Sailor Moon is copyright 1992 by Naoko Takeuchi.
North American Rights for Sailor Moon are owned by
D.I.C.

Rating: PG

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Child's Play ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


	I watched her bound into the room, full of
energy, of youth, of life.

	From her sparkling eyes to her frozen mile-wide
smile.  Her glowing skin to her constantly jumpy
body, unwilling to still for even a moment.  God,
even her hair was happy!  Golden, like the sun on the
warmest of summer days; bouncing happily, like a
balloon tied to a young child's wrist.

	Her hands flew wildly in the air, as she told
Motoki a story, which apparently included gestures.

	She bounded away enthusiastically to talk to
her friends.

	She never walked.  She never talked.  She
bounced and bounded, skipped and frolicked, hopped
and leapt, cried and exclaimed, shrieked and
hollered, shouted and yelled, argued and retorted;
but she never just walked or talked.

	I don't understand it.  I'm not sure I ever
will.


^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^


	I sensed her presence again.  It was habit.  I
don't know how, but I just knew when she was around.
Like when you know someone just entered your room,
while your back was turned.  It's a feeling you get.
My feeling went one step further.  I knew _who_ it
was.  Or rather, I knew when it was her.

	My stool swiveled so I faced her.  She took a
stool two away from mine.

	She craned her neck, looking for Motoki, I can
only presume.  She glanced at me once, waited a
moment, I suppose expectant of an insult of sorts,
and upon receiving none, did the civil thing and
nodded her head once, suspicious confusion on her
face.

	I returned the nod, and she turned away, after
looking at me strangely once more.

	My curiosity finally got the best of me.

	"I have to ask . . ."

	Her neck twisted, and she faced me.  I think
she was expecting me to be talking to someone else
and just wanted to see who it was.  When she found
she was the only one within earshot, she looked
around as if saying, "You talking to me?"

	"Why are you always smiling?"

	Her body turned and her head arched away from
her body, as if she was trying to hear better.
"What?"

	"Why are you always so happy?"

	She looked at me rather curiously.  I tried to
appear absolutely serious, because I was.  A book lay
open in my lap.  I dangled my reading glasses from
the fingers that rested half on the counter.

	"I've got a better question."

	I raised an interested eyebrow.

	"Why aren't you?"

	I froze for a moment, and mind you, it was only
a moment.  A millisecond.  I recover quite quickly,
thank-you-very-much.

	I smirked.  "What makes you think I'm not?"

	She shrugged indifferently.  I do not like it,
dear readers, when people do that.  Indifference is
in _my_ job description.

	I waited, partially angry, more so expectant.
"Well?"

	She looked at me and just said, "'Cause you're
not."

	Now, this was rather unnerving for me.  To be
undone by a . . . a mere high school student, who
spent half her time asleep and the other half in an
arcade.

	My friends, you understand what nagging is,
correct?  Insistent, annoying, irritating,
persistent.  Yes, we all know what nagging is.  After
all we deal with it every day.  That tiny stupid
little voice that always seems to be right.  Yes,
that thing, that . . . that _conscience_, began to
nag me.

	'I don't really understand how you can make fun
of her.  After all, you're a college student who
spends half his time in an arcade.'

	Yes, I do so hate my conscience.

	I stood and walked out of the arcade, partially
to counter my conscience and partially because I
didn't want to face Usagi.

	I heard her call for me, trying to tell me to
wait.  I suppose she felt bad, she's the kind of
person that would.  I didn't mean to make her feel
worse . . .

	Well, I suppose in a way I did.  She could push
my buttons, and it was not a feeling I liked.  I was
not the type of person to have their buttons pushed.
I'm not even supposed to have buttons to push,
dammit!  I'm supposed to be in control!  Not some 16-
year-old little girl-

	Okay.  So, I'm a little spiteful; sue me.  I'm
only human.  I only asked a simple question.  It
wasn't as if I'd asked if she was a virgin.  I hadn't
asked anything personal.

	Regardless, my *ahem* simple question had
backfired on me in ways I didn't think possible.

	I went to my apartment.  I tried to study but
the anatomy of the human body was not sinking in.  I
kept thinking of Usagi.

	'Why aren't you?'

	'Why aren't I what?  Happy?  I am happy.  I'm
getting good grades.  I'm living satisfactorily.  I
have a good job.  I -'

	'But are you happy?'

	'. . . Hai?  Hai!  Of course!  Of course I'm
happy . . . aren't I?'


^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^


	I tossed and turned all night.  I couldn't
sleep.  I kept seeing her face.  Kept hearing her
words.

	''Cause you're not.'

	I woke up to the tap, tap, tapping of the rain
outside.  Isn't fate grand?  I wake up to the rain
after having a restless sleep and not an ounce of
knowledge in my head.  I couldn't study at all.  And
for me, my friends, _that_ is almost as bad as the
little Odango Atama getting to me.  Almost.


^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^


	I skipped classes that day, knowing I wouldn't
be able to concentrate.  I spent the entire morning
and early afternoon thinking about the meaning of
happiness.

	Later in the afternoon, I decided to go for a
walk.  I stepped into my jeans and pulled on my black
sweater.  It was only drizzling by this time.

	I walked towards the arcade, but changed my
mind.  I didn't really feel like talking to anyone.

	I headed for the park instead.  It was almost
completely deserted, as I knew it would be.  Who
would be crazy enough to go for a walk in the rain?
Besides me.  But I didn't count.  I already knew that
I was insane.  I had spent the whole morning talking
to myself.  And there I was . . . talking . . . to
myself . . . again.

	'Happiness is actually overrated.  People just
fool themselves into accepting things and being
satisfied with the way things are, only because they
don't want to take the effort to change things to
what they really want . . . what would really make
them happy.'

	'Like you?'

	'No, not like me.'

	'Where's the difference?'

	'I know that what I feel is not happiness.  I'm
not fooling my-'

	'AH-HA!  So, you admit that you _aren't_
happy!'

	'Well . . .'

	'Yeeeessss?'

	Did you ever think that there was actually some
little person in your head that only pretended to be
your conscience but was really Satan trying to annoy
the hell out of you and drive you insane?  No.  Oh,
well, that's what I felt at that moment.

	'If we go by society's standards, then of
course I'm happy.  But society's standards are
unreal, so in reality-'

	'You mean the way you see reality.'

	'IN REALITY - as I was saying before I was so
rudely interrupted - I am not happy, but then again,
nobody really is.'

	'Not even Usagi?'

	' . . . '

	Ever feel like your logic was absolutely
satanic?  That's because it was right.  I hate
obnoxious voices, especially when they're your own.
That makes it all the more worse.

	'Well, Usagi . . . Usagi is special case.'

	'How so?  Please, enlighten me.'

	'She retains her child-like personality.
Therefore, she is able to remain care-free and enjoy
life through the eyes of a child.'

	'And nobody else is?'

	'I didn't say nobody else is.  I'm saying Usagi
is one of those special people who can do that.'

	'Mamoru, my dear.'

	' . . . '

	'You are certifiably full of shit.'

	Didn't I know it!  I was pulling things out of
nowhere faster than I pulled out insults for the
blonde odango atama.

	'Okay, so maybe the entire world is not full of
overrated happiness.  Maybe there are people who are
genuinely happy.'

	'Like Usagi.'

	'Yes.  Like Usagi.  But there are people out
there who fool themselves into happiness to shut
reality out.'

	'Like you.'

	'NO!  Not like me.  Argh!  We just went through
this.'

	'Like you.'

	'No, NOT - LIKE -'

	"I'm sing-ING in the rain!  Just sing-ING in
the rain!"

	My argument with *ahem* myself was then
interrupted by . . . yes, her!  She was singing -
obviously and skipping along.  She wasn't wearing her
uniform, strangely enough.  She was wearing khaki
shorts and a plain white short-sleeved shirt.
Adorned on her tiny feet were slippers.

	Her hair was in her usual hairstyle, except
damp and hanging a little limper with the weight of
the water.  Her skin was literally glowing.  I
suppose that was just the shimmer of the water.

	She was skipping along, swinging her hands,
bobbing her head side to side as she sang.  I was
just standing there, watching her.  It was adorable,
in a cute-little kiddy sort of way.

	She emanated innocence.  She was my definition
of innocence at that very moment.

	Finally, I found my voice.

	"Really, Odango!  You act like you're 5!"

	Unwilling to let me break her good mood, she
said, "Yeah, and you act like you're 50.  Tell me
Mamoru-san, which is worse?"

	Touché.  She was a feisty little thing when she
wanted to be.  I lifted one side of my mouth, in a
rather sorry excuse for a grin and tried to bare it.
It was what I did.  I don't know, maybe it was a guy
thing.  But I wasn't about to let this little girl
get to me, again . . . even though she already had.

	She stopped her skipping abruptly.  "Gomen
nasai, Mamoru-san.  I didn't mean that."

	I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, and
turned away from her.  'I don't care,' was what I was
trying to portray.

	Unfortunately, along with that child-like
innocence, Usagi also had the child-like ability to
be insistent.

	"No, I shouldn't have said that."

	"It doesn't matter.  I take it as a compliment.
I'm mature is all."

	She bristled like a mother hen.  "Oh?  And I'm
not?"

	I looked at her, bewildered.  "I didn't say
that."  Geez, women!  What's their problem?

	She looked at me indignantly.  Finally, she
left it alone and stood beside me.  "How long have
you been out here?  You're soaked."

	I ran a hand through my hair, not realizing how
wet it was until then.  Because of the moisture, it
stayed slicked back.  "A while.  I've been thinking."

	I never once thought of talking civilly to her
before.  What wonders thinking can actually do!

	"Why are you out here?  And dressed like that?"

	She looked down at herself.  "Dressed like
what?"

	"In shorts and slippers?"

	"Oh.  I'm walking in the rain."

	"Oh, really?  I missed that part."

	She rolled her eyes.  "Well, I am.  I don't
like it when my uniform gets all wet and heavy, so I
went home and changed."

	"Into clothes appropriate for . . . walking in
the rain?"

	"Hai!" She giggled.  "Don't look at me like
that.  Walking in the rain is fun.  It's refreshing.
It's romantic.  It's-"

	"Crazy?" I supplied.

	"Well, you're here, aren't you?" she retorted.

	"I came here to be alone; it just to happened
that it was drizzling."

	"Couldn't you have stayed at home to do that?"

	Funny, how idiotic you can seem sometimes when
logic decides to visit you after you've been so
incredibly stupid.

	"I wanted to get out."

	"In the rain?"

	"No, not in the rain.  Just outside."

	"But it was raining?"

	"Yes."

	"So, you went out willingly into the rain to be
alone when you could have stayed warm and dry and
alone in your apartment?"

	I glared at her.  I didn't like how she was
making sense of my stupidity.  It made it seem dumber
that it was.

	"Two peas in a pod."

	"What?"

	"You and me.  Two peas in a pod.  We both came
out into the rain willingly.  I don't care what you
say," she cried, holding a hand up to stop me from
saying whatever it was that I was going to say.
"You," her finger came to my chest, "Chiba Mamoru
came out here as willingly as I did, and you can't
deny it!" she crowed gleefully.

	I gave up.  I looked at her and just shook my
head.  There was no reasoning with her . . .
especially since she was right.

	"Now, who's acting like the 5-year-old?  At
least I admit to my actions, no matter how
ridiculous."

	"Okay, okay."  I held up my hands in surrender.
"I admit it.  Today I was as immature as you."

	"HEY!!"

	I laughed.  If you were in my position, you
would have laughed too.  If you were 5'9, looking
down at a 5-foot 16-year-old trying to look indignant
and disapproving at the same time and soaking wet, no
less, trust me, you'd laugh.

	She let it slide.  I guess she was happy with
the victory she had had.  Besides, it _was_ so much
more of one than mine was.

	"You know, you never answered my question." I
tried to appear causal about it, but I was anything
but.

	She glanced at me briefly and shrugged.  "Why
shouldn't I be happy?  I have my friends, my family-"

	'Two strikes already . . .'

	"-my health, my life.  But there is a more
important question than why am I happy; why aren't
you?  You go to an excellent school.  You're smart
and dedicated." She waggled her eyebrows playfully.
"You've got two teens ogling you right now."

	I glanced slightly in the same direction in
time to see two giggling 13-year-olds shriek and run
away in embarrassment.  Where they came from, I had
no idea.  How long they'd been there, I was clueless.
How Usagi had noticed them when I hadn't, I don't
know.  Maybe it was a girl thing.  Intuition of
sorts.

	Usagi continued.  "You live in a good area.
You seem pretty healthy.  You're old enough to be
doing a lot of things, but young enough to still be
able to do them well!"

	I laughed.

	"You like sports and get really good grades.
So, you're also relatively well rounded.  You seem to
get along with _most_ people."

	I had to smile at the obvious emphasis.

	"You've got Motoki, which also means you've got
Reika, 'cause let's face it: those two are attached
at the hip," she grinned, "or should I say the lip?"

	I grinned wryly.  I knew exactly what she
meant.

	"You're suave, as Rei would say.
Sophisticated, as Minako would say.  Ami thinks
you're debon-debonair.  I'm not exactly sure what
that means, but I'm pretty sure it's a good thing.
Means relatively the same thing as what Rei and
Minako said, right?  And Mako," she laughed.

	I cocked my head to one side, slightly
suspicious.  "What?"

	"Mako'll kill me, but . . . she thinks you're
awfully cute.  Actually, they all do."

	I stood up a little straighter and my lips
curved into a small grin.  "Really?"

	She smiled dryly.  "Don't let it go to your
head."

	"And you?"

	"What about me?"

	"What do you think about me?"

	She rolled her eyes.  "You're pretty okay . . .
for a baka!"

	Always quick to the tongue, "Thanks.  You too,
Odango."

	She elbowed me in a friendly manner.  In
retaliation, I pulled one of her pigtails.  She
glowered at me.  She didn't seem to like that.  But
she was only mad for a moment.  She never seemed to
stay mad long.  Hino Rei was proof of that.

	"You never answered my question either."  She
avoided eye contact.  She had approached the subject
cautiously, carefully, almost tentatively.

	Fair enough.  She had answered mine.  I should
do that same.

	"I don't have anything to be happy about."

	She turned her body towards me and put her
hands on her hips.  "Hel-LO!  Were you not listening
to me while I read off the list of why you should be
happy?"

	I sighed.  I really hadn't expected her to
understand.  "Forget it, Usagi-chan.  I have to get
home."

	She grabbed my arm as I tried to walk past her.
"No!  Don't give me such a vague answer and walk
away.  That's not fair!"

	"Why do you care?" I bit back.

	"Why don't you?"

	It was silent for a moment.

	'Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to.'

	I couldn't tell her that.  Yes, there was an
idea.  Let me just lay down my most secret inner
feelings and be completely vulnerable.  I knew this
wasn't a fairy tale.  I highly doubted she would
throw her arms around me and comfort me.  Things
didn't work that way.  Life didn't work that way.
_Nothing_ seemed to work my way.

	She let go my arm as we stared each other down.
She looked away and rested her arms on the railing
once again.

	She spoke gently.  Wisely, actually.  "You're
only - what? 18?  Enjoy your youth, Mamoru.  Enjoy
your life.  You only get one."

	I turned away from the railing and rested my
elbows on it.  I had a feeling she wanted to say
more.  What's more, I wanted to hear it.

	"You know, being happy is a lot better than
being depressed or sad or indifferent."

	"You feel less with those." It was true.  You
do feel less. That's why I prefer them so much more.

	"But you miss out on so much." She spoke
earnestly, really trying to convince me.  "Is it
really worth it?  Happiness is worth a few
grievances.  Think about it.  It's like the saying,
'Better to have loved and lost, than to have never
loved at all.'

	"If ever you're upset, you can remember what
made you happy.  If you've never been happy, what are
you going to do, remember other things that pissed
you off and made you cry?"

	There was that stupid logic again.

	"Life is what you make of it, Mamoru-san.  You
should know that.

	"It's a wonderful thing.  A wonderful gift.
Accept it readily, happily.  Life isn't full of
disappointment.  It _is_ disappoint.  But it's so
much more.  It's happiness and sadness, forgiveness
and anger, crying and smiling, weeping and laughing,
failure and success all rolled into one big jumble.
So confusing, it's exasperating.  Untangling the
emotions is half the fun."

	"And the other half?"

	"Experiencing it.  Feeling it.  Learning from
it."

	"Even if it's loss?"

	"Hai."  She smiled gently.  "The worst
experiences are the ones that test us.  Our
endurances, our limits.  You only get stronger by
pushing those limits, not by staying within them.  If
you stay within them, you don't move, you don't
progress."

	'Don't move, don't progress.  I've been in the
same spot since I was 10 years old.'

	I was then swept up in a flashback.

	I was ten.  It was the anniversary of my
parents' death.  I was at the cemetery.  I spent the
day there, like I did every year before.  I came back
at 8 o'clock.  That was curfew.  I overheard my name
and stopped to listen to the conversation.

	"He's such a baby."

	"He lost his parents!"

	"Still!  He's ten already."

	"He doesn't even remember them."

	"He should just get over it."

	Murmurs of agreement sounded.

	I threw the door open and was astounded by what
I saw.  The room was full of all the boys who were 8
to 12 years old.  The room was full of my friends.
My friends!  They were talking about me behind my
back.

	My lip trembled.  I wanted to cry.  But I
couldn't, not while they were expecting it.  Some of
them grinned smugly, others waited to see what I do,
only a few seemed sympathetic, but they still refused
to do anything.

	I couldn't take it.  I tried to hold in my
anger but I couldn't.  "At least my parents are dead!
None of your parents want you and that's why you're
here!" I screamed.

	They jumped me then.  We got in a really big
fight.  Soon the adults came in and separated us.
Lectured us.  I didn't care.

	As I brushed my teeth that night, I looked at
my bruised cheek, and my split lip.  I hated them.  I
hated them all.  I hated the world.  They took my
parents away from me.  I wasn't supposed to be in
this dump.

	Everything went downhill from there.  I never
reconciled with the others.  How could I knowing
that's how they felt about me?  I never made any new
friends, always suspicious that they were just
working undercover for the others to get revenge.
The years were filled with stupid pranks, name-
calling, and more fights.

	I learned to be indifferent.  To not care.  To
focus on getting the hell out of there and living on
my own.  And I did.

	And where did it get me?  Here I am.  Motoki
the only friend who knows about my past.  My other
friends coming periodically so I can help them study.
Not feeling.  Not knowing.  Now moving.  Not
progressing.  Talking to a 16-year-old about
happiness.  Or rather having her talk to me about it.

	Because I was unqualified to be the lecturer.

	"I have to go home, Mamoru-san."

	I don't know how long I had been out of it.  Or
how long she had been talking, if she had continued
to talk.

	I nodded my head slowly.  I had so much to
think about.  So much to figure out.

	She tugged my sweater gently and looked at me,
sort of beseechingly.

	I looked down at her.

	Her petite frame full of life - full of passion
_for_ life.  Her eyes as wise as Plato himself.  Her
smile as simply pure as a cooing babe.  Wise beyond
her years.  But in a naïve sort of manner.

	"Smile, Mamoru-san."

	She was indeed a mysterious puzzle.

	I gave her half a smile.  I tried to anyway.

	She smiled shyly.  And then widely.  And then
she broke out into light giggles.  I don't know why,
but she did.  And I don't know why . . . but it made
me smile . . . for real.

	"Ja ne, Mamoru-san.  Keep smiling.  It'll do
wonders for you."

	And then, this girl full of knowledge for life,
full of life, skipped away, humming 'Singing in the
Rain.'

	She paused to look back at one point.  And I
was there.  Still watching her.  Still smiling.  She
waved and I waved back.

	And then she pranced out of sight.  Her
floating feet, her swaying arms, her nodding head.
Finally, her long hair glided into nothingness and
soon I could no longer hear her singing or humming.

	I took off my sweater.  It really was soaked
through.  I did what I used to do when I was in 4th
grade.  I tied it around my waist.

	It made me feel slightly silly.  The logical
thing would be to keep the sweater on, instead of
directly wetting my body.

	It was still drizzling.

	I looked up at the sky.  It wasn't quite time
for the rainbow yet.  The clouds had more rain to
give.

	Maybe fate still had a few bad hands to deal
me, but I'd play them - no matter how bad - I'd play
them instead of folding.

	Starting now.

	I tilted my head upwards and let the raindrops
fall directly on my face.  They were light and landed
with a slight ping.

	I breathed in deeply.  I had forgotten how good
the air smells after the rain.

	I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked.

Refreshing, she had said.  It was that and
more.  For me it was a new beginning.  An
enlightenment.  Being cleansed of the past.  It was
the innocence that she had.

	It made me feel giddy that I could find such
pleasure in getting wetter than I already was, in
risking sickness, in walking in the rain.

	As I walked, my head began to nod and I began
to whistle.

	And guess what?

	I was smiling the entire time.


^ ^ ^ End ^ ^ ^


Author's Notes:

	There are none!

	Well, actually one:

	Next chapter to Life:Unravelings will be out
next week, if all goes well.

	*muah*

	Thanx for reading!  Email me and tell me what
you think of my out of the blue, non-editted, random,
not completely flowing fic!  Or you can just email
and say you liked it!

HoNeY
hnymustd@hotmail.com
08/15/00