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Chapter Two: One Day of Serenity
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Chiba Mamoru could pinpoint the exact time that his ill will toward Tsukino Usagi started. It was the time when he first met her. It was hate at first sight. There was good reason for the hate, too.
When he was six years old, he had lost his memories due to a fatal car crash. It would have been okay, except that the accident also took his parents, leaving him alone and confused. His mind had been a complete blank. Even how he was supposed to feel was wiped clean. He couldn't cry, couldn't even begin to process how to glue together a life that never really existed.
For the six years old, the perspective was terrifying.
The first day, he had been afraid to sleep. Young Mamoru had felt a great fear of the void that will swallow him in his slumber.
The news of his parents' death, the idea that he was an orphan without any relatives willing to take him had left him uncaring. However the idea that he was incapable of finding something to care for left him trembling. Soon the tears came and he couldn't seem to stop it.
His body shook from crying. He wanted to be brave but it was an up hill battle. He was so filled with self-pity he did not sense the soft patter of feet from a young girl as she came towards him.
It had been a short encounter. She had left promptly when she was called by her father. But short as it was, it had been filled with everything good in Mamoru's empty life. She had left him with a memory of his first embrace. And a kiss that was placed without conscious thought on his right cheek, breaths away from his lips.
But most important, she left him with a promise that she would always care for him no matter what. To solidify this vow, she had left him a red rose. The reddest, most beautiful rose that he ever knew existed.
That same night, he began to dream of a beautiful girl with long gold hair. She was older than the one that had left him his rose, but he felt certain that they were the same person. He had been listening to the bed times stories read by workers in the orphanage and had thought that he was dreaming about Rapunzel, because her long golden hair was the perfect description of the fairytale princess. When he mentioned it to the girl in his dreams, she had laughed softly, sweetly, and murmured how delightful it was, to see him as a child.
Suddenly, his loss, his being an orphan didn't seem that big of a deal anymore. Because he had someone now, and from her came the feeling of intense and uncompromising love.
For him and only him.
Every night, with out fail, she came to him in his dreams. That he talked to her and related stories of how his 'awake' life went did not seem strange to him at all. His only frustration was that she was always in the shadows. He couldn't see her face, but he knew that she was the most beautiful, enchanting woman he would ever lay his eyes on. And, that she was the same girl who had given him his first rose. This was the most important part about the girl. She was the one who gave him his rose.
A rose that never wilted, nor lose its perfect form.
He kept the rose in his person, always. No one was allowed to ever see it. It was always tucked inside his waistband, or inside the inner pockets of his jacket. Even when he had crushed it in his sleep, the rose kept its eternal bloom, not one petal loose.
The one time it was spotted and taken from him had scared the reason and calm out of Mamoru. The bullies, angered by Mamoru's defiance had stomped on it and called him names. But the young boy had felt only hot boiling anger toward his enemies. Within seconds all four bullies were down on the ground, two of them with a broken nose and the leader's arm broken at an awkward angle. Only the presence of a social worker had stopped Mamoru from killing the fourth one, the boy that had stomped on Mamoru's rose.
His one act of violence had led to one foster home after another. Some were more abusive than most. The other children inside the orphanage had heard of his going berserk and were in fear of him; no matter he had always been the quiet child. It was decided that he leave and find a normal home where he would be better supervised. It was anything but normal.
He didn't care. After being reprimanded of his action, he had fled to the scene where the attack had happened and had felt relieved when he saw his rose lying on the ground. It was broken, and the petals were a red mush, but it was his rose and he wanted it.
At his touch, the rose begun to glow a golden light and a soft beam, silvery in color surrounded it. In mere seconds, the rose restored itself to its glorious perfection.
When he was finally able to get his inheritance, his first act of luxury was when he bought the most expensive, most beautiful, crystal vase to house the rose. It was placed gently, on his nightstand where every night he gazed at it as he drifted to sleep and dreamed of his princess. And when he woke up, it was the first thing he saw.
For thirteen years, the rose, and his carefree and now becoming flirtatious conversation with his dream girl continued. It was his private paradise, exclusive only to him. No one was to guess that the somber, brooding upperclassman had in his possession the most exquisite form of magic in existence.
Then one day, a restless feeling overtook him. Agitated he had put on a green jacket (all his other coat was in the laundry bin) and decided to stroll around to relieved him of the extra energy. Before he left, he backtracked to his room and, for the first time since it was placed on its crystal pedestal, he took the rose with him. Mamoru had hoped the presence of the flower would soothe the restlessness within him.
He walked for hours, occasionally taking the rose out from his inside pocket to smell its heady fragrance. He was so intent on guessing why he was so jumpy that he was surprised enough to drop his precious rose as a wad of paper hit his head.
Bemused, his mind occupied with the paper, he shortly, oddly enough, forgot that the red rose was now lying on the sidewalk, vulnerable to busy feet. With a loud chuckle he eyed the test paper that had a large 30 circled in a very red marker. In minutes, he heard an indignant huff and turned his attention to the tapping feet in front of him.
What he saw stopped him cold. His rose lay crushed underneath a black shoe, its red petals seeming to wilt from the pressure it had to carry. His midnight-blue eyes promising murder, he locked eyes on the girl in front of him, ready to forget manners and shout at the girl to step away from his precious flower.
Crystal blue eyes dancing with irritation stared back at him defiantly. In a barely controlled voice, the girl demanded the return of her paper, and how dared he laugh at something that did not involve him in any way.
He controlled his anger. It was obvious to Mamoru that the girl had no idea that there was a rose between her left foot and the concrete sidewalk. He nursed his aching heart with the thought that the rose would return to normal once his hands touched it. So instead of going hell bent, he decided to irritate the girl in front of him instead. Just to extract payment for momentarily destroying his flower.
"Eh, Odango-Atama, I'm surprise you'd want to keep this. It's an embarrassment. If I were you, I'd burn it and lock myself in shame."
The girl shrieked loudly and with a louder curse swiped the offending paper from his hand. She blew a raspberry at him and promptly left. Glancing back once, she gave him a murderous stare.
Mamoru waited for the girl to turn a corner. It would not do for her to witness the regeneration of his rose. The moment she was out of sight Mamoru's hand reached for the flower, his being tingling in anticipation of seeing the gold and silver light.
It never came.
Incredulous, he stared at the rose as if it had failed him. Within seconds, it begun to turn brown, and then, it turned to dust. Confused, he looked down, expecting to see another rose on the sidewalk. Maybe he had picked up a random weed, and his rose was still lying on the ground waiting for rescue. There was no rose. Either on the hot sidewalk, nor in his clenching hands.
He ignored the pain. That night, he prompted sleep to come soon, his mind hoping to clear things up with his princess. She would know what happened. Maybe, just maybe, she might even give him another rose, though the idea of replacing what he had lost left a bad taste in his mouth.
That night, his princess did not talk to him. He found her in the shadows, like all the times he had seen her, but there was something wrong. She was not laughing, nor dancing about. She stood still on a balcony, her body shaking with fear, and sadness, her slender hands clasped together to keep from trembling. She was the one needing comfort now, not him.
Even before he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, the princess's silvery voice reached him…
"Find the Silver Crystal, my prince, and all will be revealed…"
Mamoru stood still. Silver Crystal? He tried to remember if there was such a thing in the books he had read. "Princess, I don't understand? What is the Silver Crystal?"
The golden girl before him took a ragged breath. Pain emitted from her delicate form. "The crystal has your memories…Please, seek it for me. I will cease with out it…"
He was about to ask for more detail, to demand what is happening, when he was roused from sleep, the vision of the princess disappearing rapidly, her tears joining the oblivion that was swallowing her whole.
That night was the first of many nights. The dream never changed. Every night, he had to endure the sight of the woman he loved slowly crumbling on the weight of her grief. There was no more laughter. No more light conversations, no more flirting with the girl that had been constant in his life. The shadows that used to be a comforting cloak around them had taken an ominous feel. More and more it seemed to threaten to swallow the girl in the balcony with its inky darkness.
Mamoru knew why this was so. The rose was the key. The rose was the portal that opened him to a brief moment of happiness. The magical rose crushed and destroyed by the feet of a blonde twit, Tsukino Usagi.
As he lived and breathe, he would hate Usagi for the rest of his life, because she took his one shining hope.
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'What the hell!' Usagi tried to collect her thoughts as she tried to still the beating of her heart at the same time.
No such luck. With her body turning into mush, she opted instead to wrap her arms around the hard frame in front of her to support her jellied legs. His chest was broad, deep. His stomach was flat, his hips – as far as she could estimate- was slim. She could not feel a single once of fat, and believe honestly that the handsome and noble form of the man was all corded with muscles.
Her nose caught a whiff of roses. It seemed to come from somewhere inside the green jacket that the man was wearing. It mingled with other scents from him. There where hints of leather, coffee, and moonlit smelling air, forming an excitingly male scent, which added to his mystery.
'Odd. I never knew men had roses scented cologne…' she thought idly. Unconsciously, she sniffed her way, trying to locate the exact spot where the scent was coming from.
Mamoru scowled as he felt electricity coursed through him when Usagi's arms locked unto him. He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating. That smile she gave him had been disarming. Whatever tactic she had taken today as her fight plan was off to a good start; Usagi- 1, Mamoru-0. He shook his head a little to clear it. He always won their daily bouts. And he will be damned if he let Usagi know how much that smile had driven him to, well, a tangled knot of warm feelings.
His thoughts were snapped back to reality when he felt her burrowing deeper in the folds of his green jacket. It had become his favorite, for one reason unknown to those who insisted of its hideousness. Inside the pocket of the coat, a scent of his lost rose seemed to be perpetually present. No matter how many times he washed it, or how sweaty it get, the soft scent of that rose lingered on. It was as if the rose, realizing that it was the last time it was going to be held by its owner had imprinted its scent inside the coat where it was last kept, to give Mamoru a small parting gift. Because of this, not even the possible end of the world would ever part Mamoru from the green jacket. It was all he had to remind him of his happy times.
With a darkening scowl, he yanked one of the Odango Atama's pigtails. His fingers suddenly felt powerless as it sifted the silky feel of the girl's hair. 'What the hell is happening to me?!', he thought groggily.
Mamoru had long ago stopped hating her. Somewhere between their fifth encounter, he had silently forgiven her the loss of his rose. Not that he had forgotten, but he was magnanimous in sharing the blame. He should not have been holding it out in the street that day, anyway. He ignored constantly that nagging voice that asked him if maybe there was more to the reason why he stopped hating his sparring partner. 'That maybe, you never really could hate her at all…'
No matter what a handful Usagi was, she was too much an incarnation of sunshine for anyone, even him, to hold a grudge. It wasn't his fault that before he had long forgiven her, he found out he actually liked irritating the blonde. Something about hearing her wail her indignation at his treatment of her persona always managed to stabilize his fast warping world.
And what a warped world it really was turning out to be. The loss of the rose, his princess's despairs, then, unexpectedly, another complication to his fast jumbled emotional state was Sailor Moon. That was as much a shock as having a magical rose. In his mind, he roughly admitted that it was a good exchange.. And, of course, his becoming Tuxedo Mask.
So, with those plus points, he figured Usagi could be forgiven the grievances she had caused. And he could always annoy her, whenever he felt stressed out. Sort of like having a walking, answering back, stress releaser. He never felt too guilty when he makes her wail. Forgiven she maybe, but it was still her tapping feet that had turned his rose into a mush.
It didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes. But torture and penalty of death would never, ever, make him admit to anyone he found Usagi as attractive. 'Attractive, my ass. She could give any beauty queen a run for their money, or crown, or what not.' Mamoru chose to ignore this voice, too
"Good grief," Mamoru groaned, as he felt Usagi's warm breath mingled with his body heat, her head now stuffed inside his green jacket. He studiously ignored Rei's indignant yell, and the excited murmuring going around the arcade. Motoki had informed him months ago that the management of the arcade had decided to hold an entrance fee when three o'clock came around. When he had bluntly asked what was that suppose to mean, the arcade manager (who compromise the one and only arcade management), had cheerfully informed him that people were starting to get interested on the development of Chiba-san, and Tsukino-san. He even showed a box filled with cash and had asked for company; Motoki wanted the money safely in the bank.
"Like a nest egg of some sort," the bastard that was his former best friend cheekily informed him.
The only reason that Motoki was still alive after that was because he had hastily extended management's generosity toward its star in the form of lifetime supply of black coffee. And the threat that if Mamoru so much as lay one finger on management, then he, Chiba Mamoru, would never be allowed inside the arcade again. Since it was Usagi's afternoon hangout, Mamoru had decided to relent. He was a man of routine, and 3:00 p.m had long been acknowledged as the start of round two of his and the blonde's daily war.
His musing was cut short when he heard Motoki's excited voice. The towheaded man was busy talking to himself, an avarice expression on his smiling face. "Oohhh, I wander if I can raise the entrance fee five dollars up, once word of this gets around?" There was a definite drool on his best friends face.
That did it!
Bellowing at the top of his voice, Mamoru collected himself and grasp the cause of all his turmoil on her slender shoulder. His grip was hard, but he was past caring. The idiot better have a good explanation why she was sniffing his body underneath his jacket. That and causing him a mild case of heart attack. Palpitations were getting common whenever Usagi was near. 'Not that the ditz need to know that…'
"ODANGO! What the heck is wrong with you?"
Usagi snapped out of her rose perfumed daydream. It had been surprisingly comfortable having her head and half her body (she was that small) engulfed inside that horrible green jacket. Her hands, which used to be around the dark haired man, had slowly crept around until it was flushed on his chest. She had been about to lift the offending material that was his shirt so that she could lay her cheek against naked flesh when her shoulder started singing in pain. 'Goddess of Alune, why is it my body parts sing when in pain?' her fumbled brain asked herself bemusedly.
'Eeeek! How could you? I said a good impression. What were you doing!?!'
'Geez, hey, what happened to your high bred talk?'
'I AM YOU! How could you do this to us? What do you think he thinks about us now? He probably imagines us to be some sort of depraved, little twit!'
'Hey! I resent that. You're supposed to be genteel!'
'You are supposed to be genteel! We had an agreement! You were…you allowed me to let us be!'
'So what are you screaming at me for? I'm on autopilot, right? This means, it was you who was sniffing in places you shouldn't have been putting your nose in to!'
'EEEEK! This is a catastrophe! And he is looking at us with murder in his eyes!'
Usagi peered beneath absurdly long lashes. The man before her really was incredibly mad for some reason. 'Eh, what did I do to get that look?'
Coughing slightly, the blonde took a step back. "Ooops…"
Mamoru wanted to shake her. "Ooops!? Ooops? What sort of answer is that? What were you doing inside my coat?" Each word was punctuated with his fingers digging deeper and deeper on Usagis' shoulder.
A part of him calmly reminded him that the girl was visibly wincing from the pain, and that she was bound to get a very nasty bruise. In fact, very nasty BRUISES. He almost let go, until another voice informed him, gleefully, that it would be a good idea to kill the girl, because that way, he only get a head ache by having only two love of his life.
'Less complicated, although how less complicated loving a heroine and a dream princess at the same time could get, is beyond me. So maybe, it would be wisest to let Usako live, let a youma kill Sailor Moon, then, stop sleeping all together. Then hook up with Usako, because of the three, I honestly believe USAKO is the least complicated possible girlfriend scenario.' the voice in Mamoru said with a smug tone. Two tones converged briefly, one had a voice belonging to a six years old Mamoru, the other one the dark, mysterious voice of Tuxedo Mask. They were unhappy with the decision of the third voice but cannot find fault with the whole idea.
The tall man let go of his quarry so fast she stumbled backwards. He watched, amazed, as the usually klutzy junior high student was able to find a hold on a corner table. This, too, was evidence of the madness that was fast becoming his day. Usagi ALWAYS fell down flat. His two hands gripped both sides of his head and almost stated yanking out his raven hair in clumps. First thing first, though. Usagi's sudden gracefulness was only his secondary concern. Something more important must be cleared first.
"For the last time, I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH USAKO!" Mamoru shouted to that irritating voice within him. It took precisely three seconds and a half for his addled brain to fully registered that not only has his three inner voices heard that loud and clear, but the whole arcade, and the people outside the arcade, had heard him as well.
Another ten seconds of utter quiet. It was Rei, slumped in her seat, who whispered the next damning words. "Ie, demo, uh… Did Mamoru-chan just say Usako…?"
Motoki was in heaven. "Sugoi! A hundred! Good god in the highest heavens above, I can raise the entrance fee for a hundred," his awed whisper broke through the thickening silence.
Usagi for her part had broken in sweat. Something tugged in her mind, but she was too busy trying not to understand what she heard to give it further thought. Her blue eyes locked with the stormy blue of the stranger before her and she felt pity toward the handsome man.
He was clearly in pain, both physically and mentally, AND emotionally. Whatever aloofness he possessed had vanished and all that stood before her was a wreck. A handsome, well-muscled, black-haired wreck of a man, who looked like he was about to commit murder. His or hers was a matter now currently being discussed.
Usagi tried to stand a little straighter as his icy eyes pinned her on the spot. Something was trying to click in her mind. Important things that may, or may not, clear a lot the complicated web that she had now, apparently, created.
'What now, genius?'
'I am tempted to end our miserable life right now, so please refrain your sarcasm and be nice.'
'Fat chance. You are not that powerful yet. And I seriously doubt you can force me to moon dust myself with my OWN tiara. And despite your thou and thines, you are not a Sailor Warrior, so unless talking to me like a prissy sissy get to kill me, ha!'
'I can sweetly drown you after flying to a very tall cliff, then, leap to very dark and turbulent waters if I wanted. YOU do not have wings yet, after all.'
'WINGS? Oh, shoot, I forgot about those…Hey! WE GET TO HAVE WINGS?''
'Will you be quiet? It is not important now. I cannot think straight. Something is seriously amiss. Were you EVER at war with this man?'
'How the heck would I know? You made me forget. Oh, wait, no way! TEE-HEE, hehehehe….'
'Please tell me why you laugh so…'
'I DO remember him. Geez, this is too good to pass up. Can I come back now?'
'No! You promised that I could be the one to shine today. I have until midnight. Do not dare go back on your words.'
'But, Mamoru-Baka is seriously at a disadvantage. Not being able to use this new development is causing me, causing us, physical pain! Can't you just take over tomorrow?'
'Pardon, but did you say he calls by the name of Mamoru? Is that his name? Something, hmnnn…I think he should be named differently, hmnnn…'
'You are so right. Baka suits him much better. Bakaro even.'
'Do not be like that. It is unbecoming. And he is not a Baka.'
'Like hell! And we are way off course from our previous topic. Look, you don't know this jerk wad like I do. Let me handle him. You're too stressed now. You're sounding a little like me more than the uppity lady that you were before. But, I totally forgive you. The Baka, sort of, brings out the worst in us. I should know. This idiot and me had been working on the beginnings of world war three for months now.'
'No! I forbid hearing another argument from you. In fact, it will be to our convenience if you simply fainted right here, right now!'
'WHAT!?!'
'You heard me. We must faint. It is for the common good. More ever, it will give us sufficient time to turn the events to our benefit. And to gather myself, because as you have pointed out, you are starting to take over again. Mamoru-kun seemed to have affected that change…I want to know why. So kindly faint now!'
And with that Usagi fainted, her slight form swayed in a graceful swoon toward Mamoru…