AN: Thanks, Lavvy, for editing these drabbles.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor moon.

Gift.

"Yes, dear, but I must have told you fifty times yesterday morning to pick up a few things for me."

Usagi sat clad in a heart adorned sweater and skirt, shaking her head furiously. That morning, she had come down promptly at ten o'clock –which was as unusual for Usagi on a Sunday as rain was for winter Tokyo, but with the way things were working out, she didn't see that she had much choice—sat right down in front of astonished parents, and said quite plainly:

"You did not ask me to pick up anything yesterday at any hour of any second of any..." she scrunched her brow, "thing."

She would have said it quite plainly when she came home yesterday, and would have had a whole lot more to say, if her father had the decency to be home. One of the busiest holidays of the year for advertising agencies, her mother reminded her.

But that, Usagi bristled, was beside the point.

So, she continued to shake her head, insisting to no such thing. Unto which her father rolled his eyes, turned to the economy section of the newspaper, and replied with an affirmative, "Yes, I did."

With the way games had been for many centuries, and would be for many more centuries, this particular contest could have gone on for hours and, perhaps, forever. Yet, logic had a habit of making a move to prevent this and, in the form of the quiet Ikuko, it made the move with a simple, "no, honey, you didn't," and left it at just that.

Instead of sputtering in absolute masculine denial, Kenji glanced up at his wife, adjusted the frames of his glasses and said, "didn't I?"

A smile twitched at the corner of Ikuko's mouth. "You know how Usagi is before school. When would you have a moment?"

He seemed to ponder on that. Licking his thumb, then turning a page, he tilted his head in thought, then glanced over at the decorated box and bundle of roses. "Well," he replied with a sunny smile, "it all seemed to have panned out in the end."

"Yes, dear." Ikuko leaned back in her rocking chair, knitting quietly.

Kenji faltered. "How did it happen to pan out, Usagi?"

"She was in the area—"

"And it rained." Usagi finished, her bottom lip poking out in remembrance.

"Rained, you say?" Kenji frowned, puzzled. "In February?"

"Yes, well," Ikuko brushed her violet hair over her shoulder, sighing at the split ends. "We do tend to get all kinds of weather here." She glanced out the window, watched the way the cold light of the sun beamed into the living room. "It was rather warm out yesterday."

Kenji nodded, "that's what I call coincidence."

Someone in the blonde bunny's position might have come up with an entirely different word for it, but, being the blonde bunny that she was, Usagi only muttered incoherently below her breath while playing with the pink bow attached to her lace socks.

"However," her mother continued, "there is a bit of a chill in the air, Usagi, so remember to take a jacket with you today when you go to the dry-cleaners." Ikuko pulled at the ball of yarn for more string. "It's such a shame that your friends' jacket had to be soaked."

A roll of the eyes. "I think he'll survive." And be better for it.

"Yes, well," she cleared her throat, "I have the address of the cleaners written down right here. Azabu," she gave a thoughtful smile to her husband. "That's not terribly far away, is it?"

"Hm? Azabu?" Distracted, he glanced over at his wife. His eyes cleared when he looked over at his daughter, a smile lingering on his lips. "Not at all. You're going to Azabu?"

"Yes, to drop off a coat at the dry-cleaners."

"Oh brilliant!" he grinned, launching out of his chair. "We can kill two birds with one stone."

"Killing birds—?"

"It's an expression, Usagi. Now," he reached for a small, rectangular parcel along with an address scribbled mercilessly on thick paper. "This is the apartment that it's to be delivered to. A block, I believe, from where you'll be headed. Don't lose it," he added.

A delivery girl on Valentines Day, her shoulders drooped, disheartened. When Usagi reached for the package, she couldn't help but feel a stinging twinge at her heart at the thought of all the packets Mamoru was probably receiving at that moment. Or the one gift he was currently delivering himself. Her bottom lip poked out once more.

The package, nonetheless, wasn't as thick as it looked, and so suddenly she had this desperate desire to shake it to her ear like a present on Christmas. "What is it?"

"Probably chocolates. Kacho*, Sato-san, usually sends a number of Valentines Day gifts to the men she…" he flushed, trailing off, ending with a cough and a, "admirers."

Usagi looked curiously at her father's reddened face as her mother came up behind Usagi, holding the damp jacket. Ikuko raised her brow. "Usually sends them by Federal Express, doesn't she, dear?"

He really had to clear this block in his throat, the way his daughter and wife were watching him. "Yeah, that is," he grunted once more, "yes, she usually does. However, she told me she wanted this one delivered less professionally. It was a rather cryptic note…" He mumbled.

Ikuko made a non-suggestive hum in her throat. A twin, non-indicative smirk loitered on her logical face as she handed the jacket to Usagi, along with the bundle of roses and jewellery. "Take care, honey. We wouldn't want to ruin the gift for Sato-san's…" She side-glanced to her spouse. "…Admirer."

If a note was cryptic, Usagi thought while she inched her way from the enigmatic atmosphere, her parents went well beyond obscure.

That of which really said nothing about the expressions upon the poor dry-cleaning employee's faces when Usagi handed them Mamoru's jacket, its tweed horribly saddened and its silken lining probably lost to the world forever.

"This silk lining," one woman said, her grey hair curling itself around her accusing eyes, "is probably lost to the world forever."

You don't say… "Could you try to clean it up some?" Usagi asked. "It really isn't as bad as it seems." She thought. Maybe.

The second lady herself didn't look at all optimistic, but took the coat anyway. "What in heaven's name did you do?"

"Me? I didn't do anything—"

"Didn't you?" Her expression was doubtful. "How did it get to be in this condition?"

"Well," Usagi toed the floor. Her hands linked behind her. "I was just walking, you see. At first I was looking for a book on the ground, but I didn't find it and the jacket didn't get dirty then. Anyways, I was walking and then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, it started to rain—"

"Rain?" The first woman asked in surprise. "Rain in—"

"Yes, February. It rained in February." Lord, she was beginning to sound insane even to her own ears. Usagi, girl, she rubbed at her eyes with her liberated hand, you're losin' it.

Perhaps that was just the thought going through the women's minds, so skeptical were their looks. In any case, the fact still remained that the jacket had been drenched at one point, now retained a soiled look to it, and, somehow, somewhere, it had gotten to be that way.

"Let's just say that somehow, somewhere, it had gotten to be this way. We'll see what we can do with it." The second woman smiled encouragingly, patting Usagi on the shoulder, before hooking the green tweed to a mobile shaft.

Usagi leaned her elbows on the counter. "I really do hope you can save it, somehow. It isn't the most handsome coat in the world," –quite the opposite of its proprietor— "but it is quite cherished by the owner, and he entrusted it to me." Her teeth nibbled worriedly on her lower lip as she watched the coat spin away from her.

"Boyfriend?" The lady in grey hair brushed at a curl, and Usagi wondered enviously if it was natural.

"Oh –haha." There was that twang again. "No. Just a…" Crush. Desire. Wish. Craving. "Friend."

"I see." Something in her eyes told Usagi that she really did see. "Well, today is a day for miracles, isn't it? And the ones concerning the heart are the most important. Here you go," she handed Usagi a ticket before Usagi could ponder on whether they were still speaking of the coat or something –rather, someone—else all together.

Upon the ticket read the words CUE. Puzzled, Usagi glanced up. The lady smiled. "You just hand that back to whomever when the jacket is returned to you." Then, she held up a hand before Usagi could turn to leave. "Because it's Valentines Day, the store has a policy of giving Sweetarts to the patrons. They seem to enjoy it," she said with a shrug.

While Usagi had always set love at the top of her list of Absolute Must Haves, candy was a close second, and this kind in particular seemed to brighten her day just a bit. When she unwrapped the binding of the candy, however, the expected 'Be Mine' message was not present on the heart-shaped sweet. Instead, the words 'Chance You a Lead' sat there, nearly glimmering in the place of sunlight.

"Well, how lucky!" The cloudy-haired cashier beamed. "This must be a blessed day for you. I wasn't aware that we actually had any of these this year."

Usagi wondered if it would taste any different. "What is it?"

"Well, it's a candy," she explained. "Mostly a candy. But it also acts as a voucher so that your dry-cleaning will be finished before the others. That's what it means by Lead, you see. Among other things." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Blessed by gypsies, y'know."

Usagi's eyes went wide, her mouth rounded with amazement. By gypsies? You didn't see gypsies around anymore, and after Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, the astonished girl had no doubt that they were miraculous to the core. "Really?"

"Really. It isn't supposed to enhance chances so much as… speed things along. So this here candy might chance you a lead in an area of your life." She winked and then, in a voice that was barely audible, mumbled, "In a couple minutes then?"

With all the hopes whispering in her ears, Usagi only heard the gentle hum of the wind sliding against the windows. Shuffling her boxes, she carefully placed the candy into her coat pocket, chirping a meaningful, "thank you!" and skipping out the door. She desperately hoped, perhaps hoped beyond hope, that the gifted candy might bring up any chance she might have had in the near future. Especially if this was her 'blessed day'.

It wasn't until she reached the end of the block that she realized she had absolutely no idea where she was going. "Which feels much like yesterday," she sighed, plucking the address from her pocket. "Door six-six-three of Apartments: Azabu." With a sound of disgust, she stuffed the note back into her coat. "Do you know how many apartments are in Azabu?" When nobody answered she merely glanced at the street sign adorning the corner street, and replied, "I even think Juban is in Azabu."

Perhaps it wasn't to be her Blessed Day after all.

Yet, when she turned her head, scanning the buildings in anticipation that she might recognize something, her eyes landed ideally on a stylishly golden slogan entitled: Azabu Apartments.

For the second time that day, she was in absolute awe. The building stood at twelve stories high, and the border of the building looked to be sketched in marble. The window winked at her haughtily as she drew closer, and she could have sworn she heard classical music purring from inside the foyer. If this was the living place of Sato-san's… admirer… then he really must be something close to a prince. Perhaps, she thought sullenly as she picked at her casual outfit, her father's boss should have sent such special gifts through FedEx. Or by chariot.

Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Usa! She snapped. You're beginning to sound like Rei-chan. Yet, even as she lectured herself, she couldn't help but notice the elaborate door handle, the extravagant door man, the marble floors and chandelier lighting.

"Can I help you?"

Usagi nearly jumped out of her skin. She flushed immediately. The woman behind the granite counter tapped her expensive nails delicately—and impatiently.

Usagi giggled nervously. "Yes, actually." She gulped awkwardly. "I have to deliver these boxes…"

"Deliveries are made out back." The woman relayed smoothly. Her eyes were ice-cold when they looked over her outfit, top to bottom. "On Saturdays."

The grand walls had a funny way of closing in on fourteen-year-olds. "Oh…" Usagi trailed off, looking for the words. "We didn't – that is, the person who wanted this delivered wanted it delivered today and," she stumbled, "and professionally." Then, she squeezed her eyes. "I mean, not professionally." She just wasn't used to being the benefactor of such a chilling stare!

Not professionally. "Are you quite sure you have the right building then?"

She said it with such preciseness, such frost, and such perfect annunciation that all of a sudden Usagi wasn't so sure she had the right planet.

But, then time snapped, and it was as if the very building itself had opened up, as if her very heart squeezed shut in abrupt palpations.

"Odango?"