AN: Here's the last in my little drabble series, ending where canon starts. Thank you to everyone who read this, and to uglygreenjacket for being my helping angel! Please let me know what you think of it!

7

Odango

To say that Mamoru was agitated was an understatement.

There had been break-ins and robberies in jewelries all across the city for several weeks – not of his doing, obviously, as he never ended up stealing – the Silver Crystal was never there, after all. But, from those few times that he had been too careless, and pictures of him – or, rather, glimpses of him, since he kept his face turned down, the top hat shrouding it in shadow, unidentifiable – breaking and entering into the very places of question, had turned up in the media. Thus, obviously he was the prime suspect.

The thought made him furious… Of course he didn't show it, though.

Sometimes he thought his face was the mask, not the white accessory that he used to cover his eyes.

Yet, besides the defamation by the media, it was something else that bothered him most about the situation… Whoever was doing this… what if they found it? What if they had it, now?

It made him restless, the thought was disturbing. He didn't know to what length he'd have to go if it were true. He didn't want to know what else he was capable of.

So, he became obsessed. Even more so than before. He needed to be quicker than whoever was doing these robberies.

Thus, he dropped every last extracurricular course, and after school he'd go scouting the shops, search for its weak points, only to come back in the cover of night and moonlight.

This was exactly how he found himself in front of Osa-P, in the middle of day. Like today, he still sometimes went the tuxedo route, going inside and asking around, trying to seem older and more respectable in order to be taken seriously, to be led to the truly exclusive sections. It rarely ever worked, but it still seemed worth a try.

This one, though, today, didn't seem very exclusive in itself.

A slender woman with a short, auburn bob stood in the middle of the store, announcing over and over in a loud, booming voice what was written all across the store. Clearance sale. 95% off.

The woman herself, to him, felt off. There was something strange about her, something malicious that he'd never felt in a person before. It made him, for a moment, wary to go in.

It happened unconsciously, while recoiling away from the darkest of feelings he'd ever felt in any person, that his body turned away, towards the purest feelings he felt in the near vicinity, and found himself, maybe too closely altogether, behind a blonde girl with a peculiar hairstyle in a school uniform.

He swallowed, about to step back in embarrassment – this didn't usually happen to him, just as she crumpled a paper rigorously, throwing it behind herself blindly – it landed – how could it be otherwise, with him standing right behind her – directly in his face.

"Oi, that hurt, bump head. Are you trying to make my head look like yours?" he said, as he held out his hands to catch the offending piece of paper.

"Bumps?! These aren't bumps, baka, they're Odango – hair buns."

Her voice was young, childish, loud, but he paid her no mind at all, and instead unfolded what he quickly discovered to be a test paper in deft movements. Class 2. Tsukino Usagi. Thirty percent, underlined and red.

He raised an eyebrow. He really couldn't remember ever having seen a grade that bad, for anyone. And in a subject as easy as English, too!

"Thirty percent? You need to study more, Odango Atama."

He knew it was rude, talking to a stranger like that, but, to be honest, it felt nice to be talking to someone so carelessly. He didn't remember the last time he did, without guard. So, he shrugged and cheekily lowered the paper towards her head.

She gripped it with the smallest hands he'd ever seen on a girl, and angrily ripped it away.

She was saying something. He knew she was… but…

Those eyes. The hair… soft lips, translucent skin… those eyes.

Princess… his mind whispered to him, and his heart might have skipped a beat in shock.

She stopped. And so did he.

His stomach dropped, and he knew, for once, he had no control of his facial muscles. His expression must have slipped, and really, it was no surprise to him.

It was impossible, a trick of his mind, he knew it. But she looked just like her. As if he recognized her. As if he forgot her, from somewhere way back…

His hand twitched, as if trying to reach out, and he could do nothing but stand rooted on the spot, willing his hand to stay put as he helplessly stared into blue eyes.

Blue eyes that were staring right back at him.

He felt it, then. The heavy hammering of her heart, the flush of flight.

She retreated, immediately. Away from him, quickly. So quickly that she forgot her bag, and had to inch back, tentatively, to reach for it. All the way, never breaking his gaze – like prey wary of its predator.

She couldn't seem to get away fast enough, hurrying along the red cobbles of Juuban with her book-bag clutched protectively against her chest.

He could only stare after her, for a moment. Paralyzed. Rooted.

The lump lodged in his throat only became thicker.

Tsukino Usagi.

How very fitting. Another trembling, frightened rabbit, so impossibly adorable that his chest ached, that he yearned to touch but never would.

He swallowed, thickly, regaining control of his facial features and turned back toward Osa-P, shaking his thoughts away. There were other, pressing matters at hand, than what could never be.