# 45: Cape
She'd been looking forward to a calm, youma-free night. With a cup of hot chocolate that she'd sneaked into her room and a fuzzy pink blanket around her shoulders, she was ready to relax on that January evening. That was when her communicator went off.
After cursing the blasted thing and having Luna claw her to stop the communicator's demise, Usagi climbed out her window to reluctantly join the ongoing fight.

She stopped short when she reached the park where the Senshi were already battling the youma. "Mars, please tell me that thing does not control ice," she whimpered.

"Sailor Moon, unless you want the youma to prove it to you by pegging you with a lump of ice, I suggest dusting it!" At the sound of their voices, the hulking, ice-manipulating youma turned to glare menacingly at Sailor Moon.

"Ouch!"

"Too late," Mars muttered.

So now Sailor Moon sat beneath a tree, rubbing her arms and legs to create some heat, however minimal. There was ice in her boots, ice in her odangoes, ice flecking her eyelashes, slushy, half-melted ice in her gloves. She'd never eat ice-cream again. Never. Okay, maybe she would, but she wouldn't be able to look at it without scowling.

The youma had been moondusted fairly quickly tonight. Probably because Sailor Moon had been so furious at being struck by ice when she was already freezing. She had told the Senshi to leave her. She'd be going after she'd gotten her energy back and swept all the ice off of herself. Her parents would not be too happy if they found puddles of water all over her room. On second thought, she mused, I could just blame Luna. Payback for the claw marks on her leg.

After wishing aloud that her fuku was longer than four inches she looked up and started. The tall, impressive form of Tuxedo Kamen stood over her.

"I seem to be late."

She nodded. "It was a fast fight."

"Snow youma?" he asked as he took in her shivering body and the icy flakes in her clothing and hair.

"Ice," she corrected.

"Oh." With more concern than he'd liked to have shown, he said, "Here, take this." In a trice, something black and crimson had been wrapped around her form. Almost instantly, her trembling ceased.

"Thank you," she whispered in gratitude. So much better than a fuzzy pink blanket.

The sound of a cat screeching in the distance sliced through the night; the awkward yet comfortable silence was broken. Silently, he made as if to leave. Sailor Moon began to draw the cape from around her, but he stopped her.

"Keep it until next time."

Then he disappeared into the night as usual, albeit the swooshing of his cape. Left alone to her thoughts, she drew the cape more tightly around her. She reveled in his warmth still left over in its folds, his musky and sweet scent, and the sense of security it gave her. She suddenly pictured herself wrapped in the cape, with him still wearing it. That would be heaven, she thought with a small sigh.

Her little fingers smoothed out the creases in the cape, wondering at the surprisingly soft texture. Then she came across a slit in the crimson lining. It was a pocket. She felt excitement well up within her chest. Maybe, there was a clue to his identity in this pocket! Maybe a library card or an initialed handkerchief! She didn't stop to think why Tuxedo Kamen would carry around his library card in his cape. Her hand deftly withdrew the object from its small pocket. She held it up in the dim light of a lamp post.

It was a white mask.

She got over her disappointment quickly and examined the object. An extra mask, maybe? In case he loses his other one? He's not only gallant, he's also prepared for anything.

She ran a thumb along the snowy white mask. With a smile, she put it on and fastened the cape. So this was what it felt like to be Tuxedo Kamen. She stood up from her grassy seat and promptly tripped on the ends of the cape.

---

A ruffle-haired Mamoru opened the door of his apartment the next morning. He was just in time to see the gossipy wife of a corporate raider passing by.

She stopped upon seeing him. "Chiba-san, have you heard?" asked the robed woman, looking ready to chat for a few hours.

"Heard what, Maruyama-san?" he said politely.

"Why, this!" She thrust the newspaper that she'd been holding into his hands. When he looked at the front page, he felt sure his eyes were ready to fall out of his head. The headlines read, "Tuxedo Moon?" and underneath was a black-and-white photo of a caped, shadowy someone leaping from one building to another. Someone with odangoes and streamers of hair flying behind her.

R-E-V-I-E-W! See, I spelled it out for you, my precious readers.