Usagi was feeling weary. That fight as Sailor Moon, saving Princess D from the Dark Kingdom, had really wiped her out. Her mind fluttered form thought to thought. Nothing really made sense anymore.
Juice, she thought weakly. That was sure to perk her up. Her skirts were just stirring the hem of the tablecloth adorning the refreshments table when she caught the familiar scent of roses, wind, and coffee. As peculiar as the combination was, it was engraved into her senses, triggering that delicious rush of warmth and butterflies in her stomach. Tuxedo Mask . . .
She spun on her heel, but she moved much too fast and the world tilted, slanting sharply before righting itself. She reached out for Tuxedo Mask, but she didn't have to worry. Seeing her stumble, he looped an arm around her waist and scooped up her knees with the other, rescuing her from the dangers unveiled by her exhausted eyes. He was a perfect gentleman, holding her no closer than necessary, but Usagi was having none of it. She was taking full advantage of the haziness, the way reality was distorted, taking on a dream-like quality. She clenched his lapel in her fist, no doubt wrinkling the fine fabric, but she was beyond caring. Pressing her face into his coat, she inhaled his scent, she inhaled his warmth.
Mamoru . . . no, Tuxedo Mask cradled her closer, and Usagi let her eyes close with a heavy finality. Sleep settled on her, heavy and warm, and she was only dimly aware of Tuxedo Mask moving through the room. She felt cool air caress her skin, saw the moonlight on the inside of her eyelids, but when he kissed her, all of those details vanished. The only thing that existed was him and her, the only thing that mattered was the way he tasted, like starlight, and the way he kissed her, like she was his whole world . . . no, it was the other way around . . . he tasted like starlight and secrets, long forgotten . . . Mamoru, is that you? It looks like you . . .
Slumber gathered the young woman in his arms, carrying her to that place between fantasy and reality that exists solely in sleep. The young man watched her go, gazing at her still, peaceful face, lit by the moon. Neither of them had quite realized that they were not strangers, that this had not been their first kiss in the moonlight. The answers to all their questions — Who are you? Who am I? — had already been revealed, in the space that existed between fantasy and reality. All that remained was for them to do was awaken.