Exhaustion is deeply imbedded within the girl’s bones by the time she begins heading home, feet dragging along solitary pavement at a speed that would shame a snail. The night’s battle had been rough - spanning from one side of the city to the next - and took most of starlit hours to complete. Not even Luna, usually harping on about the mistakes made, had the energy to complain. Distractedly Usagi wonders if she could convince her mother to let her stay home from school, but quickly scraps the thought when thinking of Ikuko’s ability to see through her.
While this time alone provides time to think, it’s a poor decision. Unbeknownst to the blonde a small group of thugs trail a few feet behind, eying both her purse and alluring gait. They go entirely unnoticed until she happens to catch their reflections in a building’s large glass windows, and the image is enough to spark panic. There’s nowhere to slip away in order to transform, and throbbing leg muscles only work to remind her that outrunning them won’t work for long. However, she knows there’s no other choice, and in one movement swoops down to gather the mau into her arms and run.
Heart hammering, trembling limbs carry the young female a few blocks on pure adrenaline alone, giving her a false sense of hope that getting away is possible. That is, of course, until she turns a corner and finds a dead end — they weren’t giving chase at all, they were herding her.
Frantic she whirls around, only to find the exit blocked, their deep frowns drawing into wolfish grins. Faltering backwards until her back meets chilled brick, she gasps in air in small, frantic bursts. Sheer terror grips her as the leader of the tiny group steps forward, and it pushes Usagi to try one more tactic.
Despite burning lungs, despite how her expelling voice quivers — it’s clear in its desperation, and filled with foreign power.
“Someone —- anyone! HELP!!"
He has only just moved into the city. Time and time again, fight after fight, his aunt and uncle finally had enough of the troubled teen. Anger that grew within him never leaving, no matter how many fists thrown at others or within the confines of his own room. One of many reason's people scurried away from his presence alone. If only they had known just how gentle his heart truly was. That his hands, cannot only destroy, but could c r e a t e works of art.
Mindlessly, Makoto kicks a rock along for entertainment. Hands shoved deep within the confines of his pockets. Occassionally looking up to see where he was going and watch the rock tumble along the floor.
A cry of help reaches his ears. He immediately perks up, hands coming out of his pockets as he picks up his pace. Head turning side to side, trying to locate the voice that called out. The more he ran the closer the sounds of panic could be heard. Feet pounding against pavement as his heart accelerated, hoping he would reach her in time.
The last cry indicates the would-be victim was just around the bend. He sticks his arm out as he turns with a closed fist.
His arm makes contact with the closest pursuant. Dropping to the floor with a loud thud and groan. Without a moments hesitation, his leg swings out, aiming for the next's gut as his elbow came crashing down on the back of the other's neck. He side steps, dodging a blow aimed for his face, while his name came launching up and hitting the last in the groin.
He grabs the petite girl by the hand and quickly drags her away. Not daring to take any further chance of them having a weapon and harming either of them.
"Come on, we need to get out of here. Are you hurt?"
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