his book and cup of coffee, commiserating with Motoki about his terrible day, though he did have to chuckle when his friend mentioned the broken fryer because he had been present for Usagi's devastated "Whaaaaaaat?!" earlier that afternoon but didn't know the cause of the outburst.
Motoki didn't find it nearly as amusing.
But when the air changed, becoming heavier and buzzing with static, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and Mamoru tuned Motoki out completely. The girls, their voices hushed but urgent, slid out of their usual booth by the window and made their way towards the door as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves.
As she left, Usagi cast one last, longing glance to Mamoru's back. What he wouldn't give to make up some vague excuse to leave so he could run out after her and join them.
Instead, Mamoru tightened his grip on his coffee cup and let out a frustrated sigh.
o0o0o0o
A man of great perseverance and focus, Mamoru didn't shy away from hard work, and he knew changing the senshi's perspective of Tuxedo Kamen would be one of the most challenging things he's ever done.
His efforts weren't without their rewards. His skill and power as a fighter grew and boosted his confidence, leaving him in a much better position to protect himself and the one he loved.
But, in achieving the primary objective - to be trusted enough by the senshi to be invited into their inner circle and, most importantly, allowed to publicly date Usagi - not only did he fail, his plan backfired in the most unexpected way.
o0o0o0o
To achieve his primary objective, Mamoru determined he must prove to the senshi that he wasn't just out for himself, that his goals were the same as theirs: defeat the Dark Kingdom; find and protect the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou.
Though he still desired the Ginzuishou and the memories his dreams promised it would return, surely there was no need for him to actually keep or use it himself. Couldn't he just ask the princess to unlock his hidden memories once it was found? After all, the girl in his dreams only said the Ginzuishou was the key to unlocking his memories; once something is unlocked, do you still need the key?
But none of this could occur without trust, which Mamoru needed to earn not just as himself, but as Tuxedo Kamen.
Because Minako felt nothing for Mamoru but disdain, he knew he had his work cut out for him. But he was a man on a mission so took great pains to remain cordial and respectful even when that disdain sludged over his skin and churned his stomach.
He was used to negative emotions - primarily jealousy and envy – he usually paid them no mind because he learned early on that their feelings usually stemmed from their own perceived faults or insecurities (and he wasn't about to change anything about the way he looks or intentionally earn a bad grade in school just to make someone else feel better about themselves).
But the effects of Minako's feelings towards his civilian form refused to be washed away. Perhaps he was taking her feelings too personally because so much was at stake, or because this was the first time he actually cared what someone else thought about him since he kept himself in denial about his own feelings for Usagi.
Not long after her arrival, Minako was accompanying Usagi on every trip to the counter, positioning herself between him and his girlfriend, and keeping her engaged in conversation for the entire duration of their visit. He hated it, and the way these encounters had him clutching the ceramic of his coffee cup, the binding of his book, or the sleek metal of his pen too tight. This was supposed to be his time with Usagi, the only interaction the two could share in public which afforded them some semblance of privacy.
Yet he would suffer it because the alternative was Minako plopping down on the stool next to his to shamelessly flirt until they were done: fluttering her lashes, mouth pulling up into that fake saccharine smile. But also because her hand, gently placed on his arm, allowed her disdain to take root and fester. She could not know her touch had this affect, but it took everything within him not to rip his arm away; to endure.
Neither knew why she did this. Minako clearly wasn't interested in him that way. While Usagi trusted Mamoru explicitly, watching her princess openly flirt with the boy she loved brought about too many complicated feelings, so Usagi eventually stopped coming up to the counter all together.
Deep down, Mamoru suspected that was Minako's intention all along.
He just didn't know what it was about him that offended her so. And Usagi was of no help, having reassured him many, many times that Minako simply does not talk about Chiba Mamoru.
So, with his civilian form striking out, his work as Tuxedo Kamen became that much more important.
o0o0o0o
First, he considered the powers at his disposal. Besides his psychometry, Mamoru had the added strength and stamina from his transformation. Now, from where this tuxedo transformation had come, Mamoru didn't know, but there had to be something more to this - he hesitated to use the word magic but what else could it be? - than just boosted physical stats.
Why would he have the ability to transform and fight but not be granted a weapon? The senshi, sans Moon, could conjure up and call elemental magic and power. Moon could not, but she had her tiara and wand. Since he too didn't have any elemental powers at his disposal, did he have a weapon as well?
In the darkness of his apartment late one night, Mamoru transformed into Tuxedo Kamen and meditated, searching deep within himself. Eventually, an object appeared within his mind, and he reached for it, both physically and mentally. When he withdrew his arms, Mamoru's stunned expression beheld a shiny black cane now resting in his gloved hands.
"Maybe it came from... what super brainy thing did Ami-chan call it?" Usagi tapped a delicate finger to her chin a couple of times. "Ah!" she exclaimed with a point in his direction. "Extra-dimensional space pocket! That's it!"
"'Extra-dimensional space pocket?'" Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "So, like a subspace pocket from that American cartoon?" He didn't watch the show himself but could recall a discussion between classmates in a physics class.
"Yea, that's it! Ami-chan used the same example." Usagi's bright smile made him smile in turn. "We all have one! It's where I keep my wand when I'm not using it. Could you imagine if I had to carry it around with me everywhere, or bring it to school in my bag?" She laughed and brought a sheepish hand to the back of her head. "I'd probably lose it."
Mamoru was chuckling with her when his mind conjured up the memory of the two sitting on a beam of the Tokyo Tower at sunset, a bag of cookies in her hand. A lip quirked up. "What else do you keep in there?"
"Oh, not much. Luna doesn't want us to abuse it." But her smile grew impossibly wide, and with a conspiratorial lean towards Mamoru and a hand next to her mouth, she continued through a loud whisper. "But, between you and me, sometimes I keep snacks in there for after battles."
Laughing through a smile only she could bring to his face, Mamoru leaned down to steal a kiss from her still giggling lips.
The next time the two found themselves alone after a battle, sitting on the edge of a rooftop after Mamoru patched them both up, he wordlessly handed her a box of her favorite strawberry pocky. Her blue eyes widened and sparkled, and her smile brightened her face in that way it always did when she was delightfully surprised. When that overjoyed expression beamed up at him, Mamoru's heart fluttered, catching his breath.
He was still lost within her blue eyes when her hand slid into his hair to pull him down for a kiss. Closing his eyes just as their lips brushed, hers soft and pliant beneath his, he lifted a hand to her cheek, but before he could tilt her head to deepen their kiss, she broke away with a tender smile and began tearing open the package with her trademark enthusiasm.
Watching her eat was an experience. Moaning her appreciation, savoring every bite; to Usagi, all food was special, no matter how simple or common.
Mamoru turned his gaze towards the expansive city and let out a contented sigh. Tonight was warm, but their high vantage point provided access to a pleasant breeze, ruffling his hair and carrying the faintest hint of the Tokyo Bay. Sounds of the sleepless city below drifted upwards; neon lights cast down a hazy orange glow.
He was leaning back on his hands without really seeing, just basking in Usagi's aura, when something waved into his field of vision. A quick turn of his head found a grinning Usagi offering him one of her pocky sticks, which he graciously accepted, and as he bit down on the proffered treat, Mamoru reached over with his free hand to grasp her smaller one in his.
This is what he is fighting for, he thought. More of this, with her.
o0o0o0o
The cane was deceptively sturdy, able to be wielded not unlike a sword (which he would have preferred, though it was with a dry humor he supposed a cane did match his overall 'theme') minus the blade. Initially, Mamoru felt a little silly fighting with it, but its effectiveness at pushing back youma and parrying their claws or makeshift weapons quickly overrode his discomfort. Though he'd never before wielded anything remotely like this, sword or otherwise, the cane soon felt at home in his hand.
Its effectiveness as a throwing weapon wasn't discovered until the senshi were pitted against a youma with the ability to camouflage itself for short periods of time.
Sailor Moon and Sailor Venus were standing back to back - Venus' glowing hands raised, her power a short call away; Sailor Moon holding the wand to her chest - their eyes darting around for any signs of the youma's present whereabouts.
Sailors Mercury and Mars were of no help as they were both engaging Kunzite alongside Sailor Jupiter on the other end of the bridge.
Mamoru was late on the scene, but his psychometry picked up the hidden youma immediately, highlighting its aura in gold so he could track its movements with his eyes. When it finally sprang its attack, Mamoru was too far away to intervene so used all his strength to hurl the only weapon he had at his disposal, the force of its spin ruffled the unaware Venus' bangs when it passed over her head.
The youma took a direct hit to the chest, crumpling to the ground in a gasping, mangled heap.
Venus stared at the writhing creature now sporting a deep crater in his chest with a mixture of shock and disgust, but Mamoru paid her no mind.
No, all his attention was directed to Sailor Moon: her relief and gratitude sure, but mostly her wide eyes; the deep flush traveling from her face and down her neck, disappearing into the top of her fuku; the hand curled around her brooch, her fingers flexing and unflexing into the fabric of her bow.
He was pretty certain Usagi had never been more turned on in her life, and that understanding did things to his teenage brain.
The other senshi weren't even out of sight after their post-battle huddle disbanded when Sailor Moon used her superhero strength to drag him into a secluded alley and push him up against the brick wall. She had her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands in his hair, and her tongue in his mouth before he even had the chance to gasp her name.
And she couldn't get enough, taking every opportunity to challenge him to a throwing contest just to see him in motion. He wasn't sure what it was - Sailor Moon's tiara was far more powerful and effective than his cane - but her eyes would watch and her aura would flare.
And it was fun.
Mamoru was certain this was but a small glimpse into a life where he was an official member of the team. Yes, there were still monsters to fight and the deep-seeded worries about Usagi's safety every time he felt her transform, but it was all manageable, because they did it together.
Several nights later, while making out on his couch in the moonlight lit living room of his apartment, Usagi sitting in his lap with her legs bracketing his hips, her fingers caressing his face and tangling into his hair, his hands clutching at her back and waist to keep her close, the urge to ask about their new competition was too great to ignore.
"You're asking about that right now?" she laughed.
He could only shrug, his smile apologetic.
Backlit by the warm glow of her namesake, her face flushed and breaths coming out in soft pants from their kisses, she was positively beautiful. "It's fun, isn't it? And my control over the tiara has improved a lot too, even Luna noticed, though she doesn't really approve of the… well, you know."
Her smile turned wistful, and her gaze fell to the side. "I know it's a silly little competition, but in the moment, I can pretend you and I are fighting alongside each other for real, that Luna's annoyance is because we're doing it again, not because I'm once again failing to keep my distance from Tuxedo Kamen."
Her sincerity caught him straight in the chest. Moments like this always served as a reminder that she struggled with their forced distance just as much as he did. Her smiles were so bright, it was easy to forget, sometimes.
"Usa."
When those beautiful eyes returned to his, he cupped her face and kissed her until she was sighing against his lips and that sad smile was forgotten. Later, when they were stretched out along the length of the couch, her head on his chest and his fingers raking through the soft strands of the pigtail splayed across her back, her sleepy voice broke the comfortable silence.
"Don't give up on us, OK?" she whispered to his chest. Before he could respond, her head was up to look at him.
"I see it in your face sometimes, even when you try to hide it." Warm fingers brushed against his bangs away from his eyes and curled around once side of his face, the pads just touching his skin. "Like right now. They'll come around, I know they will."
She didn't clarify, but she didn't have to. It was an unavoidable fear. Will the senshi ever accept him? Them?
"The girls, Luna… they've already noticed how much stronger you are, how much more you're helping us in battle. So, it's only a matter of time, right?" When his expression didn't change, her face fell further and she sighed. "Please, Mamo-chan..."
Despite her reassuring words and brave faces, Usagi harbored the exact name doubts. She was decidedly better at hiding it, but it wasn't until now he realized just how much of this particular emotional burden he'd been leaving her to shoulder on her own.
Interlacing his fingers with hers, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the palm. "I'm sorry, Usako," he murmured, locking his blue eyes with hers. "I won't. I promise."
Her smile was back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
All he could do was keep trying.
For her.
For them.
o0o0o0o
Pinned down by a teeth gnashing, saliva spitting, howling youma, his cane was the only thing separating the creature's sharp claws from the venerable flesh of his stomach and chest. Trying to flip the creature over his head or shoving it off so Mamoru could stand and regroup was proving impossible. It seemed, the longer it fought, the stronger and more ferocious it became.
The senshi, for their part, did try to help, but they had their own youma to fight and also Kunzite to engage, so he was pretty much on his own, and Usagi's rising alarm for his safety was doing nothing for his nerves.
Which she made so much worse when she called out Tuxedo Kamen's name after another close call.
Stopping its assault, the youma sought out the source of the distressed cry. Every beat of Mamoru's heart hammered in his ears when it found Sailor Moon, staring her down and sizing her up. Neither moved until Kunzite's voice boomed from above, ordering the youma to quit wasting time and attack Sailor Moon.
The moment its weight shifted, a desperate hand shot to the creature's nearest appendage and grabbed hold.
The youma's howls were deafening. Writhing and tugging and screeching, it tried to flee but Mamoru held firm, and it was with slow-growing horror he watched the creature's flesh blister and swell beneath the golden sparks of his psychometry.
Only after the creature collapsed did he finally remove his hand, sitting on the ground with open-mouth shock at his gloved palm, then to the radiation-type burns he just inflicted on the youma, and back again.
As a hopeful future doctor, he had only ever intended to use his hands for healing and comfort. But as a hopeful future doctor turned warrior, this skill born out of desperation opened up an entirely new realm of possibilities.
o0o0o0o
As his confidence in himself and his abilities grew, Mamoru finally understood what it was to feel pride – pride in oneself, pride in one's own achievements – a feeling not even his successes in academia had been able to instill.
But it was a double-edged sword.
On one hand, that pride made him feel comfortable in his own skin for the first time, and that self-confidence turned the tide of his never-ending war with his inner demons.
On the other, it blinded him to the senshis' shared glances; had him ignoring their increasing dismay and unease.
All the warnings were there, but he'd been too proud to see.
o0o0o0o
An out of breath, tear-streaked Sailor Moon stumbled into his apartment, startling Mamoru from his studies.
"Usako…" he gasped, his pen poised above his notepad, his eyes wide and heart thumping. Her sorrow immediately blanketed the room.
It was suffocating.
She burst into fresh tears, releasing her transformation in a flash of pink light as she fell down to her knees on the carpeted floor. He was there in an instant, arms to her back and waist to pull her close.
"Usako, what's wrong?" he murmured, cursing the way his voice shook.
"I'm sorry," she cried to his chest, her fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt. "I'm so, so sorry."
Brow furrowing, Mamoru moved his hands to her shoulders so he could try to discern from her expression what he couldn't from her emotions, but her fingers dug further into his shirt, keeping her face against his chest. Her despair wormed its way across his skin, and his demons ventured out of hiding for the first time in days, encircling and firing off barrage after barrage of verbal abuse and self-doubt.
"Usa…" Anxiety gripped his chest with such force, his voice barely registered above a whisper. "What happened? Tell me, please."
After a shaky breath, Usagi finally met his gaze, and he had to bite back a gasp from the sheer amount of the anguish swimming within her blue eyes. "Mamo-chan, the girls think Tuxedo Kamen made an agreement with the Dark Kingdom in exchange for his powers."
Disbelief and shock clutched at his chest. "They what?!"
Tears beaded onto her fluttering lashes. "I told them they were wrong, that he would never-"
"But it's been weeks, Usa." Needing to move, to do something, he slipped out of her warm embrace to pace the length of his living room, an agitated hand running through his hair, grasping roughly at the strands. "They're just speculating about this now?"
"No," she responded with a shake of her head. "Apparently, they've been talking about it for days." Wide eyes whipped to her wounded expression, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. "They kept me out of the discussions because…"- her breath stuttered - "Mamo-chan, they think I'm in love with him.
"I had to deny it in front of everyone." A few tears spilled from her eyes, but his hands were there to catch and wipe them all away. Closing her eyes at the contact, Usagi covered one of his hands with hers and leaned into his touch. "I don't think I can do it again," she whispered.
Sandwiched between the smoothness of her cheek and her trembling hand, his hand went numb bearing the brunt of her grief. It pricked painfully up his arm and settled deep within his chest.
It hurt to breathe.
"Usa." He swallowed. "What can I do?"
His hope fell with her shoulders.
"I don't know."
"What if we went to the senshi together?" He was grasping, struggling. Desperate. "We'll finally tell them who I am-"
"No!" The panic on her face was so gutting, he couldn't feel the sting of her fingernails digging into his skin through her harsh grip on his shirt. Eyes widening when she realized what she had done, Usagi loosened her hold and lowered her head. "I'm so sorry, Mamo-chan," she murmured, "I know this… this isn't what we wanted, what you worked so hard for. But we can't. If we tell them, they'll never let me see you, and I can't…"
Her shining blue eyes finally returned to his face, and a hand reached up to caress his cheek. "Will you trust me on this? Please?"
Months have passed since he first kissed Usagi in the park on that beautiful sunny afternoon, yet their relationship was as forbidden now as it was the night he learned she was Sailor Moon, perhaps even more so. After all, back then, the senshi only thought it was possible Tuxedo Kamen was an agent of the Dark Kingdom.
He couldn't regret his efforts, but knowing his hard work actually turned the senshi away; knowing he and Usagi still couldn't…
"Usa," he sighed.
The hand against his cheek twitched with the flood of fresh tears into her eyes and the tremble of her lower lip. "Yes?" she whispered.
Mamoru closed his eyes.
Tsukino Usagi needs to give and receive love without restriction or restraint, to display her heart on one of the sleeves of her outstretched arms.
But their love trapped her within a gilded cage.
Sure, it was beautiful, and she could be convinced her existence within her ornate prison was a happy one, but it just wasn't the truth. And there was nothing he could do about it now except to let her go; to break open that cage so she could spread her wings and fly away to find someone she was allowed to love; someone who could love her the way she deserved.
But the words needed to make that happen died in his throat before they could become sound.
Though he knew it was for the best, even the thought of Usagi dating someone who wasn't him wrenched his heart and crushed his soul.
He loved her, and she loved him.
Why wasn't that enough?
Her relief was warm against his skin when he cradled her hand against his cheek, though his eyes burned, and the guilt from his selfishness ate him alive.
"Ok."
o0o0o0o
When the senshi appeared outside the arcade, Motoki began ushering the patrons towards the back of the building as a precaution. Unfortunately, a small group of middle school boys got too swept up in their own excitement and refused to be corralled, recklessly standing far too close to the windows for a better view, their phones held aloft. "Look! It's the Senshi! They're right outside! Is everyone seeing this?!"
Mamoru, who Motoki left alone the moment he saw his face - he was, at least, towards the back of the facility - glared into his coffee. With the fighting just outside, he already determined his place was here to protect the patrons if need be and already resigned himself to his fate, but listening to those boys treat the danger Usagi and the other girls faced as a mere spectacle had him silently seething.
A wayward energy blast struck the street, the resulting tremor eliciting a chorus of screams from the cowering patrons and cheers from the group near the front.
"Wow! Did you see that explosion? I got it on video! It's going right on my channel. This is amazing, like something out of a movie!"
"Uh... Mamoru-kun? You OK?"
Mamoru's intense blue eyes lifted to Motoki's furrowed brow, then followed the concerned gaze back down to his blood dripping onto the countertop from the three deep gashes cut into his hand when he accidentally crushed his ceramic coffee cup in a fit of rage.
Growling in annoyance at himself, the obnoxious boys at the front of the arcade, and at the circumstances keeping him inside the arcade instead of out there protecting Usagi, Mamoru grabbed Motoki's rag to wipe his hand and discreetly heal his wounds.
"Motoki-kun."
His cool, even tone stopped Motoki from grabbing the first aid kit.
"The fighting is getting too close. We have to get everyone out of here, right now." His head nodded in the direction of the game center's small kitchen. "The kitchen."
Motoki nodded, but his wide green eyes were suddenly drawn to the front windows, and he immediately flinched away from the thunderous crash outside.
He witnessed what Mamoru only sensed: Sailor Moon's back colliding with a car parked in front of the building. Mamoru gritted his teeth against the fleeting severe pain searing across his shoulders and lower back.
"Whoooooooaaaaa! That was amazing!"
Mamoru turned towards the would-be social media sensations. "I got these idiots."
The group of boys unsurprisingly rebuked Mamoru's polite but cool request to leave with the others. One of them told Mamoru just what he could go do with himself, resulting in a round of laughter and pats on the back from his friends.
But the smile Mamoru offered in response had them all sputtering and stepping back, and when he grabbed Big Mouth by the lapels of his school blazer and graciously led him towards the exit through the kitchen himself, his buddies had enough sense to follow.
Once outside, Mamoru placed his hands against the brick, closed his eyes, and scanned the building with his psychometry. Satisfied everyone was out, though he wished he could ask Mercury to confirm, Mamoru turned to leave, but his plans to join the senshi were thwarted by the frantic flare of Motoki's kinetic anxiety.
"Is this everyone? I'm just not …." Motoki was pacing, his hands fretting against his apron. "What if we forgot someone? I-I should go back in, just to make sure!"
"Motoki, it's fine!" Mamoru yelled over the din of the frightened teens. The calls to power on the side of the building were getting closer and more and more angry. "I was the last one out! We have to stay out here!"
He had to get out of there. Between the crowd of frightened teens, Motoki's anxiety, and his own worry for Usagi, Mamoru was overwhelmed and overstimulated, and he needed the kind of outlet only punching a youma, or preferably Kunzite, could provide.
"No, no!" Motoki fretted. "It's my job, my …responsibility! I have to make sure!" With that, he bolted through the back door and straight into danger, leaving Mamoru no choice but to go in after him.
Another blast shook the building and cut the power. Steadying himself against a crumbling wall, Mamoru let out an uncharacteristically foul curse. If he managed to get them both out in one piece, he was going to kill Motoki himself.
When he reached the game center's floor, an incredulous Mamoru spotted Motoki frantically locking the front doors. "Motoki! What the hell are you doing?"
Motoki's face only partially turned back towards Mamoru, his eyes focused on his task. "I made sure no one was inside, but I can't risk anyone coming in and getting hurt!"
Mamoru rolled his eyes with a full body sigh. "Forget about it and let's-" his eyes blew open wide. "Motoki!" he screamed and took off running towards his friend.
The impact of the dark energy blast was deafening. Striking the ground just in front of the arcade doors, the blast shattered glass, turned game consoles into heavyweight projectiles, and pulverized brick, concrete, and tile into dust. Motoki, who had the good sense to cover his face with his arms, was knocked off his feet but was caught by Mamoru, who wasted no time transforming into Tuxedo Kamen and throwing up his cape to shield them both from debris.
And that was the day Motoki learned his best friend was a superhero.
"Really, Mamoru-kun? A tuxedo?" There was a lot of emphasis on the last word when Motoki laughed about it later, after Mamoru got them both safely out of the building.
A deflection, Mamoru knew. He didn't miss the way Motoki's hands and voice shook, but he chose not to comment on it, instead offering a half shrug and a grin in response.
Mamoru spent what little remained of the fight by Motoki's side, helping his shell-shocked friend back into the alley to check on the patrons but left when the police arrived, wanting to avoid any difficult to answer questions about how he and Motoki got out of the severely damaged building without a scratch on them. Though Motoki looked the part regardless: pale, hair and clothes dusty and disheveled, plus the lingering tremor of his hands.
That tremor would take a month to completely go away.
o0o0o0o
Sailor Moon flew into his apartment later that evening, catching a freshly showered Mamoru on his way from his kitchen to the living room with a fresh cup of coffee, which he set down on the low table in his living room. "Usa-"
"You're OK..." she breathed the moment his gaze met hers, wiping away the relieved tears now coursing down her cheeks before throwing herself at him and landing in his arms as Usagi. "You're OK."
As her face burrowed into his chest, Mamoru looked down at her with baffled concern. "Usako," he murmured, rubbing a soothing hand over her back, "You didn't think..."
"I was so scared," she mumbled against his chest. "After Kunzite hit Crown, Minako-chan had to hold me back from running inside. Ami-chan said no one was inside, and I believed her, I did, but a small part of me couldn't help but…" A shudder ripped through her. "But you're ok… you're ok."
Mamoru closed his eyes and pushed down the guilt with a sigh. "I'm fine, Usa. Motoki-kun too. He and I were outside with everyone else when the building was hit," he lied, not wanting to add to her worry.
He felt her nod. "We saw him talking to the police afterwards, but I didn't see you. I told myself you were OK, but Toki-onii-chan just looked so shaken up, so frazzled, and he was so dirty, and I couldn't ask without-"
"I'm so sorry, Usako," he murmured. "I should have stayed longer so you'd know I was OK. I didn't mean to make you worry, I just..." He sighed again. "I didn't think."
'You never do, do you?' his demons whispered in his ear.
"Usa." Mamoru unlocked her hands from behind his back and knelt down to her level before cradling her face with his. The pad of his thumbs gently brushed away her tears. "I really am sorry."
Usagi nodded and flashed him a brilliant smile despite her tears. "I know, Mamo-chan, it's OK. I'm OK."
His kiss was supposed to be chaste and comforting, but Usagi had other ideas, tangling her hands into his hair and reangling his head to give her better access to his mouth. Mamoru followed her lead, sliding one hand into her hair, but her moan, elicited from his other hand pressing against her back to push her closer wasn't one of pleasure but pain, his psychometry flared, triggering the memory of Usagi being thrown into the car.
"Mamo-chan, I'm fine," she murmured when he ripped his mouth away. Usagi pressed her hands against his face to bring his mind back to the present. "It wasn't that bad."
"Let me see." The breath of her sigh brushed his cheek but she turned around without complaint. Gentle fingers brushed across her shoulders and down her back as he mentally checked for any severe internal injuries through her shirt, smiling softly despite himself when she shivered.
"I'm going to lift up the back of your shirt, OK?" At her nod, he lifted slowly, hissing when he saw the extensive bruising. "Usako..."
She looked over her shoulder at him. "That bad?" She whispered.
"It's... I'm not going to lie, it doesn't look great." His eyes lifted to hers. "How do you feel?"
Another sigh. "It hurts a lot," she admitted through a grimace.
"Come on." he said, grasping her smaller hand in his, "let's take off your shirt and have you lie down on the couch."
A faint blush spread across her cheeks but she nodded, and with Mamoru's help, gingerly removed her school uniform blouse. Busying himself with unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves to just before the elbows, Mamoru sat down on the low table and politely averted his gaze while Usagi made herself comfortable on his couch, nuzzling her face into a pillow.
Though his hands occasionally strayed beneath her clothes during their more impassioned make out sessions, none had ever been removed, so he studiously ignored the pink lace of her bra as he set to work healing Usagi's wounds.
Her skin was so, so soft beneath his palms, and the way her breath hitched from the initial contact drew a quiet sigh. Soft moans soon filled the room from the press of his hands as he healed the damage and then massaged the underlying muscles, taking everything in him to keep his focus on his task, especially when her eyes began watching him so intently. Only once did he allow his eyes to stray, and he nearly lost himself to her heavy-lidded gaze and the darker shake of her normally bright blue eyes.
"Mamo-chan," Usagi whispered against the pillow, "are you finished?"
His fingertips glided across her back with the barest of touches, and she shivered again. "Yes," he sighed.
"Good."
A hand fisted into Mamoru's shirt and yanked him over to the couch, where she caught his mouth for a kiss. Opening to her immediately, he carefully settled his weight over her without breaking contact and slid both hands into her hair.
o0o0o0o
o0o0o0o
All senshi meetings and gatherings were moved to the shrine indefinitely; to the one place he couldn't follow without drawing attention to himself and arousing suspicion.
When Crown was open, he saw her almost every day, all bright smiles and the occasional meaningful glance from across the arcade, sometimes a stolen moment outside if he could pull her away. Though it wasn't what he wanted, and wasn't where he thought they would be at this stage of their relationship, he had resigned himself to their current fate.
But with the game center closed for repairs, all that was gone, along with what little free time she had in the evenings as Minako was now insisting on daily meetings in the aftermath of the explosion. So, he was left with the few minutes he was allotted in the mornings during their respective walks to school; or nothing at all if her group didn't stop to chat.
"We left for Rei-chan's before the fighting started so we didn't see anything," Ami easily lied the first time they stopped on the sidewalk to chat, "but when we heard the explosion, we hurried back because poor Usagi-chan was really worried about Motoki-san."
"We all were," Makoto interjected, and both Ami and Usagi nodded in agreement.
Ami's sharp blue eyes lifted to his. "We heard you and Motoki-san were able to get everyone out safely before the explosion, Mamoru-san. That was very brave of you."
Mamoru only nodded in response, his expression reflecting modesty for the compliment.
Usagi's eye immediately caught and held his. "Thank you, Mamoru-kun, for helping him," she said, a faint blush spreading across her face, "and I'm very glad you're OK too."
The corner of his mouth lifted just a bit, resisting the urge to break out into a full grin. Usagi already made it quite clear just how glad she was. "You're welcome, Odango."
Usagi blushed and looked away. Taking that as his cue to leave, he said his goodbyes and resumed his walk to school, catching the smirk Makoto threw at Usagi just as he turned.
They still thought Usagi simply had a crush on him, huh?
That thought would have made him chuckle if it didn't weigh so heavily on his heart.
When he passed by Usagi, the feather-light touch of her fingertips grazing his hand and traveling up his wrist almost made him drop his bag. Her smug satisfaction meant she noticed, and he finally allowed that grin to pull up onto his face.
o0o0o0o
"You know, Mamo-chan, we would be able to talk more if you'd just buy a cell phone."
Mamoru could hear the smile in her voice, but he missed being able to see it; missed being able to feel her amusement. Talking on the phone the nights Luna left to do research after Usagi was supposed to go to bed just wasn't the same as actually spending time with her in person.
"And have you texting me every minute of every day? I don't think so," he chuckled, wishing he could see the pout he assumed was scrunching up her face at this very moment. "Face it, Usa, you wouldn't be able to help yourself. Luna would have it figured out before you even left for school in the morning."
"Hey! That's not tru... OK, you might actually be right." The sound of Usagi's laughter tugged on his heart strings. "But, still, it would be nice." Her voice took on a wistful tone. "I miss you, and the nights Luna leaves get really lonely..."
Everything she said afterwards was lost. Pulling his hand away from his ear, Mamoru stared at the handset in his hand before shifting his eyes out over his moonlit balcony. Then he closed his eyes and sighed, his forehead falling into the palm of his hand.
Sometimes, he really is an idiot.
Usagi screeched and dropped her phone when he climbed in through her window as Tuxedo Kamen. "Mamo-ch-" she breathed, but his hands slid into her hair as he kissed her, swallowing the rest of his name from her lips.
o0o0o0o
The nights Luna left to do research after her charge went to bed became theirs. Usagi would call, and he'd be there within minutes for a precious few hours of sitting together on her bed, their fingers interlaced as if that were the only thing keeping them together.
This time was spent whispering and talking in hushed tones so as to not alert her family; their conversations usually about anything other than senshi, princesses, or duty. It brought a sense of normalcy despite the secrecy, reminding them both of the very beginning of their relationship, before the weight of duty tried to force them apart.
But as the night waned, so too did their restraint, their kisses becoming more frequent, deeper, longer; their touches deliberate, and their words eventually faded into gasped names, muffled sighs, and swallowed moans.
Physical touch was Usagi's love language, a vital aspect of the way she shows affection. Through dating Usagi, it also became his.
Before Usagi, Mamoru couldn't stand being touched, hated the way the act amplified what he already felt were intrusive feelings. Then she came along, with her sunny disposition and even brighter smile. Through Usagi, he learned what it was to experience genuine happiness and joy, what it was to love and be loved in return.
In truth, Mamoru still hated touch, unless the person touching him was Usagi, at which point he couldn't get enough.
But the explosion outside Crown took that all away. Before Mamoru scared Usagi half to death by climbing through her window unannounced, they were both becoming more sullen, their despair from their shared predicament and forced separation threatening to create a void where their respective hearts once beat.
These nights together became everything.
o0o0o0o
Tonight was another evening of the mindless chatter they both preferred. Mamoru's head rested upon her shoulder, and an absentminded hand played with the strands of one of her impossibly long pigtails splaying across the arm bearing her scar; a scar which had only just begun to fade.
o0o0o0o
As far as everyone involved was concerned, this fight was over. Even Kunzite fled, abandoning the youma in his rage at its lackluster performance. The pitiful creature's aura was barely perceivable from where Mamoru regarded it on his perch on a nearby rooftop: hunched over on what appeared to be its limbs, breathing strained, smoke still billowing off its singed form from Sailor Mars' last attack.
The other senshi stood idly by, watching Sailor Moon call to the wand's power to begin the purification process and put an end to the creature's miserable existence.
But this youma had one last bit of fight in it, abruptly lashing out at Sailor Moon's outstretched arm with a sharp claw, which scratched a deep gash across the length of her posterior forearm, immediately staining her white glove a deep crimson.
Usagi's agonized scream put everyone in motion: the senshi to finish off the youma and Tuxedo Kamen to her side.
"Usako," he whispered, his own glove quickly becoming saturated with her blood as he mentally directed his psychometry to work on her wound.
"Mamo-chan..." Her voice was strained, tears leaking out from beneath her clenched shut eyes.
"I'm right here, Usa." Trembling fingers brushed against her cheek. "Stay with me. I need you to take slow, deep breaths, OK? In through your nose, out through your mouth."
He watched her nostrils flare as she drew in a shaky breath through her nose, and then slowly blew out through pursed lips. She was already so pale. "You're doing great, Usa." Forgetting himself and their company, he palmed her cheek and let his thumb slide across her skin in a tender caress.
"Get your hands off her!"
Startled eyes flew to Sailor Venus, whose hands glowed orange, but the violent shove of her fear and rage had Mamoru immediately returning to Usagi's face and the hand he left brushing her cheek. Though he ripped it away, the hand on her wound remained as he was desperate for more time.
"Step away from her, Tuxedo Kamen, now! Or we'll make you through force!" At Venus' words, both Jupiter and Mars stepped forward, their hands also aglow.
His panic and rage overshadowed his common sense, but as he opened his mouth to dare them to try, Usagi's raspy whisper held back his tongue. "Go, Mamo-chan. I'll be alright."
His shocked eyes fell first to her injury and then back up to her face. "Usa," he whispered. The bleeding nearly stopped, but the wound was still gaping. If he left now...
"Venus Cres-"
The growled curse falling from his lips made Usagi flinch, but he did as he was commanded, leaving behind the love of his life and her untreated severe injury.
He managed to hold himself together until he returned to the dark emptiness of his apartment, where he all but collapsed into a chair, his face falling into his hands. Though he had already released his transformation, his right hand still carried the faint smell of her blood.
His anger rekindled the next morning when his horrified eyes fell upon the very large bandage wrapping Usagi's entire lower arm. Senshi naturally heal quickly, but this wound was simply too large and too deep to have disappeared by morning. Usagi's obvious discomfort could have been avoided if the senshi had shown even an ounce of patience and restraint.
Maintaining an appropriate level of detached concern proved increasingly more difficult as Makoto and Ami delivered the clearly rehearsed script of the events which had supposedly led to her injury, describing how Usagi "accidentally" cut herself with a chef's knife while learning how to cook with Makoto the previous evening.
"Poor Usagi-chan, she had to get several stitches," Ami explained, having already looked to Usagi for permission to share more. He was very much relieved when Usagi nodded. "But she, fortunately, did not need a transfusion. The doctor was quite surprised, actually, considering the depth and size of the wound..." Her concerned blue eyes flickered over to Makoto, who nodded, before sliding back to Usagi.
Mamoru hadn't even asked; they simply volunteered the information as soon as his widened eyes fell on Usagi's bandaged arm.
Guilt often has that effect on people.
Unable to bring herself to look at him, Usagi's downcast eyes remained glued to the sidewalk for the entire duration of their chat, her guilt acting as a wall to keep him away.
Not that he could have approached her anyway.
"I... I'm sorry to hear about your injury, Usagi-chan," he said, catching her flinch at the use of her given name. "I hope your wound heals quickly."
This time, there were no held back smiles or teasing smirks; just the heavy weight of their varying degrees of melancholy and guilt.
o0o0o0o
Even here, in the quiet of her bedroom, they didn't discuss it, the look the two shared when he arrived a silent understanding to leave the now healed wound in the past where it belonged.
The tips of Mamoru's fingers traced the scar before sliding underneath her arm, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss against the fading line.
"Mamo-chan," Usagi's sigh chastised; a reminder of their agreement.
Humming an apology, Mamoru lifted his head from her shoulder to nuzzle against her cheek and the softness of her hair. As he took the scent of her and her floral shampoo, his fingertips charted a lazy path up her arm and across her shoulder to curl under her jaw, his thumb rubbing against her plush lower lip.
"Usako," he whispered into her ear. Her pleasurable shiver rippled through him, drawing a soft moan from deep in his throat.
Mapping her face with deliberate slowness, his lips glided across her skin, placing light pecks everywhere but her mouth. Her breath hitched and lips parted whenever his mouth came near, but he couldn't help teasing her, smiling against her skin when she released yet another impatient groan, and her frustration flitted across his hands and lips.
The next time he kissed the corner of her mouth but not her lips, Usagi locked her hands around his head and finally pressed her lips to his with a relieved moan. But she did not appreciate his amused chuckle, harrumphing as best she could with her tongue in his mouth, and scooted herself down the bed, tugging on him until he fell down on top of her.
Both of his hands wound themselves into her hair as they kissed, long, slow, and deep. Her fingernails scratching down his sides and back up his back elicited a shudder and a deep moan.
Whimpered when he broke off their kiss, Usagi was soon gasping softly from the wet, open-mouthed kisses he placed down her neck while one of his hands confidently roamed her body; finger tips caressing exposed skin, large hands palming and gently kneading the swell of her bottom or her breast through her clothes.
"Mamo-chan..." she moaned, arching herself against him.
He knew precisely what she wanted; what she struggled to ask for with words – the lust-filled song of her desires danced off her skin and traveled straight to his groin, and he rocked his hips against her just once with a low moan.
While the two have been intimately exploring and learning each other's bodies for weeks, sex was the final step Mamoru was not quite ready to take. The scared orphan who spent years yearning for love feared it, but the very much in love teenage boy was steadily finding his courage.
And that teenage boy was not going to leave his girlfriend bereft.
Usagi arched against his hand with a loud, relieved gasp when Mamoru's fingers finally slipped beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms and settled into the slick warmth between her legs.
In his apartment, she could be as loud and uninhibited as she wanted, something he enjoyed very, very much, but here in her bedroom, with her family just down the hall, quiet was the name of the game. Because she struggled to stifle her whimpers and lustful moans, he pulled his lips from her neck with one last swirl of his tongue and returned to worship her mouth, swallowing the pleasurable sounds she made along with his own.
But time was never on their side. The quiet alarm they set at the start of every evening buzzed far too soon, resulting in an annoyed curse from Mamoru and a defeated sigh from Usagi, leaving them in a varied frustrated state of arousal. But it couldn't be helped, Luna could be back any time, and he could not be here when she did.
After confirming nothing was left behind to alert Luna to his presence, Mamoru pulled Usagi into his arms for one last embrace, settling for a lingering kiss to her temple instead of his usual kiss good night (not trusting either to not drag the other back down onto the bed) before whispering his love into her hair.
"I love you too, Mamo-chan," she murmured, snuggling her face into his chest.
After transforming into Tuxedo Kamen, Mamoru locked eyes with Usagi and lifted the back of one hand to his lips, smiling against her skin when she flushed.
With one last gentle squeeze of her hand, he was off, already counting down the days until he could see her again.
o0o0o0o
o0o0o0o
Motoki's self-ordained title of 'Superhero Confidant' was a source of pride. Sometimes, he even considered having a pin commissioned that he could wear on his Crown apron.
At the beginning, Motoki found endless amusement in making Mamoru as uncomfortable as possible by joking about his running around all of Tokyo late at night with attractive girls in short skirts; wiggling his eyebrows while implying varying dalliances.
The withering glares and muttered regrets for not having left Motoki to his own devices inside the arcade always resulted a fit of laughter.
When he eventually thought to ask if Usagi knew about Mamoru's alter ego, Motoki was thrown off by Mamoru's very pointed look, from which he had an epiphany of sorts, as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, and he could see for the very first time.
And he no longer thought jokes about Mamoru's late night escapades were funny considering it was Usagi and her friends running around with him and fighting those horrible, ugly monsters.
"That day Crown... was Usagi...?"
Following his train of thought, Mamoru nodded. "She left with the girls just before the Dark Kingdom showed up."
"I remembered seeing her there!" Motoki exclaimed. "I think that's why I was so insistent on going back inside, because she didn't come out with us!" He paused the hand running through his hair. "Wait, so, when Sailor Moon hit that car, that was actually Usagi?" His eyes narrowed into a glare. "What the hell were you doing inside with me? Why weren't you out there protecting her?"
Mamoru's expression darkened at the accusation, but Motoki ignored it and fisted a hand into the lapel of Mamoru's uniform jacket. "You better be damned sure nothing else happens to her."
The intense look in Mamoru's eyes was all the answer he needed.
o0o0o0o
The closure of the game center resulted in an influx of unplanned free time, and Motoki spent most of it in Mamoru's apartment to keep his poor friend company, not really caring if Mamoru actually wanted him there or not.
Mamoru did find having a somewhat impartial third party to talk to about his superhero work very liberating, noting that Motoki was the grounding, empathetic realist he hadn't known he needed, even if he did insist on calling out "Team Moto-ru!" with a pumped up fist every time he stopped by.
"Mamoru-kun. Those reasons for keeping your relationship with Usa-chan a secret... it wouldn't have anything to do with-" Motoki gestured to all of Mamoru. "-this, would it?"
"You mean my being Tuxedo Kamen?" Mamoru deadpanned with a roll of his eyes. When Motoki enthusiastically nodded, Mamoru continued without sarcasm. "Yea, the senshi don't trust him – Tuxedo Kamen, I mean – and neither Usako nor I have been able to change their minds." He sighed. "Minako doesn't like me either, for some reason."
Propping up his chin on his hand when he finished, Mamoru his gaze turned wistful, and he withdrew into himself.
Motoki wisely dropped it.
o0o0o0o
A self-admitted gossip, Motoki enjoyed the insider knowledge Mamoru provided and was repeatedly entertained by his descriptions of some of the more ridiculous looking youma.
"Serious question. How did that thing actually... move?"
Mamoru shrugged. "Beats me. If I don't understand how something works during these fights, I just attribute it to magic."
Motoki snorted. "You don't believe in magic. When that class put on a magic show during the festival you called it 'nonsense' and refused to go."
Another shrug. "That was a long time ago."
"IT WAS LAST YEAR!"
"Well, a lot has happened in the past year. Last year I wasn't transforming into tuxedo armor to fight youma nor dating a girl who turned into a super heroine via a magic brooch and has friends who can conjure the elements, yet here I am." With a sigh directed at the exasperated look Motoki threw his way, Mamoru continued. "OK, fine. How would you explain it?"
Desperate to one-up his smug friend, Motoki thought long and hard about the monster's impossible body mechanics, certain of his ability to work out a more logical explanation than magic for the youma's impossible body mechanics.
But after several minutes passed and Mamoru long since picked up a book to pass the time, Motoki conceded with a very defeated sigh. "...Magic..."
Mamoru turned a page in his book without looking up. "There you go."
o0o0o0o
His time away from the arcade also allowed for reflection into the significant changes Motoki has seen in Mamoru over the last few months.
His brooding friend usually exuded a sense of uninterested detachment for the people and goings on around him, giving those people the false impression of rudeness or snobbery. But Motoki saw right through the act from the very beginning; able to see the lonely boy hidden beneath the closed off body language and intense stares.
Mamoru had quietly confided his traumatic childhood about two years into their friendship so Motoki did his best to be patient and understanding, even though it was sometimes all he could do to stop himself from smacking Mamoru upside of his head out of frustration.
How the hell Mamoru ended up with Usagi, of all people, Motoki didn't know, but he suspected Usagi herself deserved most of the credit. Since she was very small, Usagi had a special way of connecting with people, even if Motoki spent more of his teenage years than he cared to admit scaring off boys who misconstrued Usagi's outgoing and friendly nature as anything other than what it was.
Usagi, for her part, was always completely oblivious to their intentions, usually chiding him afterwards for chasing off her friends.
Because he was well aware of Mamoru's reputation, when Motoki picked up on Usagi's crush on Mamoru – the lingering stares, faint blushes, engaging Mamoru in conversation during her frequent trips to the counter - he felt it was his duty as her de facto big brother to protect her heart, intending to ward her off should he at all suspect she intended to confess.
But first, he wanted to give them both time; time for Usagi to harmlessly engage her crush; time for Mamoru to engage with another real life person. And who better than Miss Sunshine and Rainbows herself?
So he watched and gave them time.
A casual observer would have only witnessed a teenage girl with a crush on a friendly but uninterested slightly older teenage boy.
But Motoki was not a casual observer.
He knew Mamoru well; too well, if you asked Mamoru. Skilled in reading Mamoru's carefully hidden emotions, Motoki eventually found the warmth in Mamoru's eyes when speaking with Usagi, the genuine amusement and fondness.
And then it clicked.
Mamoru's shocking, totally-out-of-character decision to hang out at the game center, where he would occasionally be forced to interact with actual, real life people, followed by his aforementioned interactions with Usagi, should have clued Motoki in much sooner.
But Mamoru is just too damn good at hiding his feelings. If Mamoru hadn't emotionally exposed himself to Motoki that day on the school roof, Motoki would have doubted his and Usagi's compatibility, figuring Mamoru incapable of being emotionally present to a girl who loves as freely and openly as Usagi.
Someday, when he tells this story at their wedding (he was a romantic like that) Motoki would be sure to highlight all the details showcasing his amazing observation skills but one; the one which all but confirmed his suspicions before confronting Mamoru on the school roof; the one which would probably cause Mamoru to die from embarrassment (if he wasn't murdered by her father first - Motoki was only half kidding. Tsukino Kenji is a very loving but also very protective father): over the years, Motoki developed and honed the ability to recognize the awkward dance of meeting your significant other in the bathroom for a quick make out session.
They were good, he'd give them that.
Probably the best he's seen, in fact. But in the end, Motoki always figures it out.
Motoki was as happy for Mamoru as he was scandalized that Usagi was in there with him, but as long as those two were happy and continued to remain discreet, Motoki figured he would, just this once, make an exception.
o0o0o0o
As the repairs to Crown dragged on, and Mamoru became more and more insufferable, Motoki determined it was his duty as Mamoru's best friend and confidant, as well as a founding member of Team Moto-Ru, to cheer Mamoru up during his time of need.
"Oh, Mamoru-kun, did you know Tuxedo Kamen-sama is a bit of a heart throb for the local girls?"
Performing an exaggerated impersonation of a teenage girl, Motoki sighed as he clasped his hands to his chest and bashfully fluttered his eyelashes. Already he could feel Mamoru's glare but gleefully chose to ignore it.
"He's just so tall and handsome! Not to mention sooooooooo dark and mysterious! They're all just clamoring for their chance to be rescued and carried off into the moonlight just as I was!"
Mamoru put his face in his hands and groaned. Loudly.
Nailed it.