EDIT: Okay, so I would just like to apologize for all the lame weeaboo Japanese that I used in this fic, especially in the earlier chapters before I realized how stupid that is. I would go back and change it all but, sadly, some of the usage does have a point in the story and reworking it would be quite pointless... I'm sorry! I've stopped in the more recent chapters except for how the characters address each other at times which I believe would be strange to change after all this time. I hope you can enjoy the story despite my lame ways when I first started this fic. -.-"

Summary: Tamama is conflicted that the main point of his relationship issues with Sarge are due to his rage and jealousy. If he were more benign, like Angol Mois, perhaps things would change – but for better or worse?

Tamama Presents: Love you, crazy or not! – de arimasu

Tamama hummed softly as he descended the ladder leading to the Hinatas' basement, halting at the only door – a metal blue one, engraved with a yellow star. He hoped the gold-wrapped box – courtesy of Momoka – cradled in his arms would be to the liking of his beloved Sergeant. After all, Keroro was the one who'd invited him over; he couldn't let a chance as perfect as this to win Sarge's heart slip through his fingers.

Tamama preened his hat free of fuzz, and the gold box of loose foil, then burst through the door.

"Gunsou-san! I brought you some snacks, desu~!" Tamama sang, sure to hold the box high so Keroro could see its beautiful decoration.

Keroro glanced up from the new Gunpla he was building on the round, wooden table. "Oh, really, de arimas-ka? Thank you, Tamama Nitouhei!" He set down the Gunpla while Tamama placed the box on the table, seating himself next to Keroro. "What is it?" Keroro asked curiously.

"I hope you like it!" Tamama removed the cover of the box, revealing a fancy arrangement of starfruit and taiyaki – a dessert cut in fish shapes, filled with azuki beans, and deep fried, – inside. Keroro's eyes lit.

"Ooo, that looks delicious!" Keroro said, clasping his cheeks. A rosy blush overcame him.

"The taiyaki were cooked and harvested to perfection, and the starfruits were grown in the finest gardens in Japan," Tamama explained happily.

Keroro took a starfruit out of the box and bit into it. "These are really good!" he exclaimed, glee masking his green face.

"I knew my Gunsou-san would like them!" Tamama said confidently. The two of them munched on their treats, talking random rants to do with various things. It's nice to spend some time alone with Gunsou-san, Tamama thought blissfully, nibbling on a crunchy taiyaki. Sweet bitterness enveloped his taste buds. An abhorred, recognizable voice froze him in his joyous feasting; he burnt his tongue on the steaming azuki beans.

"Ouji-sama! Your new Gunpla just came in the mail!"

Keroro hopped to his feet, rushing to the doorway. "Oh, Mois-dono, I'm so glad it's here!"

Tamama recoiled in distaste, his head swiveling to see the wretched Lord of Terror. She never failed to interrupt he and Sergeant. "That woman," he hissed, watching her bend down to Keroro as he reached her. Perhaps the sugar-loaded taiyaki gave him an extra boost of energy, but as Tamama swelled with the power of a Tamama Impact, he felt a new sort of loathing – wracking in his brain. Mois and Keroro jolted in alarm, the yellow light gathering in Tamama's mouth, aimed at them.

Keroro attempted to calm him. "W-wait! Tamama Nitou –?!" Too late.

"TAMAMA IMPACTO!" Tamama screamed, letting free the ruthless beam of wrath upon Keroro. Except, for once, it didn't hit Keroro. Keroro was knocked out of the way by Mois, who wasn't fast enough to whip out her multi-purpose space phone, and block it with her Lucifer Spear. Caught off-guard, Mois was sent flying into the hallway wall, a yelp escaping her lips.

Tamama panted angrily, his insides boiling. The far wall now had debris all over it, – no afro this time – and it dawned on him who he'd blasted.

"Tamama!" Keroro stood to the left wall, his arms on his hips, glaring at the tadpole. Keroro strode to Mois, who lay collapsed in a battered heap on the ground. "You need to be more careful!" Keroro scolded. "You could have killed Mois-dono!"

"That wouldn't have been such a bad thing," Tamama mumbled.

"I'm all right, Ouji-sama," Mois responded weakly as she got to her knees. Having heard Tamama, Keroro berated him in disgust.

"Tamama Nitouhei! You are being selfish and should be shameful toward your actions! What was that even for, de arimas-ka?!"

Tamama's vengefulness faded; his eyes became more lucid. Keroro's words slapped him hard. "Huh?! B-but I jus –"

"Until you can get yourself under control, you shouldn't be allowed near the Keroro Platoon!" Keroro raved, fuming as he and Mois exited the room. "Geez!"

The door smacked shut behind them, and Tamama was left alone. Sinking to his tiny, blue knees, Tamama echoed Keroro's declaration in his mind. "Until you get yourself under control, you shouldn't be allowed near the Keroro Platoon!" You shouldn't be allowed near the Keroro Platoon! You shouldn't be allowed near me! Tamama's imagination twisted Keroro's words into being.

"Gunsou-san hates me," Tamama pouted to no one. Tears welled in his eyes. It wasn't fair! She was the one who caused him to go off the edge! She was the one who gave him the complex he had, the one who always, always bothered he and Mister Sarge, so why should he be blamed for it?! It wasn't fair! It was never fair! Now, because of her, Keroro didn't even want Tamama in the platoon anymore – didn't even want Tamama around him. Somehow, Tamama knew it wasn't entirely Mois's fault…

"My crazy side…" Tamama articulated slowly, comprehending what Keroro had said – and meant. "It's the crazy me that scares Gunsou-san away… If I were more amiable, like her… maybe Gunsou-san wouldn't get angry at me as often as he does now."

Change himself to be like Mois? He shuddered. If it was for Keroro's sake, Tamama would do just that.

And so that was what he did.

Tamama approached the Corporal's maroon tent. The older Keronian was wiping his weapons, per usual. "Giroro-senpai, I need your help," he said, clenching his fists.

"What is it, Tamama?" Giroro questioned, confounded.

"I need you to teach me how to stay calm and collected on the battle field," he answered promptly.

"R-really?" Giroro asked, shocked. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not sure you're battle material, Tamama."

Tamama nodded. "I know, Gochou-san, I just need to get my rage under better control."

Giroro was astounded. "I didn't think you would ever see it as a problem," he admitted, awe prevalent in his features as he stood. "I'll help you however I can."

Giroro and Tamama clutched one rifle each, crouched side by side, at the indoor shooting range, pointing them at the targets that resembled Pekoponian silhouettes. They both had earmuffs to ensure they didn't lose their hearing in the process.

"Alright, the first thing, is to aim sharply and keenly, be sure you will not miss your target," Giroro instructed. "All of your concentration must fuel your shot."

Tamama honed in on his senses, shifting the rifle into just the right position.

Giroro observed this. "Good, now… channel all your anger toward the target."

"Eh?!" Tamama looked away from the target to gape at Giroro. "But I thought this was to make my anger less!"

"W-well, yes," Giroro stuttered, slightly irritated, "but if you still have anger inside of you, you can't necessarily let go of it. Just try."

Tamama gulped, refacing the target. He adjusted his position one last time.

BLAM. Straight through the heart.

"That was a good shot, Tamama," Giroro commented, disbelief in his voice. However, Tamama didn't feel better at all. He took another shot.

BLAM. Right through the head. No good. Still nothing.

BLAM. Through the shoulder.

BLAM. The waist.

BLAM. The thigh.

BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM!

Wafts of smoke swirled from the nozzle of the rifle. Giroro stared at Tamama, the insane Private riveted on the eviscerated target before him, rifle rocking up and down. "How was that, des-ka?" Tamama asked hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot.

Giroro cringed from the face Tamama was making. "M-maybe range shooting isn't the right way for you to calm yourself in battle."

No luck there. Next, was Lance Corporal Dororo.

"The only way to find peace in action is to first find peace within yourself," Dororo stated, sitting cross-armed and cross-legged in his personal dojo. Tamama resumed the same pose, across from him. Lavender and peppermint-grass incense smoldered in the ash tray between them. "Let's do some deep breathing," Dororo said. He opened his dapple, azure eyes. "Now think of your perfect scene, find your happy place, de gozaru."

Tamama nodded in A-okay. He snapped his eyes shut, took reeling, deep breaths – inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling. In his mind's eye, an endless pile of cake came into view, towering over him into the bright, sunny sky. While the imaginary him began chowing down the array of pastries, his physical self meandered in the pleasing aroma of the incense. His ire well forgotten in the recesses of his mind, now. Tamama sighed to himself delightfully.

In the midst of his delight, he caught sight of another.

"Tamama Nitouhei, would you mind sparing me some?" Keroro scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.

Tamama grinned, wiping some of the frosting off his face. "Of course, Gunsou-san." Tamama plucked a large wad of cake from the wall he'd been devouring, and handed it to Keroro.

Sarge took it gratefully. "Arigatou, Tamama-kun!" Keroro thanked. Tamama watched as Keroro skipped to a far corner, stopping to hand someone a piece of his requested cake.

"Here you go, Mois-don –"

Yellow spheres of rage demolished Dororo's dojo as real life Tamama destroyed the mental paradise that had transpired into a mental dystopia – no different than reality. "T-Tamama-kun…" Dororo whimpered once certain Tamama's fit had ended, cowering away from him.

"That was what Gunsou-san called me before I blasted him with my Tamama Impact," Tamama wheezed, crazed.

"Eh –! Calm down, Tamama-dono," Dororo pleaded anxiously.

The last viable option was Sergeant Major Kururu.

"I don't see why I should care about your problems, ikaze," the yellow frog mocked, not even caring to rotate his chair to see Tamama. One finger dug in his nose for gold, complicated C++ codes covered the entire screen of his computer – mostly zeros and ones. It was always dark in here, save the screen that allowed Kururu to do or make just about anything he wanted to. Tamama was thankful he rarely went in there, eerie as it was. Giroro swore he heard screams on a regular basis. But Tamama couldn't let fear get to him now; he had to do this for his beloved Sergeant.

"Please, Kururu-senpai! I have to change myself for Gunsou-san!" Tamama implored desperately. "I'll do anything, desu!"

That caught Kururu's attention. His high-propped swivel chair spun to face Tamama. "Anything, you say?" Kururu prodded in that malevolent way he did. That was right. Tamama would do anything. Anything to ensure he was the perfect subordinate for his one and only Keroro.

Tamama gulped. "Hai, desu," he confirmed.

Kururu cackled. "Kuuukukukuku~ Very well, then." He got off his high perch, and led Tamama to one of the alcoves in his laboratory – lair? – perhaps torture chamber was the best name for it. "Try this," Kururu pulled out a syringe full of red-pinkish liquid which rolled in the enclosed glass.

"Wh-what is it, des-ka?" Tamama asked distrustfully, something sinister about its properties.

"Nothing, really," Kururu said. "It'll just alter your entire personality if you drink it. No more fits of jealousy. No more anger. You'll feel flawless happiness every second of your pitiful life."

"Sounds like some type of drug." Tamama squinted at the potion, as though to scrutinize the ingredients out of it.

"Its effects are permanent, too, kukuku~" Kururu added.

Tamama had to admit… it was tempting. But what he needed was some way to actually GET a relationship with Sarge, not fake one by any means possible, deluding himself. "No thanks," Tamama said, waving his hand as he headed toward the slide-panel doorway of Kururu's lair.

Once Tamama had gone, the only sound to be heard were the churning disks of hard drives, and clicking of resistors and transistors. Kururu laughed deviously. "Kuuukukuku~ It was worth a shot." He uncorked the syringe with a shrug, chugging down the pinkish concoction.

The doorbell rang.

"Hello, Fuyuki-kun," Momoka lulled as she crossed the threshold of the front door. "I'm glad I could come over today." She blushed sweetly, following the junior-high teen through the house.

"Good to see you, Nishizawa-san. We need to discuss the next step in the Occult Club. Hold on a sec – I'll be right back," Fuyuki said. He pointed to the couch in the living room. "You wait here."

"Okay." Momoka sat herself down on the couch, clutching the accustomed bag lunch she brought every time to the Hinata house to win Fuyuki's heart with her cooking. Fuyuki jogged from the room, which was rare, considering how much he hated sports. A sudden, circular pit appeared below Momoka, sending her into the dark abyss. She shrieked, spinning head-first. She landed in the control room of the Keroro Platoon, rubbing her aching behind.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR, YOU FILTHY JERKS?!" she demanded, her fist tightening around the lunch bag. Keroro rose from his chair in the center of the room, and Momoka chucked her bag at him. Fuyuki and the other platoon members were there, too.

"S-sorry, Nishizawa-san," Fuyuki apologized, grinning sheepishly. "I didn't know they'd get impatient like that."

Momoka's shoulders went lax, her other side returning. "Oh, that's all right. Just warn me next time, okay? Now what's this about?" she shouted, annoyed again.

"Actually, we needed your opinion on something," Keroro said, panning one arm toward the large HD screen that displayed Japan's Court of Justice after climbing onto his throne again. "Maybe you could tell us how to get past the Pekoponians' government, de arimas!"

Momoka sagged in her school uniform. "Wh-why would you want to do that besides to take over for one of your invasion plans…?" she said, belated.

Keroro smiled amiably. "You see, we're going to try to use taxes to parch the Pekoponians of money," he propped one leg on his monitor, his tone escalating rapidly, "so they'll all die of starvation, de arimas!"

"I don't think you should be asking a Pekoponian about this," Momoka said, her lips twitching. "Especially one who owns HALF OF THE GOVERNMENT'S OFFICIALS!" she shouted.

"Yeah, Gunsou, that was pretty lame," Fuyuki input.

"You should think before you speak," Giroro agreed. "Or don't speak at all."

"Kukuku~"

"Grr! I don't need any opinions from you!" Keroro shouted, fed up with their disrespect. He sprang from his chair and dashed out the control room. "I'll do it myself with my handy Pekoponian Suit suit, de arimas!"

Mois cried, "Ouji-sama!" going after him.

"Gunsou!" – Fuyuki.

"Keroro!" – Giroro.

Bringing up the rear was Kururu. "Cheh. Whatever."

And then there were two. Momoka let out an exhausted breath, turning to see one Keronian still in his place. "Oh, Tama-chan, you've been awfully quiet this whole time," Momoka said. "I didn't see you there."

He didn't respond, only shook his head, unshed tears in his eyes. Momoka gasped. "What's wrong?" She rushed over to him, resting one hand on his back. Tamama didn't answer immediately. He recalled the rejection and oblivion his platoon spurned on him, which made containing his tears more difficult.

"No matter how hard I try, I can't make my crazy side disappear," he whimpered somberly, trembling. Momoka hadn't been told of his plan to alter his personality, but seeing him like this struck a chord in her. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tamama whispered. Tears spilled onto his cheeks, and Momoka wrapped her arms around him gingerly, lifting him closer to her. "Gunsou-san could never love me," he gasped, the tears increasing.

Momoka held him closer still. "It's okay," she said gently, her voice no more than a breath. "Even if Keroro doesn't love you, crazy or not, I always will."

Despite the aching in his chest, Tamama felt warmer somehow, as if he weren't on Pekopon, in a world full of aliens, but more as on a planet to make lifelong friends. No matter how vast Pekopon and the Pekoponians on it were, she would always be there to comfort him – that is, as long as he didn't interfere with her relationship plans with Fuyuki. Tamama nuzzled Momoka's neck lovingly, his tears wetting her clothes. Their silent exchange of love clicked one thing for certain to him. He finally understood what it meant to be "two birds of a feather."

Once the initial not-so-shocking, yet shocking failure of another invasion plan down the hole, the Keroro Platoon settled back into their daily routine – which consisted of doing absolutely nothing of consequence. Tamama was shy of going back through the Sarge's room after his tears had ceased. Momoka ran ahead, upstairs to find Fuyuki, while Tamama and Keroro were in his room once again – alone (except for maybe ceiling Dororo).

Tamama felt awkward sitting next to Sarge at the round table – their snacks from that morning still there, barely ruffled in the golden-plaited box. Keroro read one of his comic books, leaning on one arm. Tamama's stomach growled for food, but he didn't want to eat. So he stared at nothing, through the table, thinking of nothing – or trying to, at least. Keroro flipped a page of his comic book.

"Look, Tamama Nitou," Tamama jumped from the break of silence, though his voice was low. Strange, for Keroro. "I shouldn't have been so harsh on you this morning," Keroro murmured, keeping his face down toward the Captain Geroro panels. "I apologize, de arimas."

Tamama had never heard an apology out of Sarge, especially one directed at him. He resorted to the only way he knew how to answer, not daring to get his hopes up. He focused on his tiny hands, placed on his legs, curled under him. "No, Gunsou-san, I understand how much trouble I cause you because of my childishness. I do need to change myself." His head sank more into his chest. "I… I don't deserve you," he sputtered, on the verge of tears again.

Keroro did look at him now, sitting up with his legs crossed. "Tamama Nitouhei, there's no need to change yourself." Tamama raised his head, too, his vision watery with tears. Keroro smiled. "You wouldn't be yourself without your crazy rage side, de arimas."

It took Tamama no more than a moment to register this. "Y-you really mean it, desu?" Tamama asked, the blush in his face spreading to his entire being.

Keroro was bemused by his sudden mood change. "Of… of course, Tamama."

In an elated wave of gratitude, Tamama flung himself into Keroro, sobbing tears of joy.

"I'll never leave you, Gunsou-san, desu!"

Keroro put his hand on Tamama's head, which made the young Keronian's temperature rise higher still under all his tears. "I would hope not, Tamama-kun."

I decided there NEEDED to be more KeroTama fanfictions, so I wrote one. In fact, I have many others planned, and plan on posting them, possibly as the same story. I am fully aware something alike to this happens in one of the movies, but I have not yet watched the entire show, so I apologize for unintentional similarities. ^^;

Believe it or not, I got the idea of this fanfic from a dream. Except, I only actually dreamt the part between Tamama and Momoka. I found it extremely cute and sad, and over the next couple of days I formulated the rest of the story fairly easily, actually, as Sgt. Frog is such a diverse show. Please tell me what you thought, everyone! I'll write more, depending on how much you like it~!