Author Note: (UPDATED) This story has given me fits. It has taken a lot of time for me to figure out what to do with it, but I do finally see my way through.

This story is meant to replace or rework the first season of Sailor Moon. It's a "what if" story: What if Mamoru recovered his memories and powers and rescued the Shitennou before Beryl could use them again? What if the other scouts/senshi weren't fully awakened? Etc.

Names:

Mack Abe/Masato Sanjoin - Nephrite

Yuki Izono - Zoicite

Katsuya Saitou - Kunzite

? - Jadeite :)

Chapter 1: Dust to Dust

The Crystal Age

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon.

Chiba Mamoru.

Second year at Tokyo University, Komaba Campus.

Nineteen years old.

And currently staring at a Study Abroad brochure.

"America?" he mumbled to himself.

California would be nice about now, during winter in Tokyo. He eyed the form attached at the back and noted with displeasure the reminder to acquire parental permission.

"No need to worry about that."

He replaced the brochure but memorized the application dates.

Shouldering his bag, he made his way toward the Gymnasium.

He was finished with classes for the day and wanted nothing more than to hit the gym and let his brain relax.

"Sire?"

He stopped so fast that the student walking behind him stumbled into him. He apologized and pretended that he'd dropped his pen. Crouching on the ground, he tried to clear his head and focused on the disembodied voice he'd just thought he'd heard. There was no one close to him that he knew (which wasn't a difficult feat, since he knew almost no one).

His head felt hot.

"I can't get sick now," he thought.

Suppressing a groan, he straightened and continued on his way with no further interruptions. But his headache grew steadily worse.

When he finally left the gym and returned to his room in the Mitaka Residency Hall, there was an almost unbroken silence. He had rented the room for almost two years, or at least it would be by that spring, and enjoyed having the place to himself.

He had never bothered, in his Freshman year, to get to know his neighbors. He barely knew his classmates by name. He didn't really see the point since, by next year he'd have moved to the Hongo campus and would be living somewhere else. His only tie with the university, his only acquaintance, was the freshman girl who shared most of his bio classes. She was a pre-med major too. They'd done a few labs together. He wasn't sure he could remember her name.

Mizuno? That might be it. The blue-haired girl. That's how he remembered her.

He dropped his bag to the floor in an uncharacteristic moment of slovenliness, indicative, no doubt, of the intensity of his headache. After putting away his things, he finally slipped into the shower.

A few minutes later he lay on his bed, massaging his temples. He twisted to move underneath his blanket and accidentally knocked over his bag. A few sheets of notes fell out and something sparkling and substantial as well.

He caught the glint of it even behind his closed eyes and slowly turned to look at the odd golden object lighting up his room with a faint but steady glow.

Oozing out of bed, he bent to retrieve it and found it surprisingly light and warm to the touch.

"Where did this come from?" he asked no one.

The moment he made contact with it, it began to grow brighter. Finally it bathed the room in a light so bright he was forced to shut his eyes.

When he opened them four hours later, he was lying on his back on the floor of his room and the crystal was no where to be found.

But at least his headache was gone.

Three Months Later:

The pungent smell of burnt cookies wafted through the classroom, as her five-foot eight friend stared down at her burnt cookies, her pink panda oven mitts wringing each others' necks in pitty and despair.

"Bunny, this is the third time."

"I know."

"Valentine's Day is over today."

"I know."

"You can't give this to anyone. It's not edible."

"I know!"

Makoto blew her bangs out of her face.

"Well, it's not like you had someone to give them to anyway," she joked.

Usagi scowled.

"Neither did you."

"Don't be mean just because you burnt them again."

"Well," Usagi sniffed, "I wouldn't give them to the boys in our school anyway."

"I'd bake some for -"

Makoto stopped.

Usagi gave her a sly look.

"Semp-"

Makoto slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Tsukino-san!" her teacher called.

Usagi ducked her head and quickly dumped the bento box crammed with rocks that vaguely resembled cookies into the trash-can.

"Bunny!" Makoto hissed, frantically trying to recover the bento box.

"Don't -"

The teacher stood before them both, looking down her nose at Kino Makoto.

"Transfer student."

"Uh - Sensei, I can explain-" Makoto began, trying to hide the incriminating evidence.

To her surprise, the teacher looked at Usagi and said, with a sigh:

"No need."

Usagi blushed.

"Tsukino-san, I pray good fortune on whomever these are for."

Sensei wasn't stupid; she knew perfectly well that the reason every person in the class had come to school with cookies and chocolates today was because it was Valentine's Day. Every year she had to suffer through the sheer idiocy of it all. Especially with girls like Tsukino and Kino.

She patted Usagi on the shoulder.

"Poor girl."

In those two words, Usagi heard her fate. She, Tsukino Usagi, the most hapless dimwit ever to walk the earth, was to be supremely pitied for the rest of her contemptible life.

"I'll never get married!"

The tears, which had once been so ready to gush out three years ago, now only wavered on her lashes, but this didn't stop Sensei and Makoto from ducking for cover. Usagi was known for her violent emotions.

Makoto looked at the bento, noticing that it wasn't the least bit salvageable, and unceremoniously dumped it into the trash-can again.

"Come on," she said, tugging the blonde girl beside her as Sensei announced the end of their class.

"I brought double portions for lunch. Let's eat on the roof."

"I love you so much, Mako-chan."

"Ah-ah-ah, one condition."

Usagi skidded to a halt, trying not to drool as she thought of Makoto's cooking.

"You have to promise me that you'll listen to me next time we -"

"Shh!" Usagi frantically thrust her hand over her friend's mouth and looked around to make sure no one was listening.

"I promise."

Three Months Earlier:

Saitou Katsuya glanced up at the traffic signal and then back down at his shoes.

As usual he was the tallest person in the crowd. Of course, he'd long since given up trying to moderate the looks he got because of his hair.

He happened to glance across the street and noticed a large billboard with a glamorous, yet somehow cute actress sitting on a bubble chair, smiling. She was wearing a strange sailor suit - probably a high school product sell - and a red mask. He realized that he probably knew her name. She was blonde, but it was a trend among popular entertainers. Hamasaki had had blonde hair at some point - hadn't she?

He squinted at the billboard. No, it wasn't Hamasaki. Someone who favored her perhaps. Younger.

If Hamasaki and the unkown girl could have blonde hair, why couldn't he have unconventional hair too?

"Excuse me, grandfather -"

A middle-aged housewife, probably out shopping, stumbled against him as the light changed. He looked down at her and she stared at him for a full two seconds before blushing and bowing in the middle of the street.

"I'm so sorry - I didn't see -"

"It's fine."

He doubted she'd understood him. The look on her face told him that his low voice combined with his rather stern features and unusual hair had intimidated her.

Once safely on the opposite side of the street, she bowed very low and scurried away as fast as politely possible.

Katsuya sighed.

Not even middle-aged yet and he was already completely silver-white. He caught his reflection in the glass of the office building he worked in and tried not to grimace. His boss had hinted that he might try dying it, but Katsuya privately felt that he shouldn't have to embarrass himself like that and after one quick talk, his boss had agreed. People tended to agree with him. That was the nice thing about being different in an intimidating way. It had definitely helped when he'd been picked on in high school.

Of course, it also led to becoming a delinquent, and eventually leading his own gang.

Sailor...V. That's who it is.

He looked at the billboard again. That's who it was. Thinking about high school had reminded him of Sailor V, the ridiculous blonde super-hero. She'd been quite popular then, and it appeared she still was, though he was fairly sure she hadn't been seen in Japan in at least a year or more.

He was still musing on the long gone Sailor Vf when he heard an explosion behind him.

Before he could think his body reacted, throwing itself to the side, away from the glass, covering his neck and head.

He looked up.

Across the street what looked like a cross between a man and an octopus with a bad case of chicken-pox appeared to be trying to upend a car and shake its occupants out.

He craned his neck to see if the police were present. One policeman held a gun pointed at the octopus-thing. His partner was staring at it; his radio forgotten by his side. The policeman with the gun made a decision and took a shot. There was a roar and a crash and Katsuya realized the bullet had only made the octopus-thing angry. And now it was coming after the policeman.

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his cell phone.

"Fukushima-san? Can you tell Endo-san that I'll be a few minutes late? I'm...uh..."

A car door went flying over his head to land against a parked car to the side of the building.

"Caught in traffic."

He replaced his phone and put his case down somewhere it wouldn't get scratched. On second thought, he took off his jacket and put it over his brief case.

It was only then that he wondered what in the world he was doing.

But it was too late for that. The octopus-thing had already managed to snag a young man and was holding him upside down, suspended from his ankle.

Katusya approached the monster cautiously, carefully rolling his sleeves and tucking his tie to one side. It was his favorite tie - pink.

"I think you'd better put him down."

The octopus-thing actually paused for a moment. It seemed to consider the man before it with some hesitancy.

He really just had that kind of voice. Or maybe it was the eyes.