2970/Setagaya Swindle

Setagaya Swindle
Date of Scene:	11 March 2026
Location:	Masato's Setagaya Property
Synopsis:	Usagi and Mamoru must endure meeting Masato's father in person, while swallowing their feelings about the man in order to aid their friend. Disguised as Rikuto and Serena Yamamoto, the Setagaya Property is finally sold.
Cast of Characters:	Nephrite, Mamoru Chiba, Usagi Tsukino

---

Nephrite has posed:
It had taken some doing, but Masato had managed to push the meeting to early the next morning. It was easy enough to say that the buyer needed to reschedule, as something had come up the previous afternoon, though he was keenly aware of his father's dissatisfaction. His patience was long gone with his son's apparent mishandling of things, to the point that Masahiro's presence was required.

Rather predictably, it was at this point that the man seemed to insist upon Masato's distance from the matter, perhaps as a punishing thing, and that whatever else remained of the house to be cleared out would be handled by professionals instead. The rest? The house could be sold furnished. Whatever Masato hadn't taken care of, already, was clearly beneath notice.

In a show of accepting his father's ire, Masato agreed, and rather convincingly gave his father some false details about the real estate agent. She would meet them there at the property, so the paperwork could be signed if the showing went well.

So it was, that Masato-- heavily disguised by his henshin and shadow-work-- stood waiting at the property gates with a clipboard, in a pencil skirt, tasteful blazer, and brown bun. A congenial smile plastered emptily upon his feminine face.

Beside her, in a pristine business suit of dark navy and houndstooth, tie-clipped and stern, stood Masahiro. The very image of an older Masato with short clipped black hair, and a coldness to his eyes that had not been present since Nephrite's darker days.

"Good morning," Realter-Masato greeted, in a chipper pitch. A true salesperson. "Thank you for joining us. My name is Arakano Sanae. I'll be assisting you today on behalf of Michiyagi Homes."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
In the armor of Rich Guy Vibe, Endymion can be close to untouchable-- but this is a situation where he needs to lie in harmony with Usagi without the ability to hold hands and silently arrange every step of the dance. Because PDAs simply don't happen, they're very rude.

After bowing politely to Sanae, Mamoru bows exactly as deeply as a peer would to Masahiro-- he may be younger, but he could be taking a problem off Masahiro's hands and giving him a lot of money, so he's got a little balance of power thing going on, and knows it.

He's in a darker-than-wine-red and very, very fine wool and silk suit, comfortable and tailored to a precise fit, and his shoes are, as usual, approximately the price of a motorcycle. His gaze is sharp without mask or glasses, and his fluffy hair has been trimmed and tamed, and there's a politely unreadable smile on his face.

"Thank you, Sanae-san. My apologies we weren't able to meet with you yesterday afternoon." He doesn't offer a reason. He doesn't have to.

"It's fortunate that we were both able to reschedule so soon," he adds, turning the polite smile to Masahiro. The smile doesn't reach his eyes. "But it's nice to meet you in person, Sanjouin-san. I am of course Rikuto Yamamoto, and this is my wife, Serena."

There are so many reasons he can't just kill this cold dead fish of a man. This ABSOLUTE CODFISH.

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
Likewise in Rich Lady Vibe alongside Mamoru-as-Tuxedo-Kamen-in-disguise is Usagi, who is Sailor Moon in disguise for this one, hiding her face with her henshin and the veil, leaning on Serenity for more poise, more control, especially over her face, especially over her face, because they are standing before Masahiro, who had at best abandoned his wife to die and at worst sped it along, all for the sake of a new wife, a new venture, trading in a family like an old bike.

They're a unit, together, but they're professionals and eager young people, ready to start a family, wealthy and ready to take away this project from the hands of those ready to release it, and she smiles politely, as she lets Mamoru speak first.

She's dressed conservatively in a silk dress, white on white embroidered details shining in the light, a pale blue woolen jacket covering her shoulders and burst. There's a wedding ring on her hand, gleaming gold. It's not her real wedding ring, but she wears it comfortably.

"We're glad to be able to meet with you both," she says in a quiet, sweet voice, "The property is beautiful."

It was, once, and it will be, again, out of these awful hands, away from this cruel man.

Nephrite has posed:
The bow tells him immediately that, despite the couple's relative youth, the husband is shrewd. A keen horse sense and measured confidence took one a long way in today's globalist world. His blue eyes slide towards the woman, introduced as his wife. It is respectable that he has already married. A good match, by the immediate impression of her. A young man with money and his priorities in order certainly made him seem tolerable-- if only Masato could straighten up a little more like this, the world would be right.

The bow he returns is stiffer, as if he is deeply unaccustomed to bowing below the slightest tilt of his upper body, at most.

"A pleasure," he says with only a fleeting and threadbare quirk of a smile, only on his face as long as it has to be to register. His voice, though, is a deep, smooth thing that is almost deceptively pleasant on its own. "I've been assured that your interest is quite strong, so I am relieved we were still able to find the time before my return to the United States. I wouldn't want to waste any more of your time with further delays, Yamamoto-san."

His chin lifted, hands held behind his back. "I expect that you'll find the property more than suitable for your needs. The area does quite well for professionals," His gaze swept towards Usagi in particular, "And new families, alike."

Sanae gestures to the gate, intent on leading them through. "Shall we?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Honestly in every way poor Masato and his poor mama. Mamoru's skin is crawling. He got used to feeling like it was crawling with wasps on the inside; this is nothing, he can manage his distaste and let it out later.

The former Obsidian businessman and former crown prince knows 'waste any more of your time with further delays' is absolutely an accusation turned around as a disguise. He chooses only to raise an eyebrow at it.

"It is quite strong, yes." Mamoru glances toward Usagi and his smile's faintly more real for a second, but his attention does return to Masahiro. "It does seem to be the most beautiful of the properties available in Setagaya, and we've had our heart set on this neighborhood," he says with a reinvention of the diplomatic smile that hides actual personal hatred.

Amy would hate seeing this.

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
She doesn't hate him, but only because hatred is passionate and deep, and this man isn't worth that. Hatred is a type of madness, and what Usagi feels, tucked away behind her polite smile and demurely lowered eyes, is disgust, dislike.

"The right home is worth the mild delay," she says, peaceable. "We look forward to starting our family, and the right home is foundational."

This house is the one they want, this house that he owns, and she thinks that a man like him, who bows as though the reciprocal politeness wounds him, would appreciate that they want what he has - but also that they can take from him what he no longer wants. Mutual benefit.

Masahiro gestures for them to follow, and Usagi walks a half-step behind Mamoru, playing into the expectation, keeping an eye on the older man from behind.

She's lying with every facet of herself.

Nephrite has posed:
"With the Tama river right by us and these trees lining the property, it's quite peaceful, year round. Very little noise, and good privacy." Masahiro noted, striding at a measured pace that was neither hurried nor slow. "A secluded and safe place to raise children, I assure you."

Well, unless they run off to be criminals inspired by American cinema, but that was neither here nor there.

Sanae held the clipboard closer to her chest and attempted to play the part. "Close to the station, as well! Twenty minutes to Shinjuku, twenty five to Shibuya, on the Odakyu Odawara line--"

"Forgive me," Masahiro interjected, peering over his shoulder at Mamoru as they walked down the lengthy driveway. "My son neglected to tell me... what is your occupation, Yamamoto-san?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
This man is making it necessary for Usagi to act like that and it's a symptom of this man thriving on punching down-- so right now, yes, Mamoru hates him viscerally and would like to do him violence: it's an active, ongoing harm Masahiro is currently engaging in, and moreover, Usagi is acting like that-- it's just acting it's only acting. It's not fun acting, though. That makes him angry as well.

It's good for making him less pleasant to interact with, at any rate. Fuel that unpleasantness. What's the worst possible thing he could answer right now, the worst insidious--? Oh no.

"I'm in AI," says Yamamoto with a decidedly smug pleasure, "but my day job is in wealth management for now."

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
"Yes, it's a lovely area," Usagi agrees, "With plenty of room on the grounds, too, for children to run around and play, explore in the safety of home."

She's playing a part that isn't hers, but one which is easy to copy, not from her own house (her mother has NEVER been the obedient wife, ruling their household as she does) but from movies, television, even manga and comics, plenty of inspiration for a 'good obedient wife' mask.

It's not fun, and she dislikes this petty, small man who had ruined a woman's life and then chased away his son and doesn't even seem to feel bad about any of it, but reminding herself that it's for Masato helps.

The fact that Mamoru hates it just as much as she does helps too. She can see it in the tightness of his mouth at the corners, the crispness in his movements, the way the words sound as they escape him. He's mad.

Nephrite has posed:
Even the diguised Masato nearly skips a step at Mamoru's answer, clutching tightly at the clipboard. It feels good to hug something-- especially the paperwork that's going to free them from this charade.

Masahiro's head turns in a slow manner, eyeing the young professional with an imperious, if curious, look. He merely hums at first, considerately. His lack of immediate reply isn't entirely comforting, but a roll of his shoulders seem to set the man's gaze forward again.

"I see. An overly sharpened sword will cut the hands of those who polish it most, they say." He inclined his head. "I think that any worthwhile tool must simply find the hands it is best suited to, to be used well and without too much fanfare or reverence."

When he pauses near the home, this statement is punctuated by an almost insidiously thin smile. "Do you enjoy gardening, Mrs. Yamamoto?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Thank you, sir," says 'Rikuto', smoothly deferential for a moment in a way Masato never would have been to this man, but very calculatedly so: not enough to lose face, but enough to show he respects his elders. "I do find that one must, at all times, have resources at the ready should a venture fail. And good timing." ( ...I'll protect myself of course, I will be on one of those Titanic lifeboats. I'm like you. I'm like you. Believe it.)

He crosses his arms loosely behind his back, looking around with interest-- and then he does something sssssooooo baaaaaadddddd, he's looking away from Masahiro and at Usagi, and Masato can see what his eyebrows do, he is *pleading* with her. It doesn't show up in his voice, his voice is cold.

"Her? Garden?" 'Rikuto' snorts, talking over anything 'Serena' would say just to belittle her and take her voice. "She can't keep a head of lettuce alive on the way home from the store. We'll get landscapers to handle it," he says, laughing easily as he turns back to Masahiro, the kind of camaraderie he figures misogynists share.

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
'Serena' lowers her head, quickly, so that Masahiro, Masato, and Mamoru are all equally unable to see her face, particularly the frustrated twitch of her brows at first the question and then the interruption.

Heerenity, serenity - not that kind of Serenity, she hastily catches herself, feeling warmth build in her chest - the other kind of serenity, peace and calm and smooth face, unbothered by the casual misogyny of a husband who would disregard her, that's just talk -

"Yes," her voice is admirably composed. "My husband is correct, I've simply no hand at that."

Nephrite has posed:
For perhaps the first time since they have met this man, Masahiro's smile seems almost sincere. He laughs, and it is a rich, deep tone from the center of his chest, but understated. Even his amusement is clipped.

"Of course." He nods to 'Serena', then. "I'm sure you can appreciate the beauty of a good thing, nonetheless. You seem like a woman with an eye for quality." His gaze shifts, face like stone again. Expectant. "Sanae-san?"

Masato feels as if his intestines have formed a knot, having shot Usagi a particularly mortified look in between. "Ah-- Yes," He just can't let that stand. His father isn't even going to open the front door for anyone. Pressing lips together and pushing the door wide to usher them inwards. The foyer now appearing quite tidy and usual, even the dried flowers are back in their vase. Chaos hidden.

"As it happens, Mr. Sanjouin's wife-- the late Sanjouin Kaede, who was very sought after in this area--" He was certain to mention 'late wife', there, "Was a bonsai specialist and private landscape artist. As a unique feature, the house includes an enclosed atrium at the back of the home, and feature garden of her distinctive design style."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru, skin absolutely crawling, finally steps aside to treat Usagi as the pretty and delicate and helpless flower wives are supposed to be, but, thank god, it's showing her some kind of deference, and thank every god ever it involves handing her over the threshold.

With his bare hand.

(He's so anxious. This is so gross. He's so sorry. He is casually fucking furious and it keeps making him think he's overdoing it-- and then it turns out to work, which just makes him more mad.) What he's looking for...

He figures Usagi has the next few moves plotted out in her head like a chess board and he'd like to know what move he needs to make. If she has a mental cribsheet.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss," he says automatically, then frowns, looking toward the back of the house, then back toward his wife. "Serena, don't you have a friend who gardens..?"

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
"I've always had an appreciation for beauty," 'Serena' says, a hint of something true in her voice, as they step over the threshold, 'Rikuto' behind her, a hand reaching for him, holding their hands together.

She passes the feeling of 'I've got this', and confidence, and aching want and pretty please big eyes and the desire to give her just, anything, everything -

And she steps into the house, prettied up with magic and spins slowly, the skirt of her dress flaring, her eyes all big and hopeful as she takes it all in.

"It's beautiful," she breathes, and it is, but more importantly, "I'm so sorry for your loss, Sanjouin-san, but though I've no hand with flowers, my husband is right, my dearest friend loves flowers, she's always been so good with them, and she'll surely be able to recommend such excellent gardeners, someone who can restore it, and it will be such a lovely place to host parties, for all your business partners, and for my friends to see what a lovely home we have... oh, please, please Rikuto, you'll buy it for us, won't you? It's just so... perfect. The perfect place to raise a family in."

It's not, but if there's one thing a misogynist can understand it's the desire to provide for a pretty young thing pleading.

Nephrite has posed:
Masahiro razes the disguised Masato with a look that he knows well-- the sort given to somebody who has spoken out of turn or said more than necessary. It's covert and well delivered, and it is amazing how strongly it still cuts him. But the true defiance is in the sunroom they're standing in now. The woman's picture sitting neatly upon the modern looking Kamidana.

Even as Sanae, it let's Masato keep his head up. He can see the set of his father's jaw and the slight squaring of his shoulders. The masterful way that he covers his displeasured temper, for what will surely be another black mark on his son's record. Not removing such a sentimental and personal thing before the showing.

Well, Masato thought, such is the price of taking it out of his hands. Facing the woman, one last time. Letting her watch him unknowingly sign it back to them.

Already, Masato can tell his friends are at their absolute limits. What had been set up, Usagi was masterfully gearing up to knock down. It was almost painful to watch, but it did seem to coincide nicely with Masahiro's already thinning patience.

The older man smoothed his suit with a hand, thinking it favourable that nothing more was said of the deceased. "Indeed. You'll have plenty of space to entertain." He cleared his throat, glancing to 'Rikuto'. "Perhaps we should indulge a woman's intuition, here, Yamamoto-san, and call it early. Save ourselves some time. What do you think?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The flood of relief at Usagi's sense of "having it" is palpable. To Usagi, anyway. She's the one briefly holding her husband's hand.

Mamoru's the one looking at Usagi like he would too give her the world-- and he glances over Sanae-san briefly, expression momentarily as serene as his wife's old real name.

Rikuto turns from Serena and Sanae-san back to Masahiro, looking kind of WELP, affectionate and shaking his head. "Well. At least she knows I'd do anything to keep her happy," he says with a put-upon mock-sigh, then laughs.

"Treasure for my treasure," the young professional says, his gaze skimming Kaede's portrait as he looks back to Usagi and smiles.

Finally he takes a step toward Sanae-san and holds his hands out. "Sanjouin-san can see the writing on the wall. Where do I sign?"

Usagi Tsukino has posed:
"What a lovely tribute," 'Serena' says, as she takes note of the picture of Masato's mother, deliberately misreading Masahiro's tension, his squaring shoulders and hard-set jaw. She bows, slightly, politely, to the display, "Honoring her this way, it's touching, Sanjouin-san. Truly, this is not merely a house, but a home."

She is sure he will not say anything, and she doesn't need him to: there is no gracious way to decline an honor. Instead, she flows through the house, all skirts and silk, drifting through the room, glancing around corners.

"Thank you, darling," 'Serena' smiles and dips her head at 'Rikuto', "You indulge me so."

Nephrite has posed:
Masahiro's hands were pocketed, and all he offered 'Serena' was a terse smile, a hum, and a slight lift of his chin.

'Sanae' bowed, deeper than was perhaps usual, and toward the disguised married couple. Masato felt like his whole body was tingling, as if he could go numb at any moment. Whatever he felt was far too powerful to name, but at the very least, it encompassed gratitude and no shortage of relief.

"I've prepared all the necessary paperwork, if you're quite sure, Yamamoto-san. Please, if you'll join me to the dining area," An arm swung gracefully towards it, now in its proper place with a modern kitchen beyond it, "We'll go over all the necessary documents together."

It wouldn't take terribly much longer. When it came time for signatures, a fountain pen provided names and personal stamps were put down.

Masahiro's name was signed true, activating a very specific spell upon him-- Masato liked to think of it as a clause in the fine print, and fair game since his father had been the one to bring magic into it first. This one last trick of Nephrite's making would shield Chiba Mamoru's legal name and stamp from his father's awareness.

The stars twinkled in the heavens, watching over the fate of the house, and obscured the truth. A gentle breeze swept through Kaede's garden.

To Masahiro's eyes only, the dotted line would read only 'Yamamoto Rikuto'.