Chapter Eighteen
He could feel the anxiety simmering beneath the skin like the sucking depths of despair. The rampant, raging feeling had been settled there in his chest for far too long. He had worked with every ounce of strength he could muster to make things better, to shift that burning ember from his soul. He had done much wrong in his two lifetimes; he had also done much right.
The white chalk dust frosted his fingertips like an ever present winter, a place he'd banished himself to all week. Beneath the churning thoughts, the carefully reworked rubble of his life, there had been hope. He dusted the specks free, quickly wiping at faded jeans as if he could remove the flakes from his being.
It was much too late for that. Though the specks currently residing on his bent knees originated from the new drywall of the arcade, the symbolism was just too much to bear. It would take more than money, more than simple trappings to pick up the shattered pieces of his life, and make things as they should be. It would take so much more than he could currently give.
The battle just before Serenity's appearance had nearly demolished that stupid, loved old building. Motoki had been frantically trying to get estimates ever since, but the contractors were either booked solid or no longer in business. No wonder the mall hadn't been rebuilt. No wonder the city was practically in ruins. He'd been too obsessed to notice, too completely driven to go back and check on his friend, even though…
What? How long had it been really? That night seemed ages in the past, but it had only been a week or two. Eventful, definitely, but not long enough to get things back to normal. At first sight, the place was completely ruined. A curious hand sought the ache in his chest at the thought. There were only so many familiar places in town and the Crown had been a constant in his life until that moment.
Construction workers were in high demand and it would take months without an income to secure one. Rather than be destroyed by the idea, Mamoru had instantly pulled out his wallet. Without the distractions of class, it would take no time to patch the place up. Mr. Furuhata came, along with two more sons and a few others. Between the lot of them, the place would be back to normal in a week or so, he was sure.
Tired, dark blue eyes graced the top of a coffee table littered in paper. His grades had come in, something he'd been dreading for days now. If it hadn't been for a simple, well-meant phone call only yesterday, he'd probably be tearing his hair out in frustration. So lucky; it seemed someone above had been watching his back through the tempest. Someone, he was sure, who had a personal stake in his future.
The day after his and Usagi's first less-than-impressive date, he'd received a phone call from a worried professor. With so many excellent semesters under his belt, it had come as quite a shock to see him skip two, yes two, finals even after taking on an extra credit teaching class to raise his grade. The concern of the usually detached voice on the other end of the phone had…touched him.
The feeling was still uncomfortable and strange. Perhaps even worse to his logical brain, the conversation had lead deeper than he really wanted it to go and revealed a hint of what he'd really been up to for the past four months. Hours spent in an orphanage, fighting for the friendship of a child he was sure hated him, days spent trying to organize his life and thoughts long enough to put two things together. Even though he couldn't bear to speak of his golden angel, the other man had somehow known. It was like her touch could be sensed through the floundering explanation, the tense exhaustion that permeated everything all at once.
It had been enough. The quiet voice on the phone had soothed his worries, promised him excellent marks despite missing his test, and quietly hung up.
The weight still bore at his chest: gratitude, resentment, and perhaps a little bit of hope. It didn't fix everything; he would still need to retake the other course before graduation, but that was much more doable than trying to juggle two extra classes next semester. Perhaps if he was lucky again, a summer session would open up and have him back on track for the winter.
Luck. He was sure there was another word for it now, one that started with F.
It didn't matter if they even existed anymore. Those cackling, hunched old wenches had twisted their fingers deep into his life, had given him the pretense of everything a man could want. He groaned, casting angry eyes around the beautiful, empty apartment. So much of his time had been spent chasing the things that would destroy him in the end. The women, the money, the fame…it was a chilling lesson in psychology; one he would not soon forget.
There were no reservations about that blood test, the convenient talent scout, or the perfectly timed sponsor willing to help him into college. No, luck had nothing to do with it.
It was amazing to him, how even after all this time, the only goal they could see was separation. It was as if their affronted past could somehow override the necessity of the present –as if they could dare reach that all-seeing eye straight into a future they couldn't control and somehow still write the outcome. A sneer lifted the corner of his mouth as he thought of it.
The Fates could cry all they wished. They had failed.
Tsukino Usagi was, for all outward appearances, quite a normal girl. A little backward when it came to the ways of the world, and probably hopeless for life with technology, but that would probably change once he had a chance to give her his gift. Her parents apparently disliked the use of cell phones, but he'd bought her one anyway. He wasn't really looking forward to being on their favorites list anytime soon and it would take her a while to figure out how to use it.
The delightful blond had been helping at the arcade as well, though she seemed much better at fidgeting uneasily than really doing any help. She was too clumsy to hand out drinks, completely useless with a tape measure, and hilariously incapable of using a hammer. Still, the ray of light seemed more than happy to sit around and try to amuse everyone.
It was in those times, even an hour ago, when he would watch her. The ridiculous home-made clothing reeked of a mother swaddling her baby, but the woman beneath was beginning to shine through. With that spicy sense of humor and ridiculous laugh, he'd found himself smiling at the banter, enjoying the stupid puns. He loved how expressive her face was, how ridiculous her features could twist and dance as she told a story or reacted to something said.
It had been there all along. He retraced over every fight they'd had, remembered how fiery and passionate she had always been, how her insults had backhanded his ego more times than he'd care admit. He'd teased her about her grades, while silently cursing her clever mind; loved her comebacks, the way she was always invading his space as if their arguments were more physical than mental. He'd enjoyed her right from the start, even if he'd only seen the child.
Even her friends, who were constantly glued to her side, seemed willing to learn more about him. It was a nice change of pace. Last time he'd seen them all together, he was pretty sure the guardians had been howling for his head on a pike. Such were the strange twists of life. It was difficult to find common ground with most of the giggling hoard. Amy, the shy techie, seemed more his pace than the rest. For the sake of hovering heaven blue eyes and a nervous smile from his goddess, he found himself commenting if only a little bit. He didn't know these girls, except for a much abashed Rei, and it would take some time before they could talk freely.
Motoki had been all shock and outrage when he'd walked in on a lively conversation and found his best friend smiling along. A wry laugh rumbled free from Mamoru's chest at the memory. It would have been quite strange had their roles been reversed. He'd never been one for group conversations unless it was a debate, and updating the red Formica countertops hardly qualified.
His cheek still ached a little from that punch the other night. He brushed dust covered fingers across his face, knowing his friend sported a matching bruise along the jaw. They'd both had points worth noting, and thankfully it had been left at that. Motoki never should have kept the information from him. He never should have judged Usagi so harshly, or given in to the despair that had ruled his existence for so long.
As much as he would love to blame the Fates for that, it would have been a lie. True, if he'd had a real family and real friends to call his own, it never would have happened. In the end, it was his decision, one that he'd sold himself to so deeply that even the thought of both nemesis and warrior together had seemed impossible. Looking back, he could see how silly the idea was.
The three women were quickly melding into one increasingly complex creature. Love was such a foreign concept to him and yet there it was, staring right through him framed in golden lashes. The date had proven nothing. He hadn't learned a single thing about her and the enigma wriggled in the back of his mind like a parasite. All it had proven was the initial attraction; and perhaps his ability to get close to her if he so desired. Which he did.
It simply wasn't enough. If nothing else, the last few days working on the arcade had been spent puzzling over that beautiful mind as if it were some sort of brain teaser he couldn't leave alone. They didn't seem to speak much in public, yet she was always watching him. At first, especially the day after, she'd been curious about the surprise ending he'd left her with. Even he'd been shocked at such a bold move after everything that had happened.
Then the curiosity had shifted, grown dark and suspicious. Even as he smiled with the laughter of her friends, he could see she was writhing in her seat. He could see how that tension was getting to her. Usagi did not do well with those kinds of emotions. She was not equipped to handle the uncertainty. When her friends had left this afternoon, allowing their leader to trail behind, he had reached for her.
The spark still tingled in his fingers from her arm. There were no words passed between them, frankly he felt his actions spoke louder than all that. He promised he would be by soon, had kissed her hand with all the tenderness and love that he felt for her. Even as the true meaning of that word had evaded him, he knew it would be her or nothing.
Love. It had been a question in his mind for years now. Something he was sure existed and yet had never been able to pin down and define. Why did he love her so much? How was it possible for someone like him to even know what it meant? How could he hope to return the sweet forgiveness, that same openness when he could barely handle a conversation that wasn't removed and polite? How could he begin to say why it was he desired so much to be with her?
The answer had been so simple. It had been the most breathtakingly beautiful moment he'd ever seen in his life today. A mother, harassed and exhausted, had come in off the street for a quick drink of water. Behind her, a young boy no more than four had trailed along, fat tears running a marathon down his face. Usagi, bless her beautiful, otherworldly soul, had instantly reacted.
It began with the funny faces and quickly launched into a comic tongue war that left the screaming child giggling hysterically. The sound of that musical laughter had burrowed into his soul like a living beast, roared in the back of his mind and all but trampled any other thought that might have surfaced. Flashbacks of Moon checking the little children with her long flowing hair in the grass, how he'd always attributed her love of children to some deeper meaning. To her, it was just normal, but to him it had been beyond words, beyond description.
And he had known, oh gods, how he'd suddenly seen exactly why he'd loved her so much. Deep beneath the skin, he still could feel the pathetic heartbreak of a sterile hospital bed, the dingy torture of a room –of a life- without it. He had known nothing, not even his real name until years after the event. Let alone the strange, faceless photograph he had of who would have been his parents in this life. Even the picture had seemed worthless. There was no recollection of the people they were, or why they had ever gotten in the car to begin with. It was only the emptiness, the loneliness, and the longing. In his heart and soul, that broken child begged for the soothing sweetness that was her core. Nothing could erase the past he'd trudged through, nothing could make those memories a fantasy.
For all the weird explanations, the extrapolations that could be used to describe that undeniable pull toward her, it came down to this. It was not the lusty love at first sight as it had been with Endymion, nor was it the instantaneous dislike of a girl who seemed incapable of doing anything worthwhile. It was simply one soul seeing another for all that it was, and resolutely clicking into place. It was simply logical, mathematical sense. The Fates may have made him fatherless for eternity, but they had also cemented his love for her for all that time, with or without any other factor.
Perhaps Motoki had said it best in that moment. On seeing what Mamoru could not cover in his face, the wise manager had placed a knowing hand on his shoulder. He'd turned, so surprised, so confused at the sudden touch. They were guys; you didn't just invade personal space like that. And yet, that tender knowledge had made that moment so heartbreaking, he just didn't seem to care.
"You're beginning to understand," he'd said. Simple as that. As if his whole world hadn't been shaken, shifted, and changed in that moment. As if suddenly he was on equal ground only to find that everyone else had always assumed he'd been there with them. Love was more than desire, longing, or need. That earth-shattering, life-changing force boiled down to this: healing, soft, grateful, and sweet. Eternal.
He knew. That knowledge gave him power- gave him back the drive he had been using all this time to find her that had somehow been lost in translation. Even without the golden link grafted into his soul like a chain, free from a Titan's curse that would enslave him forever, he –Chiba Mamoru- loved Usagi desperately and passionately. As if these things had never existed, as if she were not some fallen goddess; he just loved the sweet, compassionate woman she was.
A smile lit his face. The frosted fingers rubbed at his stubble in thought. His Odango would change everything in his life, throw back the curtains and rip them from the wall. And he would hurt and ache and love every second of her chaos and happiness. He would learn to laugh till his sides ached, and use stupid pet names, and eventually he would make that deal as permanent as physically possible. It was a strange flash of the future, a call of destiny more than a fancy. She would ruin his perfect world and he would die to protect her while she did it.
The thought brought an unexpected pang at his rib. He sought the twinge with his fingers, spreading the specks of dust across the already clouded old t-shirt. It still ached sometimes, even days after the incident. He wondered faintly if it always would. She had severed it with decisive finality and he still didn't know quite why. It had been their only means of communication in this life. It had pulled him to her like a magnet when she was in danger, had forced him into harms path for no other reason than to save her. Not the other Senshi. Her.
Without that tug at his side, how could he possibly protect her? How could he possibly know she was in danger without the rush, the fleeting touch of her psyche in his mind? How would he know, he wondered, when he was needed? More importantly, how would he know if he was needed?
The young man stood, his movements quick and agitated in the dying sunlight as he paced. The idea that his goddess simply did not need him anymore was too terrifying to consider. But it had been months since that was the case, since Christmas. He could pull the pristine memories from the vault of his mind like instant replay, knowing even as he watched her flip and dive and slash her way through the ranks, that she was never meant to be a fighter.
It didn't change the fact that she was proving to be a pretty damn good one.
She was so strong now. With so much behind her, and so much left ahead, he had no qualms with the idea of his warrior taking on the world. The thought lanced his soul with guilt. Serenity herself would never have made it as a Senshi; she had no capacity for it. The sweet, ethereal goddess had been fragile in many ways, everything he had craved to protect in a harsh world. She was the embodiment of everything he felt he had lost in growing up as a planet's future ruler. She was everything he had ached to be and yet simply could not.
Though, in retrospect, it had changed her too. The faltering, awkward teen had felt the brush of deep depression, had taken fate into her own tiny hands and molded it to her pleasure. Her past had been in no way apparent as she did so; that invincible half of her that had been hidden within the slumbering Titan finally brought to light. She had taken so much of herself and shifted that reality, chosen the facets to augment and allowed others to fade into the background. Heck, she'd even screamed in the face of fate by severing their bond, had challenged the course of their lives together.
His eyes settled on the grades from last semester, wondering what kind of future that could be. They weren't tied together, and for all their future existences through the corridor of time, he was positive the Fates would tangle their wretched hands back into their lives. Setsuna had made it perfectly clear he would be an orphan forever, something that pained him to understand completely. Yet how could he possibly ask her to go through this hell every single time they were reborn? How could she possibly choose him without the security of their bond? How would she know she was meant to be his?
The palpable fear threatened to crush the life from his chest. Even one life without her would be torture. Even the last two and a half years without her had nearly killed him –had changed him. Would she still choose him? Was her draw to him as powerful as he now knew his to be? How would he know? She didn't need him, she'd made that perfectly clear. And without that need… he shuddered, searching for even a single ray of comfort.
What he wouldn't give for comfort of any kind.
The unbearable warmth that was Tsukino Usagi seared his chest; so inviting and warm and sweet he wondered if she could bear to share it with him. After all he had done to her. After all he had given for her. Was it enough?
He laughed bitterly at the thought, knowing any penance he could give would be a pathetic offering. His shoulders hunched as he pressed hands to his tired eyes. Even if he could spend all of eternity serving her, it would never suffice. He'd torn her from her throne, enslaved her soul to a dark god who still could call them from beyond Tartarus. He had ripped her heart from her chest and crushed it for months before she'd finally given in… and then he'd hunted her like a starving animal.
It was woefully inadequate to say the least, but maybe there was still hope for them –if she could find it in her heart to forgive him. It would take years to gain her trust; it would take him years more to feel like he'd earned it. All the while, the toasted thoughts of belonging filmed that hope like dew on morning grass. Like the night they met so long ago.
He breathed long and slow, forced his thoughts together again. His forehead pressed against the glass solidly, as if he could soak some of those last rays of hope through skin and skull. It was too much. The depth of them went on forever into his head. All this worrying was doing nothing for them and even less for his nerves.
After all, wasn't he Tuxedo Kamen? Wasn't he the devilishly charming Chiba Mamoru? Who cares if she wasn't drawn to him for those reasons, he'd charm the hell out of her till she just couldn't take it anymore! He'd hold her light up until there was no denying for anyone else that his Titan reigned supreme! He'd spoil her so damn rotten that any other man would pale, crumble, and turn to ash in her beautiful eyes! He'd lay waste to this horrific reality, this tortured, fear-drowned world and rebuild it in her image and she would know, as he knew…
He straightened, launching himself away from the window and out of his troubled thoughts. He still felt incapable of showing everyone else the true nature of his intentions, but that didn't mean he couldn't start with the first step. One individual, in particular, would be the first beneficiary of his newfound resolutions. It was with that thought that he reached for his cell phone and dialed.
.
.
….
Butter colored light bled the front room dry, so thick and blinding that even photographs seemed nothing but glinting memories. The sticky, honey colored rays clung to the familiar items through the doorway, filtered through hair and skin, and seemed to warm the entryway by simply existing. It was false, lackluster, a lie. The heavy glow sat perched on the objects without a single thought of heat.
The blond trudged through. The sight of the front room seemed dispassionate despite the sunlight for some reason, left her thoughts trailing as she called a swift "I'm home!" into the house. Her bag was deposited in the rack, her shoes kicked from dainty feet. Within moments the living room crawled out from behind a corner even as her mother's soft voice echoed the greeting. The words were lost, though, never to be found.
There, lounging along the couch as if he owned it, was Chiba Mamoru. The sight was so surprising that she didn't even bother to return the words her mother had sent her. He looked good, as always, his unkempt black hair feathering across his forehead and catching the afternoon sunlight. He wore a loose, plain black button down, probably something meant for his internship, and crisp pants. She suddenly realized her mouth had gone dry and she was eyeing him like a chunk of meat in a grocery store. When her eyes snapped up to his face, he was grinning wickedly, obviously reading her thoughts.
The long, powerful body bunched together as he lifted himself from the sofa and all but stalked over to her side. Almost wildly, she noted how big he was, how he seemed to block out the sunlight from the front window, and how he could easily crush her tiny, scrawny little form like it was nothing. His finger brushed her cheek as he bent to lean a kiss against her forehead temptingly. He was the only one in the room for all she cared when those midnight dark eyes settled on her face again, impish grin both suggestive and sweet.
"Why don't you go change out of your school clothes, ne Odango-chan? So I don't feel like a pedophile?" the use of the hated nickname still rankled after all this time.
"And why don't you stop looking at me like that so I won't feel like a skank, ne, Buta-kun?" He chuckled, flitting his eyes toward her very forgotten mother who seemed to be hiding her smile in the coffee mug. Usagi reddened a little, glancing back up at his haughty face accusingly and muttering to herself. "You are such a jerk."
"Only for you, Odango."
She rolled her eyes, quickly making her way toward the stairs and the safety of her room. What on earth was he even doing here anyway? And why hadn't he called her first! Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought, wondering if he was trying to get himself killed by her father. And what had he been doing chatting with her mother! The idea of those two talking was like ice bergs and giraffes. It didn't make any sense, what on earth would the topic be other than her!
Doubtful eyes scanned the emptiness for a moment, pondering what the two others had in common. Global warming? The thought had her snickering momentarily before she could remember the reason for the comparison.
Because Mamoru was…was just a jerk! And a bully! How dare he come over and try to charm her mother without even letting Usagi know it was happening! Even traditional boyfriends had to go through the awkward 'meet the parents' phase, and they weren't even dating! And part of her would have so loved to watch him writhe beneath the searching glare of her papa! A delicious cackle spurted free at the thought, imagining a nervous and awkward chibi-Mamoru twiddling his thumbs while her shark-mouthed father bellowed.
It would serve him right! That pig! He spends all week acting like some sort of hero down at the Cown, kisses her hand and everything, and for what? It wasn't like he'd kissed her the other day! It wasn't like he'd done anything but tease her!
And why hadn't he! Seriously, the guy does absolutely everything in his power to snag a date with her, now that he knew, and instead of roses and candlelight and all the mushy stuff, he'd taken her on some awkward hike! Well, so it was a beautiful walk through the woods, and he did carry her back to the car. But that didn't excuse the fact that he was teasing her! Still! A low growl rubbed at her throat. Then to just leave her on the porch like a drowned puppy! She wasn't so sure she wanted another date with him! What would it be this time: champagne with live lobsters on the plate?
The grumbling continued as she stomped down the hallway to the warm surroundings of her bedroom. She turned, closing the door with lightning speed as if to keep him out. Even that had her scoffing deep down, though, as she turned to view her room. The charming, knock-your-socks-off grin had been languishing on his disgustingly perfect face, which could only mean one thing: her romance novel-loving mama was currently being enchanted to no end.
The thought made her thunderous mood darken.
Sure, use it on Moon and use it on a housewife, but Usagi? No! Not that she wanted his delicious attention. Not that she wanted those intense, haunting eyes on her every second. No! She slid from the door, clenching her fists in rage at the thought. There was no reason not to march right back down that and knock him silly for treating her like that! Or maybe not treating her like that. Sky blue eyes glowered dangerously.
A silver box lay temptingly on her bed, shining in the afternoon sunlight like a gift from the heavens. The anger melted at the sight, replaced with a certain amount of childish curiosity. Warily, still miffed, the girl crossed the room, narrowly missing the slumbering cat at her bedside. The package all but begged to be touched, but even that seemed suspicious. Either it was from Mamoru, in which case it could literally hold anything from roses to spiders, or she had a secret admirer.
She snorted, lifting the box and tearing through the wrapper. If it was spiders, she'd make that cocky jerk come up here and chase every single one down. Not that their bickering had ever been so nasty, she amended at the thought. In fact, the bitterness most recently had been because of betrayal, a lack of trust. She shivered, taking a moment to quell the torrid memories. The feel of his lips on her neck hinted such pitiful, childish fighting would never be the threat again. She growled, elbowing the thought aside. Finally, the lid lifted free and the tissue paper was flung away. White teeth nibbled at her already sore lip as she stared at the gift in apprehension.
Obviously, the man had it out for her wardrobe. He'd made himself perfectly clear the night of the dance that something fishy had been going on with it. To her own horror, she had discovered the tell-tale instructions hidden within her mother's sewing drawer yesterday morning. He had made an excellent point about his tux, though, and she hated admitting he was right. One glance in her vanity mirror showed a girl in a poorly fitting school uniform and a young face. He'd had a point about that, too.
It was hard admitting he was right. The guy was so insensitive! So what if she looked…like, 5 years younger than what she actually was. He, as some weird clandestine soul mate, should have been able to see through that like tissue paper! He should have just…known! This was not how fairy tales went; it was not how these kinds of things were supposed to play out! She lived and breathed a world of fantasy- well, maybe a world of horror- and it just…wasn't….
A few tears slipped free as she turned to the mirror again. The rumpled folds of her uniform sagged, bagged and prodded in all the wrong places. She'd always assumed that every school uniform ever made had been like that, but Naru's fit. It wasn't the most flattering piece, but at least it didn't make her look ten. Mamoru thought she was beautiful; you didn't just traipse around Tokyo in a tuxedo and top hat for some girl you didn't even like. You definitely didn't shift your whole life around for a girl you couldn't stand to look at. It all boiled down to that one fact: her clothes had hidden her in the guise of a child.
The uniform slid free, fell to the ground like a skin shed. The jerk had a few good points; and maybe he wasn't as shallow as all that. After all, he had talked about much more than just the clothes that night on the side of the road. Their heated conversation brought feelings rolling to the surface, which she immediately pushed to the side.
Her eyes drew back toward the waiting box, tracing the soft lines as if it were some sort of bomb in need of diffusing. She smoothed the soft fabric thoughtfully, testing the sweetheart neckline with her forefinger. Even lifted to the sunlight, she couldn't seem to find something wrong with the cute sundress; and the least she could do was try it on. She struggled through the contraption momentarily and slid the zipper home.
The sunshine yellow cupped snugly around the waist, accented with a tiny bow that made her smile despite herself. She turned to the sparse mirror, eyeballing it critically for any sign of perversity. The A-line skirt stopped barely above the knee and the neckline wasn't too busty. She slid a fingernail across the eyelet pattern, touched the fabric with the flat of her palm. The girl in the mirror looked trim and young and beautiful, versus the drowned rat of a child in the school uniform.
Glowering, she realized she'd have to find something else to be bothered by, because despite Mamoru's lack of personality, he did have pretty wicked taste in clothes.
.
.
….
The retreat back downstairs revealed her tormentor standing calmly in the entryway and her mother nowhere in sight. Apprehension chilled her to the bone just thinking about it, though the slight pang of relief at not having to show her the dress was a bonus. The thick, ebony black hair flicked upward, filling the space between with the midnight sky of his gaze. She froze on the steps, afraid a single move would break the strange truce between them.
"Where's mom?" she asked finally, noting he'd taken his time to look her over.
"I didn't eat her, if that's what you're asking." He answered, sardonic smile tilting the corner of his mouth. She gulped, feeling the nervous tremble of her hands as he launched himself from the door and stalked across the room toward her. This was a mistake! Nervous jitters bounced and clanged in her stomach as his hand slid warmly around hers. "Ready?"
"For what," came the quiet, albeit breathy reply. There were too many possibilities, and frankly with him this close, the steamier ones were rising to the top of the list. The previous frustration and anger that had so troubled the little blond minutes before popped like an overfilled balloon as he tsked and raised that hand to his lips.
"Really, Odango?" he rumbled quietly, so close she could reach out and grab his shirt by the fistful. The young girl gulped, feeling the blush begin to fleck across her cheeks at the thought. His smile deepened, even as he stepped back and tugged at her hand playfully.
The shoes were thrown over her small feet even as the yawning sunlight stretched across the floorboards to the outside world. The harsh black outline of him broke the butter yellow glow in a perfect silhouette across the lines of his shoulders, his jaw. Something was different today. He was just as orderly, just as impassable as he had always been, and yet…. She stood again, eagerly fiddling with a strand of hair as he gripped her other hand. Early summer wind played within the golden bangs around her face as she stepped over the threshold and into the unknown.
"I really like that on you," he began, interlacing their fingers as they walked. The breeze smelled like lilac and fresh grass, so different from her unmemorable walk home from school. His touch on her fingers felt confidant and strong, nothing like the meek and nervous man he'd been in the park. A shy smile began to spread across her face at how strange it all seemed, like a dream. "It matches your odangos."
Icy fury slapped the growing softness from her face, stopped the girl short. He was laughing at her! Here, she'd been hoping that the otherworldly beginning of this date would be a stark contrast to the other, and instead he was already insulting her!
"Look, no matter how this falls, you really have to stop making fun of my hair!" she fumed, tugging back at his hold. Anger was easier than letting that fury, or worse, the sadness take her, especially when his warm fingers danced across her thumb. She forced herself not to look at him, not to notice how the wind lapped at his shirt, threw shards of night black hair into his eyes. This is how it would always be, her pulled along behind while he dictated every move!
The shadows moved closer on the edge of her vision, the breeze pushing his spicy, inviting scent directly across her face. His fingers slid past her arm, sent butterflies twirling beneath the skin before delving into the soft, curling strands. Her heart boomed against the pathetic wall of her ribs, accented the rage with something equally hot, equally intense. She gulped.
"Don't worry; I consider it a biological imperative to keep it that way," he smirked, pulling her gaze upward. "Seriously, no one just comes up with that nonsense." The words seemed like every other time they fought, but there was no hint of coldness. Intense cobalt eyes seethed openly, filled with longing and amusement and something deeper that seemed to call across the centuries. Heaven help her, but she felt her answer bubbling up like champagne from her chest to her head, filling her without permission.
"So you will?" she asked quietly. His fingers deftly tucked around her head, cradled her closer. A thoughtful look crossed his handsome features, so close now she could see every minute detail of the change. The swirling midnight depths flashed to her twin buns. A teasing finger prodded at them from behind as he shrugged.
"Probably not, but at least it makes sense. I like your hair, and the style is just about as amusing."
She let out a strangled cry as the spell broke, spinning to stalk back into the house. Mamoru watched her go, noting almost absently that his fingers were tingling. It would take some getting used to, but he supposed the necessary time and experimentation could be enjoyable. He couldn't help the disturbed little chuckle that broke free before sprinting after her. The livid blond was trembling when he folded both arms around her, tugging gently away from the front door.
"We're really going to have to work on the flirting, aren't we?" he asked quietly, nuzzling his face into her hair. The warm vanilla scent was quickly becoming a favorite, laced with sunshine and happiness. He breathed deeply, allowing the exhale to waft across her neck and ear. Damn it, she was his; even if she didn't know it yet!
"That was flirting to you?" she guffawed. The girl spun, shivering, half way between rage and curiosity. "Don't even try to tell me all the other times were too!"
He let his arms fall to her waist, loving the curve of her hips perhaps a little too much. Those sapphire eyes were dangerously hard, her mouth a thin line of frustration. Rather than let his fingers do the talking, as he so would have loved to do, he settled one arm around her waist and led her back to the car. An amused grin stamped permanently across his features, though she tried not to look. Furiously, she reminded herself of hating how his fingers seemed to wrap around her hip with just enough pressure.
"Would it count if I told you I thought of you more than any other girl ever?" he asked lazily, face still close to her ear. She couldn't help the suspicious glare as he slid the passenger side door open before awkwardly settling into the seat. The door clicked shut while she nibbled nervously on her lip, twisting the folds of her dress in agitation while the enigma made his way around the vehicle.
"Depends. Was it positive?" she challenged finally, crossing her arms as if he had no effect on her. It was getting too warm, and the crack-frittered fairies dancing through her system were not helping at all. How was she supposed to remain cold and distant when he was just…freaking existing around her! The man should just go away! It was like Endymion, Mamoru and Kamen had all ganged up somewhere along the way to drive her mad.
It was too much temptation.
"We're getting there," he murmured, those same hot eyes burning through her as his seatbelt was fastened. The sudden purr of the engine nearly forced a squeak free as they slid into traffic. It had been so easy before when he was nervous and awkward and perhaps a little pathetic. The slick devil at her side was making it difficult to feel like she was still on the moral high ground, especially because he was finally using those moves on her! Usagi! As if she wasn't just some kid with a crush on him!
"Where are we going?" she asked, feeling distrustful. It had been one thing, the other day, to be picked up by a nervous, awkward boy. There had been no threat, nothing but the anger and resentment of being trailed along like a drowned puppy for months. Even when they'd parked alone in the trees, she knew he wasn't trying to hurt her. Even now, she knew he wouldn't try anything. But this new version of him, all magnetism and charm and practically dripping in sex appeal had her nervous for alternative reasons. Mamoru was a well known playboy, and she had no intention of being just another name on a long list.
"It's a surprise." He smiled boyishly, rattling her previous thought into oblivion.
"Oh."
"So I'm pretty comfortable with the thought process in that head of yours, but how about you tell me about something you like." His question was casual, hardly the same intensity from the gaze that still threatened to force her heart out through her throat. She settled on staring at the car rather than him, it was easier to block out the attraction.
"Anything?" she queried, feeling childish and small in his beast of a vehicle. The shiny black interior slid in languid opulence like a black panther on a gold chain. The lines prowled across the dashboard, the backlit odometer. A nervous gulp itched at her throat; left her feeling, for lack of a better word, tacky. At least this trip she wasn't wearing a home-made shirt.
"I won't even tease you for it."
His tone was all jaded laughter, but a single glance revealed soft eyes, a gentle smile. Chiba Mamoru seemed to be a man of many faces, and she'd only seen a few in their short, hurried encounters. Perhaps it was a bit naïve, but it seemed the cool upperclassman was genuinely interested in getting to know her. Of course, that thought made reason stare. Usagi was probably the least interesting person ever –after all, her hobbies included a side of fries and game tokens.
He'd tried so hard the other day. He'd been nervous, his hands clenching every time she looked at him. Every word from his mouth had been an inquiry, as if he just couldn't figure her out. Too afraid to answer, she'd let them pass overhead. It didn't matter. His interest was only in Moon. As much as it pained her to admit it, but building up her alter ego had had a much bigger effect on her than she realized. Hadn't she broken the bond between them? Perhaps there was more to Usagi than even she knew.
Maybe this new, strange mix of Mamoru was him thinking much the same.
"I really like Manga." The quiet voice betrayed no deeper thoughts, even as he risked a glance from the road. She was turned away again, her sunshine golden hair a subtle contrast to the yellow sundress. The tone warmed her skin from the inside, brought out the child-like beauty of her features touched with color.
"That much was a little obvious. What about it do you like?" he pressed, hoping this time she would offer more than frustration or resentment. There was no hint of his firebrand, his lioness in the shifting, uncomfortable figure. This version of Usagi seemed so small, so terribly out of place despite her new clothing. The thought was ironic, so different from how he hoped it would make her feel.
"The art," she murmured finally, glancing up at him as if to gauge his reaction. He smiled encouragingly, waiting for more from the once-chatterbox. It seemed, even faded in memories, she had always talked more, and louder. It made him wonder what it would take to see her like that again. Her eyes fell away again, as if it was too much to look at him. "I like the way the people look."
"That explains the style of your final," he replied, eyes trained to the road. It wasn't exactly Rembrandt, but her swirling lines, and especially the eyes hinted at the comic books she purportedly loved so much. He couldn't help but smile a little at the thought.
A thrill of awkward guilt swept through her form, made the goosebumps of her flesh stand out in warning. She rubbed at her skin thoughtfully, face scrunched up tight in humiliation. Of all the things he could have seen from that class, he had to choose that stupid picture. It brought back the hours of grumbling; sketching lines only to erase them again. The final had been the headshot of the class, begun late in the evening just a few days ago. She never should have put it off so long, but finding out you were royalty tended to take a chunk out of your homework time. As did passing out in the street, stressing over stupid Mamoru, and breaking some ancient soul bond like a twig.
It had been a busy week.
"Oh...you saw that? 'Toki said he was doing the grading," Usagi muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The leather squeaked with every movement, made the tense space between words seem more daunting.
"Actually it was the nail in the coffin. Without it, I never would have known for sure." her protector noted, tone cool again despite the confession.
"What are you even talking about? It's just a selfie with pencil," she gawked awkwardly, racking her brain for any reason that would be the case.
He grimaced at the word choice, knowing that picture was anything but slang. She must have spent a long time on it; the graphite sketched a ghostly halo around her face that seemed both appropriate and telling. Not that it mattered, but he'd made sure Motoki gave her full marks for it. After all, the assignment had been to show how you saw yourself, wasn't it? As he had seen straight through to the core, he felt it more than exemplified the requirements.
"You'd be surprised how easy it was once I was drunk. Really, this just tells me I should have gotten smashed earlier and gone for a walk." The man grinned wickedly, knowing exactly what that would have caused. The second she'd come barreling into him and end up splashed on the sidewalk with those delicious legs everywhere, it would have been pretty damn easy. After all, only one girl could have a set like that: and she was currently out with him.
She blanched, thoughts traveling the less perverse side of the road. How it really would have ended up was her on her butt once again, staring up at his icy cold face. Even if he'd recognized her, it would have been with disbelief, anger, and perhaps even hostility. That was something she really couldn't handle. Good thing all of this had nothing to do with her.
There was no escaping the past. Sure, Usagi was a kid with a crush, but Serenity was the last viable goddess on the planet capable of pretty much anything once they found the Ginzuisho. The few, confused memories of the Queen using the ill-fated gem were terrifying –and someday she'd be called to do the same. The idea chilled her, spread from her chest deep into the core of things, and lodged over her heart like a scythe.
Someday soon, she would have to face off against the dark queen, she would have to fight the force that even her mother couldn't beat. The only clue they'd had to Beryl's real intentions had been standing at her own deathbed, shaking, while the snake-like woman clawed and raged for her prince. A shudder slithered along her back, cold as ice.
With the power of the mythic stone, knowing Endymion only cared for Serenity, that Tuxedo Kamen and Chiba Mamoru only loved Sailor Moon, would she be able to master that power without twisting like that hag? Would she someday be the same terrible being bent on only one thing- the love of a man who literally couldn't be bothered to see her for who she was? Could Usagi ever be so desperate, so lost?
"You must think I'm only doing this for her," he whispered quietly. She was shivering, coated in thoughts much too dark for such a happy occasion. It didn't take much to read through her, though. Usagi had never been good at hiding her emotions. Even without the benefit of their bond, they were painting the inside of the cabin, coating everything with fear and disgust. Even as her darkened blue orbs shifted upward, the air laced with something hostile and venomous. "Usa…I never told you…"
"What?" she barked, wondering if all of her thoughts were so transparent. Mamoru didn't even know her, not really. Yet, here he was easily picking through her brain as if the programming were right there on the dash. It was infuriating, especially knowing where those imaginings had brought her.
"That night in my apartment, I think I really saw you for the first time." He glanced at her, noting the nervous white teeth nibbling at her lower lip and the fact she was fingering a lock of hair in her lap. She wouldn't turn to look at him, though, too busy staring into the abyss ahead. He turned forward again, afraid of the words that clawed through his mind. "There was so much depth to you. Before, you'd always been this ridiculous…kid. That night I saw who you would be. I wondered who else would see it too."
He remembered staring at her dark, pain-filled eyes with wonder and a bit of sorrow. He remembered how she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, stared resolutely at the floor. The image had been there, in the back of his mind, so sharp and real that even the sound of rainfall on the balcony came back with clarity. He sighed, horrified yet again that his subconscious mind had been on to her from the start, memorizing and drawing in all the parts of her that he had not bothered with. It made him sad, just for a brief moment; that so much time had been wasted in the chase. If he could have just stopped long enough to think, it would have been obvious. It would have been the way things were supposed to be. No fighting, no bickering; just two people meeting and falling into sync like the soul mates they were.
"If Moon had never existed, I think things would have changed for us then," he murmured finally, slowing to stop for a light. The engine purred between words as other shifting forms took their place outside the window. She twisted away from him, mind retracing that night as it had done many times before.
"Funny. The look I saw was definitely a no." The bitter words were accusing, hurt. He turned fully, viewing the crossed arms and flushed face.
"Would you rather I be unfaithful?" he offered. The golden blond hair shimmered in the sunlight as she shifted. The resulting silence spread thickly across each of them until a soft horn blared from the outside world, reminded him of traffic.
Her shoulders fell finally as the weight of the car pulled them forward. He made a good point, yet again. How would she have felt if he'd gone for someone else without thinking? But it wasn't like he cared about Usagi at all! That was what really bothered her! It wasn't like he'd bothered to look!
Even as the angered thoughts rose to the forefront, though, she wondered back at how easily it had been to choose between Tuxedo Kamen and Mamoru. Right from the beginning, she'd eyed his superhero form with no small amount of desire. Even then, as her handsome tormentor became the impenetrable wall of her existence, the dark savior had faded to the background, never really thought of so long as she wasn't in danger. She would have traded every encounter with the cheesy, rose throwing savior for one kind look from the beast.
Now here she was, riding in his car, his blue eyes no longer frozen. And he was telling her, no, begging her to open up. Not just that, but the gushy romantic hero was coming through the charm, so sincere and concerned and sweet that it made her chest ache all over again! And it wasn't fair! He wanted to stay with her, he wanted to be there for her, and all she could complain about was that he wouldn't cheat on her with herself!
"No," she whispered suddenly, realizing all that he meant by it. Oh gods, she wanted to cry all the sudden. He couldn't actually make that kind of promise after one date, could he? Was she reading him wrong? Was she allowing her stupid, schoolgirl brain to fill in the blanks that weren't there? This wasn't a fairytale! She was almost seventeen and way too young to be thinking like this!
"I thought, right then, that you would be so beautiful all grown up." His dark eyes grew soft and warm, even facing the road she could feel the sweetness lacing every word. For one blinding moment, the heartache and pain and fear that had plagued her vanished beneath that tone. All traces of mocking cynicism and guardedness had fled.
He had seen her. All this time, she had felt so broken because he didn't recognize what was so blatantly in front of him, but some part of him had. She drew a deeper breath, trying to remain calm as he spoke. It was too much to ask. Dazedly, she wondered if somehow this were a dream that would come crashing down the moment he stopped speaking. His voice was so warm, like sunlight in July, like Endymion's had been that night in her room so long ago. The shared feeling bled through a look, each side willing the other to take the conversation deeper.
"I was thinking about how much you reminded me of Moon." The smirk returned, and with it, the rising burn in her chest. The sweet, emotional moment they'd shared shattered, but not without leaving a gentle mark behind.
"You're kidding," she gave flatly, crossing her arms.
"I told you I was an idiot," he replied, turning that sinful mouth upward in amusement. "What's funnier, I was thinking about what a great princess you would be. Should have put money on it." Her jaw dropped at the confession, feeling a little foolish for jumping to conclusions earlier. Maybe she hadn't quite thought this all the way through yet. After all, if he could admit to something that personal and self-incriminating, perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. It didn't stop the irritation from boiling through her thoughts, though
"And now you knew it all along. Seriously, Chiba? You're going to play that game?" she screeched in agitation, though it was hard not to be a little amused. Mamoru, open and honest, was proving to be a bit of a handful.
"Never said that." The grin grew lazy, the eyes sharpening as they flicked between the road and her.
"You just did! I can't believe you!" she balked.
"Are you intentionally misinterpreting?" he asked silkily, throwing out the slick smile as if to challenge her. The spitfire retaliated.
"But you just said!"
"I said I thought you were beautiful. Want to fight about that?" he interrupted quickly, lacing his words with steely sweetness. She blanched, feeling the wind suddenly sucked out from behind her. The thoughts in her brain swirled in confusion for a second, not realizing what he'd meant by it.
"…no."
It left them both quiet again, lost in a funk. The constant teeter-totter of their relationship was driving her slowly mad. First, he goes and gets all squishy on her and then he's calling her beautiful? And to top it off, they were fighting again! A frustrated puff of air fingered her bangs as she settled back into her seat without another word. This was going to be complicated. This whole mess was probably complicated before the date had ever started, probably before the adventure began last summer.
Houses had given way to highway, which had quickly melted into downtown. The high-rise buildings grew fancier, more artistic as they drove. Considering their last date had literally been in the middle of nowhere, it was actually comforting to think there would be distractions this time.
This was so natural. Even the other date had been confusing and unfocused, but in that shared instant, it had felt like their souls had touched. It had been brief, something that sent a spear of nervousness between his shoulder blades. He risked a silent glance her way, wondering if she felt it too.
It was strange to share such deep, personal things. It had always been a burden, one he was normally unwilling to have with another person. His confession had shocked even him, that such a thought had passed his mouth seemed otherworldly. He retraced the quiet, contemplative face she'd offered in the midst of it all, and couldn't help but wonder how much things really had changed.
The blond nervously slid white teeth across her lower lip, staring resolutely forward as if to avoid him. It was inevitable. He grimaced at the thought, wondering where the teasing hope of earlier thoughts had gone to. A steady breath drew his lungs taut before releasing. It would take some time, but there was plenty of that to go around.
"Look, this whole enslavement for eternity thing is really going to be rough on both of us." The thought shattered their mutual silence, sent heaven blue eyes wandering his way.
"Yeah." She nodded, still a little lost. The clouded depths seemed confused, maybe a little hurt.
"And I'm probably going to be a bastard most of the time when we first meet. It won't mean much, but I'm sorry in advance." They slid to a stop again, giving him ample time to look at his date. A nervous, almost guilty smile lit the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah, I figured." She shifted in her seat again, trying not to look at him. It was hard, because he was being so honest and forward. It was hard because what he'd done really was unfair and she really should still hate him for it. Mostly, it was hard because even that fire was slowly cooling as they spoke. It didn't change the past, but it did make it obvious their future wouldn't exactly be a repeat of bad decisions and mistrust. His warm hand closed over hers, his thumb caressing her arm gently. It called her back from the window, blinking as their eyes met again.
"I want you to know that you have taught me a lot in the past year. It might not seem like it right now, but you've changed me for the better." Despite reservations and nervousness, his warm stroke was soothing. She felt the slip of muscles, watched as his fingers slid along her forearm and laced with hers as if mesmerized by the action. His touch was soft and familiar, as if their lives had always been this way.
It was beautiful, the way their fingers fit together, the way they fit. His aristocratic hands were long and slender, like hers. It was strange to think that those same hands could blow up Youma, wield a huge sword, and throw steel tipped roses. They were as multifaceted as their owner, and yes, it was entrancing to watch them slide across her hands, rest within her own fingers as if they could never hurt anyone. Clouded blue eyes blinked.
"Well, this is our second date. Which is odd, since technically we're married. Before we started dating. This is going to give me a headache." The girl tingled, felt the raw energy pulsing between their dual grip. She scratched between the odangos in confusion and perhaps a little arousal. A low rumble chuckled from his chest, filled the cabin with honey colored warmth.
"Are we gauging this on the previous marriage? If so, I greatly over-planned this. We could have just gone to my place and, you know…"
"Ma-Mamoru-san!" she screamed, scandalized and blushing to her toes. Her arm tugged away on reflex, and he instantly released his hold.
"Kidding!" The wolfish, hungry turn of his eyes spoke otherwise. She gulped, feeling a bit like a sheep trapped in his car. He was so close and the spicy sent of his cologne sizzled the air. Yet even as her fingers twisted together, even as they turned into a large parking lot, she missed that warm, tingling sensation. "Anyway, I figure it's my turn to teach you something in return."
It took a moment for his words to break through the haze even as they slid into a parking stall. Anxiety buzzed in her fingertips in tangible static and she found her thoughts drifting dangerously close to the volcanic past. This date was definitely a bad idea.
"Should I be terrified?" she whispered. The looming building had never been so intimidating with her friends. Of course, in retrospect she'd never felt like any of the Senshi were a tiger on a leash like the grinning man next to her. His mouth was positively evil, though his eyes conveyed a certain boyish charm.
"Only if you hate shopping. Lesson one: you are a knockout." Those dark, hungry eyes flicked across her while she blushed.
"Um…don't guys hate shopping?" she muttered finally, absolutely sure that particular fact had been brought up multiple times with classmates.
"I was a model, remember? Who do you think picked out that dress?"
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…..
OhmGEE, we're getting so close! Ok, so for sure, one more chapter and an epilogue, AND THAT'S FINAL! Sheesh, it's like…like I'm a writer or something…
Got my first flame a few weeks ago. Guess I can't complain too much, since I've been posting on and off for about 10 years. Still, there's just that part of your soul that goes 'What did I do to YOU?' and makes you sad.
Then you realize, yet again, that you're a self-actualized individual and you just don't care what anyone else thinks. Except my excellent reviewers, I care all about what you think ;) Yes, that's you, Rakusa, Bin, Silver Star Argenteum, angeljme, maryyork, championofjustice27, smfan4ever72, and el extrano enmascarado (who seriously gave me the most *beautifully* written review I have ever had the pleasure to receive) and many MANY countless others who I've read and re-read to remind me exactly WHY I have to finish this. Thank you! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I can't say it enough!
So here's what we're looking at. Original novels take a TON of time and effort, obviously, and since it's going to be a long time before mine's done, I'll still be posting. I have 2 new stories coming out this summer for your viewing and reviewing pleasure. Don't worry, they won't be nearly as poetic as SoulBound, promise! I realized somewhere along the line that I wanted a full portfolio, and since there was adventure, romance, comedy and angst, we really needed some different things to work on. I'm even doing fluff, heaven help me. I also realized that I needed more styles, so I'm leaning toward the super direct language.
Also, maybe I woke up the other day with the complete plot for Out of Place 2 handed to me on a silver platter, which I immediately wrote down and saved to my flash drive, which I immediately broke. Sheesh.
The good news is, I still remember quite a bit of it, but since things are moving so slow in the fanfiction world, what would be the consensus? Should I finally finish the thing? It's not like I left it at an inopportune time…
Also have some pretty hilarious drabbles with drunk Mamoru. Be on the lookout for those next week.
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Super love shout-outs to my editors, the baby sis and slightlyxjaded, who basically rock my socks off! Dablackrose got grounded this week for NEVER sending in her edits. It's like she thinks she can have a life outside of me or something…