Sailor Moon Fic: seasons of theory
I don't even know guys. In celebration of meeting tosca1390, for an overdue round of feelings and beverages, I figure it was only appropriate. I just have all these feelings though, you guys, and I feel like singing Celine and investing a wind machine because I forgot how much I really love this series and the manga and how my feelings are really just a big pool of feelings for both. And Criminal Minds is on. So there's that too. Anyways. To Emma and her bad self.
seasons of theory
this is not a race; she grows and grows and grows and only then, do they all start watching.
sailor moon | usagi/mamoru | general series one spoilers | 7,000 words, PG
-
Something changes.
Her mother stands at the sink. The water is running and each time she finishes with a dish, it hits the counter with particular sound - hard enough to be a crack but not quite enough to be anything else.
But Usagi is quiet, maybe too quiet. She sits at the kitchen counter, studying her mother and her hands and the way they seem to work underneath the water. They're so careful, she thinks. It's an odd sort of thing to notice, how careful her mother's hands are with something so small like the dishes. Her mother starts to hum too, soft and off-placed, her voice filling the kitchen. Usagi wonders if she knows she's still here.
"Mama," she starts slowly, and her mother's hands still under the water. "Mama," she says again. "Did I ever want to be a princess?"
Her mother laughs, but doesn't turn. "Where is this coming from, sweetheart?"
"I don't know," she says. Her expression falls into a frown. "But isn't that what most little girls want to be? A princess?"
"You're still a little girl, Usa-chan," her mother says, and it's then that she turns, her gaze soft. It forces a lump into Usagi's throat and she can't quite turn her gaze away from her mother's, from the way her mouth almost wrinkles when she smiles. There is something in her eyes too and it's not the first time that she's noticed, the way her mother's eyes stay that odd color of gray and how she knows too much that her own eyes are too, too blue.
She manages to shake her head. She's careful. "I know."
They're quiet though and Usagi is almost afraid that she's said more than she needed to, even if the question feels just like a question, simple and otherwise. It's her mother that clears her throat still, and then suddenly it's not the water but the television in the other room, Shingo and her father's voice starting to settle close by.
Her mother turns away. "No," she says. "You never were that little girl."
The hardest part for them is taking everything Luna says and accepting it. They were other people once - the idea of reincarnated souls doesn't sit particularly well with Rei, knowing that someone or something is keeping her from being complete. It's the fact that there's a Princess too and all of them are expected to function because of her. Usagi doesn't understand where she fits most of all; the others are more prominent in Luna's memories as it is.
On Saturday, they are all dragged awake by an attack near the shrine and it's Makoto that sneaks them outside without any disturbances.
"Some old habits are way too handy," she grins too, and Rei scoffs while Ami and Usagi just sort of trudge to the front.
They can't transform. It's late, but it's not too late and as soon as they start walking into the city sidewalk, the panic of people is enough to hide them as they move forward.
It's Usagi that drags them into an alley just before the spot; they are framed by the heavy growls of the youma and then the sudden scream of a nearby woman. Makoto transforms first, then Rei and Usagi - Ami's already disappeared around the corner to prep and catch the scene.
"You can't go too much," Rei says to Makoto. "You're too strong for this area."
She's cool and effortless, her eyes flashing when they hear another scream. Usagi is quiet. They watch Makoto bound off. There is no sign of Luna either. She forces herself to swallow again, under another scream.
Her fingers press against Rei's wrist. "You too," she says. The other girl looks at her in surprise. "Your attacks are much faster than Makoto-chan's too. You got hurt the last time."
She tries to soften her gaze. Her hair whips against her throat and the transformation isn't quite complete, the heaviness of her gloves starting to dig into her skin. Rei usually reads right through her, but there's no time and the other girl offers her a quick smile, hurrying after Makoto to pick a side. It's up to Usagi to linger though, to lean back against the wall and take that extra deep breath.
It ends with her anyway.
Her biggest secret is that she started dreaming long before this, long before there needed to be a distinction that a memory was a memory and some things were just meant to be pictures in her head.
She tells no one, of course. Sometimes Luna catches her mid-dream, mid-nightmare, a few names digging into her throat as she tries to cry them out. Once it was mama. It's different because she's older now and it's not okay for her to open her eyes and pad down the hall, tuck herself between her parents and close her eyes so that it feels like nothing exists. She remembers tastes and sounds. She remembers the feel of a woman's hand, how cups her cheek, how her lips feel against her forehead, how sad i'm so sorry seems.
She remembers gardens too, or the occasional dish, how sweet certain things taste and she's not supposed to remember tasting - only because she's never had them at all. She is someone else, in her dreams, and too worn, too drawn, and waiting for something that she can only being to try and understand.
There is one thing that she does accept though. There never was supposed to be a Senshi of the Moon.
"Moon!" Rei screams, and her back hits the wall hard, her leg twisting as the arm of the youma wraps around her waist.
She throws her head back and blood is already lining her mouth, the youma's breath starting to sink against her throat. She doesn't fight back - no, no, not yet and there's some kind of plan that she has to adhere to. She remembers that this youma is a person. That there are the crystals; it's always hard to forget the crystals.
When it starts to laugh, nuzzling her neck, Usagi twists her head so that her fingers, just barely, have to reach and pry her tiara off of her head. It comes off with a snap and she jams it as hard as she can into the neck of the youma.
It stumbles back with a loud, awful cry. It makes her ears lurch and the bile start to rise from the back of her throat. She's stumbles and scatters to her knees, the dirt and pavement scrapping at her skin. There's a tear too and Rei - no Ami - is crying out for someone to do something. Usagi doesn't know.
Her ears are ringing.
His arm finds itself around her waist, just as Makoto throws another attack at the youma. It's so strange to watch; the light explodes and hits the side of the building grazing the side of the monster and forcing some of the walls to come down.
"You're okay," he breathes into her ear, and it's hard to hear otherwise - Tuxedo Mask is Tuxedo Mask and there's no time to accept anything outside of that.
He pulls them to a wall, high enough so that she can steady herself. She hears Rei throw another attack behind her now; the scene underneath them is unraveling into chaos. It's Ami that cries out next and something cracks, not quite as awful as bones but something closer to glass. She's fuzzy and thinks of windows.
"You're too good at this," she mutters and it's the best kind of apology that she can up with she thinks. "Sorry," she breathes too, and burrows herself against his chest.
He laughs, but she doesn't look to see if he smiles. She pulls herself away from his embrace, steading her knees against the ledge of the building. It's Rei and Makoto this time, at the same time, their attacks lacing together as Ami manages a weak fog. They're all tired. These attacks are as frequent enough as it is.
"Moon," Tuxedo Mask warns.
Her teeth sink into her lip. She can taste the blood again.
"Moon."
She growls. "Just a second," she manages too, and when the attacks hit the youma, it falls back hard into the building. She sees the rose in its shoulder and digs her fingers into her side, before reaching for her tiara again.
Usagi throws it as hard as she can.
The girls are long gone. In a little while, she'll follow too. Tonight's youma was an elderly man, confused and bruised as Makoto guided him away from the scene.
She stays at the ledge because Tuxedo Mask is still here, still waiting, and she's the only one that can stand long enough and protect the other girls' identities. She leans shakily against the brick and forces herself to cross her arms against her chest.
"I won't ask," he says.
"Good," she says too. They both know it's a lie. He'll ask about the crystals.
The lines of his mouth seem to soften. "You did well tonight," he says. "All of you. You're getting better and better working together."
"This isn't like you," she murmurs. Her cheeks flush. She can't decide if it sounds like something she needs to hear. The truth is, and it's there, he's been lingering back more and more and she's been opening herself to something. Rubbing her eyes, she looks at him wearily. "I mean, I appreciate it -"
"I want to talk about the crystals."
And there, there it is. He doesn't blurt it out, but it just stills everything. This is the point that continues to separate him and her, the one that makes Luna linger a little too long each time she stays behind. The other girls, they're trusting her, but Usagi doesn't know how long she can keep this up.
She inches away from him and he shifts forward, watching her as she fumbles with her hands and her uniform. She can feel her hair as it sticks to her neck and throat and she turns, just enough to look away and take a long, lazy breath.
"You know my answer," she says. Her voice catches and she's uncomfortable. "And I know yours - as much as I want to … agree on something. I'm guessing you're just going to keep pushing the issue as it is."
"You're worried."
Her eyes narrow. "And why wouldn't I be?"
"I -" he runs a hand through his hair. His mask catches at his nose and she straightens, her mouth thinning into a tight line. "It's not going to effect us. Our goals just happen to mix and until you -"
"- give the crystals up." She takes a step back. "I shouldn't be talking to you," she says. "I should go. And I don't really need to repeat the same thing about not giving you the crystals. I just thought - I thought that talking to you - you don't see what I see. You're so focused on finding your princess and this mission that you forget there's the rest of us, fighting the same fight, the same people and you just say it's not going to effect us. I'm not giving you our crystals."
It sort of spills and she's clapping her hands over her mouth, her eyes closing tightly. She's never admitted this out loud to anyone - to Luna, to the girls - and it hurts. Her eyes are burning and she listens to him to take a step forward.
His hand brushes her cheek and she's breathing hard. She won't look at him, even as his fingers start to work their way through her hair, through her bangs and then back, back along the line of her jaw. She thinks he's trying to reassure her or get her comfortable - Luna's voice is in her head and she knows that she's not supposed to trust him.
"I'm sorry," he tells her. "You know I am."
Everything is heavy. Everything is too heavy. It's different, this time. It sounds different. Her heart starts to twist and it's hitting her again, the difference between being Usagi and being Sailor Moon. She can't talk to anyone and it's all about missions and plans and keeping everything settled so that they can find this stupid Princess. She doesn't care. She doesn't want to care
"You should go," she says softly.
It takes a minute. He still listens.
The girls don't ask about the conversation; it's an unspoken rule. She is the last to leave Rei's in the morning, struggling with her bag until Rei helps slide it unto her shoulder.
"Make sure you ice it," she says softly. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? Grandfather will be away until the evening."
Usagi shakes her head. "I'm just going to go home."
They smile at each other: Rei's is terse, too tight, and worried and Usagi is barely there. It still carries her down the stairs and back into the sidewalk where the crowds are starting to thicken with the weekend rush. She doesn't really want to go home. The excuses are starting to feel the same again; there is only so many times she can go and say i fell before her mother looks at her and knows. She never wanted to be a liar anyway.
It's the Arcade that comes into view though and with a sigh, Usagi feels her feet sort of take that path anyway. Her fingers are gripping her bag and Motoki, at the door and cleaning the glass, manages to offer a kind smile.
"Fun night with the girls?"
Usagi lets her smile change. "Definitely," she says. He grins and she adds a little laugh. "It's always fun when it's the weekend anyway."
He lets her in and says something about a milkshake. She nods and takes one of the stools at the end of the corner, letting her bag drop unceremoniously at her feet. It's small talk after that. Motoki asks about the girls, even though they both know they'll all be in again at some point again. It's strange really, how their patterns seem to unravel at a certain way - the youma attacks are getting longer and harder and the only place they call think about going to is the small corner where the Arcade is.
When he comes back though, he sets the milkshake in front of her. She isn't really hungry and behind her, the doors open to a group of kids. Someone says something about the Sailor V game and she feels Motoki's eyes settle on her, watching and waiting for her reaction.
"Still waking up," she offers with a blush.
"Of course you are."
Motoki laughs and she sits up, her eyes narrowing as Mamoru takes the seat next to her. He stretches out, his long legs hitting her bag as he places his books on the counter. They're shoved neatly into a pile and she can only manage to shake her head.
"Of course you would," she throws back.
He laughs and Motoki disappears to get his coffee. Black, she thinks. He always takes his coffee black. On Tuesdays, when it's after class, there's a little bit of sugar and Mamoru doesn't like anything too sweet. He doesn't need to know that she knows this; she's learning to gauge his moods by his drink, not by the weight of what he's decided to tease her with today.
"Little early for a milkshake," he comments.
"Do I have to ask your permission to have it?" she half-snaps. Her voice is sharp. "I don't talk to you about the amount of coffee you drink."
"Two cups," he says.
"Three." He looks at her in surprise. She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to hide a blush. "At least," she says, "you've been drinking that much lately." She almost groans, wondering why she can't just simply lie about the smaller things. Her fingers curl around her straw and she starts stirring the whipped cream into the milkshake. "Anyway," she covers herself. "I don't judge you, so."
"Good to know."
She catches the tail end of his smile, odd as it may be, and easily distracted by Motoki who comes back to talk about some kind of party with his friend. She doesn't say anything, turning her gaze back to the small group that seems to settle around some of the games.
She's tired today.
Her shoulder starts to ache by the time she gets ready to leave. She struggles with her bag, the pain digging against her shoulder and now her neck as well.
"Usa-chan?" Motoki catches her, watching her worriedly. She flashes a terse smile. "Do you need any help?" he asks too.
"No, no," she says.
She manages to wave her hand and stumble out with a goodbye. Her fingers are digging into the strap of her bag as she settles onto the sidewalk. She could go back to Rei's, she thinks. She knows that her parents won't mind. Somewhere she remembers something about her brother's baseball game and dinner with friends.
But she has to do something.
"Let me."
His hand is on hers, then the strap of her bag before she realizes it's Mamoru standing next to her, watching her with a mix of concern and something else, something she can't quite seem to place. She feels her cheeks warm and sort of draws back to let him take the bag, unable to really bring herself to argue as it is.
"Thanks," she mumbles.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"I - " She could say back to Rei's, she thinks. She should. But her mouth opens and closes first. "I don't know," she says. "I don't really want to go home."
He frowns.
She can't look at him though and she doesn't understand the mild, unsettling feeling of panic and hope. It's such an odd pairing and she's never really had time to think about Mamoru outside the capacity that they always run into each other - arguments, more arguments, the girls and Motoki, and nothing more.
But she can feel the tears start to rush, her eyes burning as she forces herself to take a deep breath and then another one. Her teeth bite at her lip. Her tongue twists at the roof of her mouth and maybe, maybe everything is finally starting to hit her now.
Mamoru's hand brushes hers. "Come on," he says.
The memory is usually too simple; every once in awhile, they'll have an argument and she'll think back with a blush at how absent and how hard she threw that paper and how that test makes everything. It's stupid and silly and there's a part of her that knows she's going to have to stop holding onto that one, tireless aspect of something that seems too relative and too normal. It is not about not wanting to grow up.
There are other memories too, memories of how easy it'll be to catch herself looking at him, at wondering and knowing and not even realizing it. Sometimes she catches herself smiling at him. Sometimes he says something and it's around the other girls and she's got to hide how breathless it makes her. It's a flutter. It's a simple flush. Sometimes it's much more serious and serious in a way that she's not entirely sure it should be, or how unsettling it is that she is not surprised that it gets like this - It's all of these things.
This happens a lot, you see, thinking about Mamoru.
Usagi barely lets it register: this is his apartment. It doesn't hit her until she is sitting on his couch, her legs tucked underneath her as she takes the glass of water he hands her before sitting down next to her too. She stares aimlessly at the rim.
"What happened?" he asks gently, and she tries to take in everything around her, the blues and dark layers, the walls with generic pictures and the clean, too clean counters and tables that seem just like him. There are books everywhere too and music and she should be overwhelmed, sitting here and finally being exposed to Mamoru in this way.
But her fingers press hard into her glass. "I can't tell you," she says.
"Usagi."
She wants to laugh. It's the most honest she has been with anyone. She can feel the weight of it in her voice, how the words still seem to linger and taste. She feels too old without doing anything and that's the scariest part of all of this to her.
"Did someone hurt you?" he asks, and her gaze snaps up, her mouth set into a frown. He studies her. "I know you're clumsy," he teases, but then that sobers quickly. "But you can talk to me. Sometimes it's better to talk to someone who isn't close to you."
She shakes her head. "No one hurt me," she says. Her voice catches. "I wish I could tell you," she says then too, and then she's talking without any filter, not thinking about what she's saying. "I wish sometimes it was as simple as someone saying to me you can tell me and that I can just … I can do that. But it's not that simple and you're not just anyone, Mamoru-kun. You're you and I'm me and I'm so tired right now."
It isn't until his fingers curl around her chin that she realizes that she's crying. His thumb sweeps against the line of her jaw and her lips part as she meets his gaze. He blurs briefly and her cheeks feel a little wet.
"I don't want to cry in front you," she mumbles.
His mouth curls. "I won't tell," he says, and then he draws her forward, taking the glass from her hand.
It goes to a table, somewhere behind her and she feels him pull her into his side, letting her press under his arm. She closes her eyes tightly and then his fingers curl into her hair. They don't move. They just seem to linger until his thumb starts to stroke circles.
There is nothing reassuring about the moment. Her voice cracks. Then it's a sob, stumbling out of her mouth as she remembers the youma from the night before and Tuxedo Mask's strange, strange devotion to a cause that she's supposed to just accept and get. She wants to be angry at him too because he seems to hold himself to the questions and she can barely keep it together, let alone let herself to react in such away that isn't anything but confusion. She's sad too because at the end of the day, she and the girls are just girls and somehow, all of this, is taking that away.
"I don't like to see you sad," he murmurs. His mouth brushes against her hair and her eyes open slowly. "I saw you walking towards the Arcade - you could just tell. I know I'm the last person that you want to fix things, but - I just don't like to see you sad."
"Mamoru -" she breathes out, then stops herself as she lifts her head. She meets his gaze and he's serious, maybe too serious. She doesn't know what to do with him like this. She's not good at this. "I don't -"
He leans down to kiss her.
It just sort of happens; her mind replays the slight jerk in his posture, the way his hand seems to still at the back of her neck as his mouth opens over hers and she just sighs back into his mouth. She feels her hand rise and curl in his shirt and the position is sort of tight and awkward, her knees pressing into her leg.
Then she makes a soft sound. It's her mouth that opens wider, her tongue pressing lightly against his lip as he just growls. He's greedy and she's flushed and there's something about the kiss that's too hot, too desperate, and completely unlike anything she's ever found herself thinking about. It unravels slowly in her though, and somewhere, that feeling of being stuck in between herself and something else starts to surface. She feels like she's been here before, waiting for this kind of moment.
It's what makes her push herself up onto her knees and then his arm is wrap around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She's straddling his legs and her skirt sort of flutters out, her hand sliding into his hair. She's kissing him harder and her teeth grasping at his lip, making him sigh against her mouth. She did that, she thinks. She did. There's this kind of reverence that comes with that thought and then he says her name against her mouth.
His fingers brush against the locket at her throat. The communicator in her bag starts to beep.
They stare at each other.
She doesn't know how long she lets the communicator go until Makoto's voice breaks, panicked and breathless, until the small compact is in her hand and she's scrambles back, her knees aching and her lips wet and bruised. The locket around her neck finally makes itself known; it dangles and hits the front of her blouse, open and hanging between the two of them.
Mamoru's eyes are dark. He stands slowly.
"Usagi!"
Her fingers curl around the locket at her throat. She cannot pull her gaze away from Mamoru. He seems to be waiting. Her stomach is starting to build its knots, tightening slowly as that familiar, ugly sensation of knowing starts to pick at her. It's there and then it's there again, picking at her.
"You should get that," he says softly, and she feels herself nod. Her eyes aren't burning. She doesn't cry. She doesn't ask.
Somewhere between park and Rei's voice joining Makoto on the communicator, Mamoru moves steps forward. She jerks her shoulders back, straightening and ignoring the throbbing pain that seems to slowly work itself back into picking at her body.
It hits her then, all those little things, all those millions of little things that she's caught and noticed and told herself that she's completely crazy for thinking that similarities are just similarities and coincidences. But it's not just her, it's the girls too and the off-handed comments that they've all made here and there when it comes to Mamoru.
She doesn't say the words. She doesn't say his name. She manages to keep herself set tall and look calm, even though she's starting to unravel inside, piece by piece. She can taste him too and her mouth is still very, very warm and instead of feeling completely terrified, she finds herself facing a resignation that's never been there before. And he knows.
"You know," she accuses softly.
His mouth twists. "So do you," he says. "I was waiting for you to catch up."
She flinches. "So this was just - " her fingers curl around her locket " - you were just trying to - I don't even know what to say to you."
"Nothing," he tells her.
It doesn't matter who transform first. There were roses at the door.
The park is dark. There is a light layer of fog and she is torn between thinking Ami and the sudden, strange change in the weather. Her heart is racing when she finally drops, knee to the ground in the middle of a fight between Rei and the youma. The front of Rei's uniform is torn and she's shaking, mouthing something off about Makoto and on the other side.
"They've never attacked at multiple points!" she cries out, and all Usagi can do is catch the end of the attack, pushing the other girl away and hard.
They fall into the grass and her knees scrape into the dirt. There's a slight, sharp cut in the air and the youma howls. Usagi looks up in time to catch the rose.
"Not me!" she snarls. She cannot think about it. She won't think about it. "Go help Makoto!" she yells too and ignores Rei's look as she helps the other girl to her feet. I can take care of this, she thinks. I can. They want a leader.
Her mouth is burning.
It never occurs to her that he listens to her until Makoto comes barreling in with an attack, catching her around the waist as Rei lets out another one of hers.
They're both bleeding and her friend throws a sharp grin in greeting, Usagi rolling away from her so that she can end it again. They move with each other - she, Rei, Ami, Makoto - and to the point where things are now relying more and more on instinct. At some point, they'll talk about leaders but right now, now, Usagi can not think about doing her best.
She sees the crystal before all of them.
When it started, it used to be nothing more than glimmer, underneath the layers and layers of the person that the Dark Kingdom buried underneath the youma. It's right there though and the voices are starting to dull into a murmur, Ami's cries for the girls to reset their attacks and try all over again.
She doesn't know how she knows, or how she knows to sort of peel herself back, completely aware that Tuxedo Mask is here and waiting and a new, different kind of fight is about to explode right in front of everyone.
"Mars," she says softly.
They are still close enough where Rei can hear her, where Makoto can handle the brunt of the attacks and Ami maximizes their time by adding some of her arm. Rei limps to here and they all know that Usagi can't just join until it's an opening, a real opening.
"I need you," she says, staring at the crystal. It's right there, embedded at the heart of whatever the youma/human is. The arms are too long and the teeth are too wide and she swears, swears that it's because they're pulling from their own nightmares. "I need you to buy me enough time," she says.
"Usa -"
She shakes her head. "There's a crystal."
Rei's eyes brighten in understanding, her mouth settling into grim determination. They both pull on each other's energy; Rei squeezes her arm.
"You're getting better," she says.
It takes everything she has not to cry. The words should feel different from Rei; instead it's shapeless and hollow. The brief, sharp touch of her mouth and the sudden image of how stupid that kiss was, how it might have given everything away - it doesn't matter, before or after, how he knows. She just doesn't want to know. The words aren't supposed to hurt that much. But Usagi forces a smile too and pulls herself back.
The reminder is enough to press her into remembering that he's still here.
The rush gets her to the crystal first, and the sharp skidding of gravel against her skin and knee is another reminder that she's still, still very alive and very human. She doesn't look back to see the youma fall or how her tiara suddenly finds her outstretched hand.
But he's there, oh he's there, and his arm is not without familiar uncertainty around her waist as he sweeps her up and carries her onto a nearby building. Rei's cry is the loudest and she wraps her fist around the crystal as tight as she can.
When he puts her down, she stumbles onto her knees and jerks back, cradling the rock to her chest and watching him wearily.
It's not the first time she's thought about Tuxedo Mask and Mamoru - those thoughts have been too small to be anything but thoughts, or too silly and lazy to press into concern. She's never brought it up to the girls or to Luna and maybe, maybe it was just instinct after all.
She leans back on her knees and he stands too tall, too curious, reaching up to peel his mask away from his face. His eyes are dark, just like they were back in his apartment, and she feels her mouth set back into a frown.
"Was this the plan?" she hears herself ask.
"No."
The crystal in her hand is starting to glow. She pulls it out between them, staring at it. Her gaze is hard and she almost wants to give it to him, completely defiant against whatever is driving them both to this place.
"I'm not going to ask," she murmurs. "I don't want to know how you knew or how long you've known. You have your mission. I have my friends and family to protect."
"I understand," he says flatly.
She scoffs. "Do you?" she pushes herself to stand and every bone in her body is screaming; it unravels in her arms and legs and her gaze darkens when she looks at him. "Because you think I'm going to give you the crystal and then we'll just be set - now that I know you're Mamoru and you know who I am." She holds up the crystal. "This," she snarls. "This is about protecting my friends and family too."
"We're no different," he murmurs.
Her heart is in her throat and she looks away, touching her mouth. It happens slowly, the pull of what feels like a memory. She can smell the roses and hates them. She feels lonely and sad and wants to go somewhere, somewhere that's like home. But nothing feels like home.
"I don't want to fight you, Usagi," he says too. She listens to him take a step forward. Then it's another; he stops in front of her, too close to her, his fingers curling around her wrist. "I never, ever want to fight you, Usagi. But this is just something I need to do."
"I wish I could believe like you," she says. "And just as hard."
He gives a short, little laugh. The sound is hard. She feels his fingers start to pick at her own and one by one, they come off the crystal. He's gentle, maybe too gentle, and the crystal starts to lose some of its weight. She never knows what they feel like - are they smooth, are they cold - and deep down, there's something else, something more important to focus on.
"You don't want to be like me," he murmurs, and the crystal drops into his palm. She looks down, studying it and then up at him. He sounds so sad when he says it. It's resignation. It seems to always be resignation.
She knows Luna's going to be angry. She knows the girls will be easily placated by her stories of falling or dropping the crystal. Rei might be harder. She knows that. Rei is always hard, despite the teasing, because Usagi has never been able to hide much from her as it is. It's how she takes a step back and how she touches her mouth with her gloves again, ignoring the rueful sort of smile on his mouth as she meets his gaze.
The crystal seems to dim, but she ignores it. "You got what you want," she says.
"I never wanted to be a princess," Ami says.
They sit at one of the tables towards the back, Makoto next to her and Rei next to Usagi. Usagi finds her thoughts going in and out and when the girls laugh, she offers a tiny smile, forcing herself to filter back into the conversation.
"Me either," she admits quietly, and everyone turns to look at her in surprise. There's a faint blush on her cheeks and she can't bring herself to look at them, ignoring Luna too as she bites lightly at her ankles underneath the table.
It's Rei's concern that makes her easy and she forces her gaze to turns towards the counters where Motoki and Mamoru are sitting, in low conversation. He's already talked to Rei and she hasn't missed any of the small glances that Mamoru has thrown towards her.
She's sad, she thinks. She's sad and disappointed in a way that feels bigger than her. Somewhere inside of her she is ready to give that up to growing up, but it also feels like that it belongs to something else. The mantra is still the same in her head: she gave a crystal up. But she doesn't know what she's going to do.
"I don't know what I wanted to be," she adds. "My mother can't remember - I think I asked her about it the other day. I just know … I never had any desire to be one."
Rei tugs at her pigtail. "Completely out of character, no?"
Makoto laughs too. "Right? I figure, if there's anyone who wanted to be a princess it would be you, Usa-chan - and whole-heartedly. You're the most romantic out of all of us."
She smiles tightly. Sometimes she wishes that were still true.
"I think I just wanted to be happy," she says quietly, and across from her Ami seems to soften, nodding in agreement. "Weird, right? That's the only thing I can remember. Wanting to be happy and have the people around me be happy too."
Rei smiles first.
The girls are gone when he finally sits with her - next to her, not across from her - and it takes everything in Usagi to ignore Motoki's grin.
"What did you say to him?" she asks. Luna is gone too, off with Ami to discuss a few things - she wasn't paying any attention as it is. All she knows now that Mamoru is sitting next to her and he's too close, the weight of elbow digging lightly into her hip.
"Does it matter?" he ask.
She fights to look at him. His eyes are soft, too bright and when he reaches forward, his fingers graze her cheek. For a moment, she wonders what they look like.
"No," she says softly. "I guess it doesn't."
There's nothing to say though, nothing she thinks that will set anything, or any of this back where it should be - whatever that is supposed to be or mean. Her gaze never leaves is and she feels herself lean into his hand, under the way his fingers seem to spread against her cheek and then her jaw.
"You can't kiss me again," she mutters, and he laughs, his mouth twitching. His thumb brushes over her lip and she wonders if this means, this declaration of whatever last night is supposed to be, it means that it's all changed and over now. "I mean it," she says.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he tells her.
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. His thumb sweeps against her lip too, following as she lets a small, shallow sigh escape.
And in that moment, she decides that she hates the princess. Or the Princess. She hates her enough for the both of them, for making this seem like an impossible stretch of time that none of them can control. She will be forever grateful for the girls, the girls and their presence in her life, how they've shaped her and made her want to be the best kind of person she can and should be. It's just different now.
It's always been different with Mamoru. It's another weight to hold onto.
"You make me sad," she says. Her lips kiss the tips of his fingers and he drops his hand. "There are so many things that I should say to you, but the only thing I can think about is how sad you make me. I don't want to be sad, Mamoru-san."
The way he watches her is unsettling enough; it frees all the knots in the pit of her stomach. Her hands rest on top of the table.
"I won't - "
He smiles then, shaking his head. She keeps her hands as still as she can.
"We all have to do things we don't want to do," he says quietly. "I'm not trying to take advantage of you - I just -"
"They're safer with you? You don't trust me? You need to get to the princess first?" she blurts each question out, her jaw locking. "Heard it all from you before," she says. "And you know it's not a competition. Don't you think we want to find her too? That when we do find her, it would be easier for all of us to … I don't know. I just don't know."
"I do trust you."
She shakes her head and he draws himself back, sliding to the edge of the booth. His hand press against the table.
"More than you think," he says.
It's then that the crowd in the Arcade comes back into the picture. She listens to the laughter. She misses the girls and the safety that the group offers. Even Motoki - he's busy at the counter, helping customers with their orders and the food.
It doesn't end with her, she thinks. It's the Princess yet again. She looks up when he calls out to Motoki, waving his goodbye. But Mamoru stops too. When he turns, his hands shove into the pockets of his jacket. His smile is faint and then he shakes his head.
"It was when you laughed," he says. She freezes. "It was when you laughed that I knew and something in me - it just all came together and made sense."
Her eyes are wide. Her mouth opens - it's not slack, it's soft and she can hear a slight catch of a sound, not quite a gasp, not quite an answer either. She drags her hands away from the table and then drops them to her lap.
Usagi cannot watch him walk away. That hasn't changed.
seasons of theory
this is not a race; she grows and grows and grows and only then, do they all start watching.
sailor moon | usagi/mamoru | general series one spoilers | 7,000 words, PG
-
Something changes.
Her mother stands at the sink. The water is running and each time she finishes with a dish, it hits the counter with particular sound - hard enough to be a crack but not quite enough to be anything else.
But Usagi is quiet, maybe too quiet. She sits at the kitchen counter, studying her mother and her hands and the way they seem to work underneath the water. They're so careful, she thinks. It's an odd sort of thing to notice, how careful her mother's hands are with something so small like the dishes. Her mother starts to hum too, soft and off-placed, her voice filling the kitchen. Usagi wonders if she knows she's still here.
"Mama," she starts slowly, and her mother's hands still under the water. "Mama," she says again. "Did I ever want to be a princess?"
Her mother laughs, but doesn't turn. "Where is this coming from, sweetheart?"
"I don't know," she says. Her expression falls into a frown. "But isn't that what most little girls want to be? A princess?"
"You're still a little girl, Usa-chan," her mother says, and it's then that she turns, her gaze soft. It forces a lump into Usagi's throat and she can't quite turn her gaze away from her mother's, from the way her mouth almost wrinkles when she smiles. There is something in her eyes too and it's not the first time that she's noticed, the way her mother's eyes stay that odd color of gray and how she knows too much that her own eyes are too, too blue.
She manages to shake her head. She's careful. "I know."
They're quiet though and Usagi is almost afraid that she's said more than she needed to, even if the question feels just like a question, simple and otherwise. It's her mother that clears her throat still, and then suddenly it's not the water but the television in the other room, Shingo and her father's voice starting to settle close by.
Her mother turns away. "No," she says. "You never were that little girl."
The hardest part for them is taking everything Luna says and accepting it. They were other people once - the idea of reincarnated souls doesn't sit particularly well with Rei, knowing that someone or something is keeping her from being complete. It's the fact that there's a Princess too and all of them are expected to function because of her. Usagi doesn't understand where she fits most of all; the others are more prominent in Luna's memories as it is.
On Saturday, they are all dragged awake by an attack near the shrine and it's Makoto that sneaks them outside without any disturbances.
"Some old habits are way too handy," she grins too, and Rei scoffs while Ami and Usagi just sort of trudge to the front.
They can't transform. It's late, but it's not too late and as soon as they start walking into the city sidewalk, the panic of people is enough to hide them as they move forward.
It's Usagi that drags them into an alley just before the spot; they are framed by the heavy growls of the youma and then the sudden scream of a nearby woman. Makoto transforms first, then Rei and Usagi - Ami's already disappeared around the corner to prep and catch the scene.
"You can't go too much," Rei says to Makoto. "You're too strong for this area."
She's cool and effortless, her eyes flashing when they hear another scream. Usagi is quiet. They watch Makoto bound off. There is no sign of Luna either. She forces herself to swallow again, under another scream.
Her fingers press against Rei's wrist. "You too," she says. The other girl looks at her in surprise. "Your attacks are much faster than Makoto-chan's too. You got hurt the last time."
She tries to soften her gaze. Her hair whips against her throat and the transformation isn't quite complete, the heaviness of her gloves starting to dig into her skin. Rei usually reads right through her, but there's no time and the other girl offers her a quick smile, hurrying after Makoto to pick a side. It's up to Usagi to linger though, to lean back against the wall and take that extra deep breath.
It ends with her anyway.
Her biggest secret is that she started dreaming long before this, long before there needed to be a distinction that a memory was a memory and some things were just meant to be pictures in her head.
She tells no one, of course. Sometimes Luna catches her mid-dream, mid-nightmare, a few names digging into her throat as she tries to cry them out. Once it was mama. It's different because she's older now and it's not okay for her to open her eyes and pad down the hall, tuck herself between her parents and close her eyes so that it feels like nothing exists. She remembers tastes and sounds. She remembers the feel of a woman's hand, how cups her cheek, how her lips feel against her forehead, how sad i'm so sorry seems.
She remembers gardens too, or the occasional dish, how sweet certain things taste and she's not supposed to remember tasting - only because she's never had them at all. She is someone else, in her dreams, and too worn, too drawn, and waiting for something that she can only being to try and understand.
There is one thing that she does accept though. There never was supposed to be a Senshi of the Moon.
"Moon!" Rei screams, and her back hits the wall hard, her leg twisting as the arm of the youma wraps around her waist.
She throws her head back and blood is already lining her mouth, the youma's breath starting to sink against her throat. She doesn't fight back - no, no, not yet and there's some kind of plan that she has to adhere to. She remembers that this youma is a person. That there are the crystals; it's always hard to forget the crystals.
When it starts to laugh, nuzzling her neck, Usagi twists her head so that her fingers, just barely, have to reach and pry her tiara off of her head. It comes off with a snap and she jams it as hard as she can into the neck of the youma.
It stumbles back with a loud, awful cry. It makes her ears lurch and the bile start to rise from the back of her throat. She's stumbles and scatters to her knees, the dirt and pavement scrapping at her skin. There's a tear too and Rei - no Ami - is crying out for someone to do something. Usagi doesn't know.
Her ears are ringing.
His arm finds itself around her waist, just as Makoto throws another attack at the youma. It's so strange to watch; the light explodes and hits the side of the building grazing the side of the monster and forcing some of the walls to come down.
"You're okay," he breathes into her ear, and it's hard to hear otherwise - Tuxedo Mask is Tuxedo Mask and there's no time to accept anything outside of that.
He pulls them to a wall, high enough so that she can steady herself. She hears Rei throw another attack behind her now; the scene underneath them is unraveling into chaos. It's Ami that cries out next and something cracks, not quite as awful as bones but something closer to glass. She's fuzzy and thinks of windows.
"You're too good at this," she mutters and it's the best kind of apology that she can up with she thinks. "Sorry," she breathes too, and burrows herself against his chest.
He laughs, but she doesn't look to see if he smiles. She pulls herself away from his embrace, steading her knees against the ledge of the building. It's Rei and Makoto this time, at the same time, their attacks lacing together as Ami manages a weak fog. They're all tired. These attacks are as frequent enough as it is.
"Moon," Tuxedo Mask warns.
Her teeth sink into her lip. She can taste the blood again.
"Moon."
She growls. "Just a second," she manages too, and when the attacks hit the youma, it falls back hard into the building. She sees the rose in its shoulder and digs her fingers into her side, before reaching for her tiara again.
Usagi throws it as hard as she can.
The girls are long gone. In a little while, she'll follow too. Tonight's youma was an elderly man, confused and bruised as Makoto guided him away from the scene.
She stays at the ledge because Tuxedo Mask is still here, still waiting, and she's the only one that can stand long enough and protect the other girls' identities. She leans shakily against the brick and forces herself to cross her arms against her chest.
"I won't ask," he says.
"Good," she says too. They both know it's a lie. He'll ask about the crystals.
The lines of his mouth seem to soften. "You did well tonight," he says. "All of you. You're getting better and better working together."
"This isn't like you," she murmurs. Her cheeks flush. She can't decide if it sounds like something she needs to hear. The truth is, and it's there, he's been lingering back more and more and she's been opening herself to something. Rubbing her eyes, she looks at him wearily. "I mean, I appreciate it -"
"I want to talk about the crystals."
And there, there it is. He doesn't blurt it out, but it just stills everything. This is the point that continues to separate him and her, the one that makes Luna linger a little too long each time she stays behind. The other girls, they're trusting her, but Usagi doesn't know how long she can keep this up.
She inches away from him and he shifts forward, watching her as she fumbles with her hands and her uniform. She can feel her hair as it sticks to her neck and throat and she turns, just enough to look away and take a long, lazy breath.
"You know my answer," she says. Her voice catches and she's uncomfortable. "And I know yours - as much as I want to … agree on something. I'm guessing you're just going to keep pushing the issue as it is."
"You're worried."
Her eyes narrow. "And why wouldn't I be?"
"I -" he runs a hand through his hair. His mask catches at his nose and she straightens, her mouth thinning into a tight line. "It's not going to effect us. Our goals just happen to mix and until you -"
"- give the crystals up." She takes a step back. "I shouldn't be talking to you," she says. "I should go. And I don't really need to repeat the same thing about not giving you the crystals. I just thought - I thought that talking to you - you don't see what I see. You're so focused on finding your princess and this mission that you forget there's the rest of us, fighting the same fight, the same people and you just say it's not going to effect us. I'm not giving you our crystals."
It sort of spills and she's clapping her hands over her mouth, her eyes closing tightly. She's never admitted this out loud to anyone - to Luna, to the girls - and it hurts. Her eyes are burning and she listens to him to take a step forward.
His hand brushes her cheek and she's breathing hard. She won't look at him, even as his fingers start to work their way through her hair, through her bangs and then back, back along the line of her jaw. She thinks he's trying to reassure her or get her comfortable - Luna's voice is in her head and she knows that she's not supposed to trust him.
"I'm sorry," he tells her. "You know I am."
Everything is heavy. Everything is too heavy. It's different, this time. It sounds different. Her heart starts to twist and it's hitting her again, the difference between being Usagi and being Sailor Moon. She can't talk to anyone and it's all about missions and plans and keeping everything settled so that they can find this stupid Princess. She doesn't care. She doesn't want to care
"You should go," she says softly.
It takes a minute. He still listens.
The girls don't ask about the conversation; it's an unspoken rule. She is the last to leave Rei's in the morning, struggling with her bag until Rei helps slide it unto her shoulder.
"Make sure you ice it," she says softly. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? Grandfather will be away until the evening."
Usagi shakes her head. "I'm just going to go home."
They smile at each other: Rei's is terse, too tight, and worried and Usagi is barely there. It still carries her down the stairs and back into the sidewalk where the crowds are starting to thicken with the weekend rush. She doesn't really want to go home. The excuses are starting to feel the same again; there is only so many times she can go and say i fell before her mother looks at her and knows. She never wanted to be a liar anyway.
It's the Arcade that comes into view though and with a sigh, Usagi feels her feet sort of take that path anyway. Her fingers are gripping her bag and Motoki, at the door and cleaning the glass, manages to offer a kind smile.
"Fun night with the girls?"
Usagi lets her smile change. "Definitely," she says. He grins and she adds a little laugh. "It's always fun when it's the weekend anyway."
He lets her in and says something about a milkshake. She nods and takes one of the stools at the end of the corner, letting her bag drop unceremoniously at her feet. It's small talk after that. Motoki asks about the girls, even though they both know they'll all be in again at some point again. It's strange really, how their patterns seem to unravel at a certain way - the youma attacks are getting longer and harder and the only place they call think about going to is the small corner where the Arcade is.
When he comes back though, he sets the milkshake in front of her. She isn't really hungry and behind her, the doors open to a group of kids. Someone says something about the Sailor V game and she feels Motoki's eyes settle on her, watching and waiting for her reaction.
"Still waking up," she offers with a blush.
"Of course you are."
Motoki laughs and she sits up, her eyes narrowing as Mamoru takes the seat next to her. He stretches out, his long legs hitting her bag as he places his books on the counter. They're shoved neatly into a pile and she can only manage to shake her head.
"Of course you would," she throws back.
He laughs and Motoki disappears to get his coffee. Black, she thinks. He always takes his coffee black. On Tuesdays, when it's after class, there's a little bit of sugar and Mamoru doesn't like anything too sweet. He doesn't need to know that she knows this; she's learning to gauge his moods by his drink, not by the weight of what he's decided to tease her with today.
"Little early for a milkshake," he comments.
"Do I have to ask your permission to have it?" she half-snaps. Her voice is sharp. "I don't talk to you about the amount of coffee you drink."
"Two cups," he says.
"Three." He looks at her in surprise. She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to hide a blush. "At least," she says, "you've been drinking that much lately." She almost groans, wondering why she can't just simply lie about the smaller things. Her fingers curl around her straw and she starts stirring the whipped cream into the milkshake. "Anyway," she covers herself. "I don't judge you, so."
"Good to know."
She catches the tail end of his smile, odd as it may be, and easily distracted by Motoki who comes back to talk about some kind of party with his friend. She doesn't say anything, turning her gaze back to the small group that seems to settle around some of the games.
She's tired today.
Her shoulder starts to ache by the time she gets ready to leave. She struggles with her bag, the pain digging against her shoulder and now her neck as well.
"Usa-chan?" Motoki catches her, watching her worriedly. She flashes a terse smile. "Do you need any help?" he asks too.
"No, no," she says.
She manages to wave her hand and stumble out with a goodbye. Her fingers are digging into the strap of her bag as she settles onto the sidewalk. She could go back to Rei's, she thinks. She knows that her parents won't mind. Somewhere she remembers something about her brother's baseball game and dinner with friends.
But she has to do something.
"Let me."
His hand is on hers, then the strap of her bag before she realizes it's Mamoru standing next to her, watching her with a mix of concern and something else, something she can't quite seem to place. She feels her cheeks warm and sort of draws back to let him take the bag, unable to really bring herself to argue as it is.
"Thanks," she mumbles.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"I - " She could say back to Rei's, she thinks. She should. But her mouth opens and closes first. "I don't know," she says. "I don't really want to go home."
He frowns.
She can't look at him though and she doesn't understand the mild, unsettling feeling of panic and hope. It's such an odd pairing and she's never really had time to think about Mamoru outside the capacity that they always run into each other - arguments, more arguments, the girls and Motoki, and nothing more.
But she can feel the tears start to rush, her eyes burning as she forces herself to take a deep breath and then another one. Her teeth bite at her lip. Her tongue twists at the roof of her mouth and maybe, maybe everything is finally starting to hit her now.
Mamoru's hand brushes hers. "Come on," he says.
The memory is usually too simple; every once in awhile, they'll have an argument and she'll think back with a blush at how absent and how hard she threw that paper and how that test makes everything. It's stupid and silly and there's a part of her that knows she's going to have to stop holding onto that one, tireless aspect of something that seems too relative and too normal. It is not about not wanting to grow up.
There are other memories too, memories of how easy it'll be to catch herself looking at him, at wondering and knowing and not even realizing it. Sometimes she catches herself smiling at him. Sometimes he says something and it's around the other girls and she's got to hide how breathless it makes her. It's a flutter. It's a simple flush. Sometimes it's much more serious and serious in a way that she's not entirely sure it should be, or how unsettling it is that she is not surprised that it gets like this - It's all of these things.
This happens a lot, you see, thinking about Mamoru.
Usagi barely lets it register: this is his apartment. It doesn't hit her until she is sitting on his couch, her legs tucked underneath her as she takes the glass of water he hands her before sitting down next to her too. She stares aimlessly at the rim.
"What happened?" he asks gently, and she tries to take in everything around her, the blues and dark layers, the walls with generic pictures and the clean, too clean counters and tables that seem just like him. There are books everywhere too and music and she should be overwhelmed, sitting here and finally being exposed to Mamoru in this way.
But her fingers press hard into her glass. "I can't tell you," she says.
"Usagi."
She wants to laugh. It's the most honest she has been with anyone. She can feel the weight of it in her voice, how the words still seem to linger and taste. She feels too old without doing anything and that's the scariest part of all of this to her.
"Did someone hurt you?" he asks, and her gaze snaps up, her mouth set into a frown. He studies her. "I know you're clumsy," he teases, but then that sobers quickly. "But you can talk to me. Sometimes it's better to talk to someone who isn't close to you."
She shakes her head. "No one hurt me," she says. Her voice catches. "I wish I could tell you," she says then too, and then she's talking without any filter, not thinking about what she's saying. "I wish sometimes it was as simple as someone saying to me you can tell me and that I can just … I can do that. But it's not that simple and you're not just anyone, Mamoru-kun. You're you and I'm me and I'm so tired right now."
It isn't until his fingers curl around her chin that she realizes that she's crying. His thumb sweeps against the line of her jaw and her lips part as she meets his gaze. He blurs briefly and her cheeks feel a little wet.
"I don't want to cry in front you," she mumbles.
His mouth curls. "I won't tell," he says, and then he draws her forward, taking the glass from her hand.
It goes to a table, somewhere behind her and she feels him pull her into his side, letting her press under his arm. She closes her eyes tightly and then his fingers curl into her hair. They don't move. They just seem to linger until his thumb starts to stroke circles.
There is nothing reassuring about the moment. Her voice cracks. Then it's a sob, stumbling out of her mouth as she remembers the youma from the night before and Tuxedo Mask's strange, strange devotion to a cause that she's supposed to just accept and get. She wants to be angry at him too because he seems to hold himself to the questions and she can barely keep it together, let alone let herself to react in such away that isn't anything but confusion. She's sad too because at the end of the day, she and the girls are just girls and somehow, all of this, is taking that away.
"I don't like to see you sad," he murmurs. His mouth brushes against her hair and her eyes open slowly. "I saw you walking towards the Arcade - you could just tell. I know I'm the last person that you want to fix things, but - I just don't like to see you sad."
"Mamoru -" she breathes out, then stops herself as she lifts her head. She meets his gaze and he's serious, maybe too serious. She doesn't know what to do with him like this. She's not good at this. "I don't -"
He leans down to kiss her.
It just sort of happens; her mind replays the slight jerk in his posture, the way his hand seems to still at the back of her neck as his mouth opens over hers and she just sighs back into his mouth. She feels her hand rise and curl in his shirt and the position is sort of tight and awkward, her knees pressing into her leg.
Then she makes a soft sound. It's her mouth that opens wider, her tongue pressing lightly against his lip as he just growls. He's greedy and she's flushed and there's something about the kiss that's too hot, too desperate, and completely unlike anything she's ever found herself thinking about. It unravels slowly in her though, and somewhere, that feeling of being stuck in between herself and something else starts to surface. She feels like she's been here before, waiting for this kind of moment.
It's what makes her push herself up onto her knees and then his arm is wrap around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She's straddling his legs and her skirt sort of flutters out, her hand sliding into his hair. She's kissing him harder and her teeth grasping at his lip, making him sigh against her mouth. She did that, she thinks. She did. There's this kind of reverence that comes with that thought and then he says her name against her mouth.
His fingers brush against the locket at her throat. The communicator in her bag starts to beep.
They stare at each other.
She doesn't know how long she lets the communicator go until Makoto's voice breaks, panicked and breathless, until the small compact is in her hand and she's scrambles back, her knees aching and her lips wet and bruised. The locket around her neck finally makes itself known; it dangles and hits the front of her blouse, open and hanging between the two of them.
Mamoru's eyes are dark. He stands slowly.
"Usagi!"
Her fingers curl around the locket at her throat. She cannot pull her gaze away from Mamoru. He seems to be waiting. Her stomach is starting to build its knots, tightening slowly as that familiar, ugly sensation of knowing starts to pick at her. It's there and then it's there again, picking at her.
"You should get that," he says softly, and she feels herself nod. Her eyes aren't burning. She doesn't cry. She doesn't ask.
Somewhere between park and Rei's voice joining Makoto on the communicator, Mamoru moves steps forward. She jerks her shoulders back, straightening and ignoring the throbbing pain that seems to slowly work itself back into picking at her body.
It hits her then, all those little things, all those millions of little things that she's caught and noticed and told herself that she's completely crazy for thinking that similarities are just similarities and coincidences. But it's not just her, it's the girls too and the off-handed comments that they've all made here and there when it comes to Mamoru.
She doesn't say the words. She doesn't say his name. She manages to keep herself set tall and look calm, even though she's starting to unravel inside, piece by piece. She can taste him too and her mouth is still very, very warm and instead of feeling completely terrified, she finds herself facing a resignation that's never been there before. And he knows.
"You know," she accuses softly.
His mouth twists. "So do you," he says. "I was waiting for you to catch up."
She flinches. "So this was just - " her fingers curl around her locket " - you were just trying to - I don't even know what to say to you."
"Nothing," he tells her.
It doesn't matter who transform first. There were roses at the door.
The park is dark. There is a light layer of fog and she is torn between thinking Ami and the sudden, strange change in the weather. Her heart is racing when she finally drops, knee to the ground in the middle of a fight between Rei and the youma. The front of Rei's uniform is torn and she's shaking, mouthing something off about Makoto and on the other side.
"They've never attacked at multiple points!" she cries out, and all Usagi can do is catch the end of the attack, pushing the other girl away and hard.
They fall into the grass and her knees scrape into the dirt. There's a slight, sharp cut in the air and the youma howls. Usagi looks up in time to catch the rose.
"Not me!" she snarls. She cannot think about it. She won't think about it. "Go help Makoto!" she yells too and ignores Rei's look as she helps the other girl to her feet. I can take care of this, she thinks. I can. They want a leader.
Her mouth is burning.
It never occurs to her that he listens to her until Makoto comes barreling in with an attack, catching her around the waist as Rei lets out another one of hers.
They're both bleeding and her friend throws a sharp grin in greeting, Usagi rolling away from her so that she can end it again. They move with each other - she, Rei, Ami, Makoto - and to the point where things are now relying more and more on instinct. At some point, they'll talk about leaders but right now, now, Usagi can not think about doing her best.
She sees the crystal before all of them.
When it started, it used to be nothing more than glimmer, underneath the layers and layers of the person that the Dark Kingdom buried underneath the youma. It's right there though and the voices are starting to dull into a murmur, Ami's cries for the girls to reset their attacks and try all over again.
She doesn't know how she knows, or how she knows to sort of peel herself back, completely aware that Tuxedo Mask is here and waiting and a new, different kind of fight is about to explode right in front of everyone.
"Mars," she says softly.
They are still close enough where Rei can hear her, where Makoto can handle the brunt of the attacks and Ami maximizes their time by adding some of her arm. Rei limps to here and they all know that Usagi can't just join until it's an opening, a real opening.
"I need you," she says, staring at the crystal. It's right there, embedded at the heart of whatever the youma/human is. The arms are too long and the teeth are too wide and she swears, swears that it's because they're pulling from their own nightmares. "I need you to buy me enough time," she says.
"Usa -"
She shakes her head. "There's a crystal."
Rei's eyes brighten in understanding, her mouth settling into grim determination. They both pull on each other's energy; Rei squeezes her arm.
"You're getting better," she says.
It takes everything she has not to cry. The words should feel different from Rei; instead it's shapeless and hollow. The brief, sharp touch of her mouth and the sudden image of how stupid that kiss was, how it might have given everything away - it doesn't matter, before or after, how he knows. She just doesn't want to know. The words aren't supposed to hurt that much. But Usagi forces a smile too and pulls herself back.
The reminder is enough to press her into remembering that he's still here.
The rush gets her to the crystal first, and the sharp skidding of gravel against her skin and knee is another reminder that she's still, still very alive and very human. She doesn't look back to see the youma fall or how her tiara suddenly finds her outstretched hand.
But he's there, oh he's there, and his arm is not without familiar uncertainty around her waist as he sweeps her up and carries her onto a nearby building. Rei's cry is the loudest and she wraps her fist around the crystal as tight as she can.
When he puts her down, she stumbles onto her knees and jerks back, cradling the rock to her chest and watching him wearily.
It's not the first time she's thought about Tuxedo Mask and Mamoru - those thoughts have been too small to be anything but thoughts, or too silly and lazy to press into concern. She's never brought it up to the girls or to Luna and maybe, maybe it was just instinct after all.
She leans back on her knees and he stands too tall, too curious, reaching up to peel his mask away from his face. His eyes are dark, just like they were back in his apartment, and she feels her mouth set back into a frown.
"Was this the plan?" she hears herself ask.
"No."
The crystal in her hand is starting to glow. She pulls it out between them, staring at it. Her gaze is hard and she almost wants to give it to him, completely defiant against whatever is driving them both to this place.
"I'm not going to ask," she murmurs. "I don't want to know how you knew or how long you've known. You have your mission. I have my friends and family to protect."
"I understand," he says flatly.
She scoffs. "Do you?" she pushes herself to stand and every bone in her body is screaming; it unravels in her arms and legs and her gaze darkens when she looks at him. "Because you think I'm going to give you the crystal and then we'll just be set - now that I know you're Mamoru and you know who I am." She holds up the crystal. "This," she snarls. "This is about protecting my friends and family too."
"We're no different," he murmurs.
Her heart is in her throat and she looks away, touching her mouth. It happens slowly, the pull of what feels like a memory. She can smell the roses and hates them. She feels lonely and sad and wants to go somewhere, somewhere that's like home. But nothing feels like home.
"I don't want to fight you, Usagi," he says too. She listens to him take a step forward. Then it's another; he stops in front of her, too close to her, his fingers curling around her wrist. "I never, ever want to fight you, Usagi. But this is just something I need to do."
"I wish I could believe like you," she says. "And just as hard."
He gives a short, little laugh. The sound is hard. She feels his fingers start to pick at her own and one by one, they come off the crystal. He's gentle, maybe too gentle, and the crystal starts to lose some of its weight. She never knows what they feel like - are they smooth, are they cold - and deep down, there's something else, something more important to focus on.
"You don't want to be like me," he murmurs, and the crystal drops into his palm. She looks down, studying it and then up at him. He sounds so sad when he says it. It's resignation. It seems to always be resignation.
She knows Luna's going to be angry. She knows the girls will be easily placated by her stories of falling or dropping the crystal. Rei might be harder. She knows that. Rei is always hard, despite the teasing, because Usagi has never been able to hide much from her as it is. It's how she takes a step back and how she touches her mouth with her gloves again, ignoring the rueful sort of smile on his mouth as she meets his gaze.
The crystal seems to dim, but she ignores it. "You got what you want," she says.
"I never wanted to be a princess," Ami says.
They sit at one of the tables towards the back, Makoto next to her and Rei next to Usagi. Usagi finds her thoughts going in and out and when the girls laugh, she offers a tiny smile, forcing herself to filter back into the conversation.
"Me either," she admits quietly, and everyone turns to look at her in surprise. There's a faint blush on her cheeks and she can't bring herself to look at them, ignoring Luna too as she bites lightly at her ankles underneath the table.
It's Rei's concern that makes her easy and she forces her gaze to turns towards the counters where Motoki and Mamoru are sitting, in low conversation. He's already talked to Rei and she hasn't missed any of the small glances that Mamoru has thrown towards her.
She's sad, she thinks. She's sad and disappointed in a way that feels bigger than her. Somewhere inside of her she is ready to give that up to growing up, but it also feels like that it belongs to something else. The mantra is still the same in her head: she gave a crystal up. But she doesn't know what she's going to do.
"I don't know what I wanted to be," she adds. "My mother can't remember - I think I asked her about it the other day. I just know … I never had any desire to be one."
Rei tugs at her pigtail. "Completely out of character, no?"
Makoto laughs too. "Right? I figure, if there's anyone who wanted to be a princess it would be you, Usa-chan - and whole-heartedly. You're the most romantic out of all of us."
She smiles tightly. Sometimes she wishes that were still true.
"I think I just wanted to be happy," she says quietly, and across from her Ami seems to soften, nodding in agreement. "Weird, right? That's the only thing I can remember. Wanting to be happy and have the people around me be happy too."
Rei smiles first.
The girls are gone when he finally sits with her - next to her, not across from her - and it takes everything in Usagi to ignore Motoki's grin.
"What did you say to him?" she asks. Luna is gone too, off with Ami to discuss a few things - she wasn't paying any attention as it is. All she knows now that Mamoru is sitting next to her and he's too close, the weight of elbow digging lightly into her hip.
"Does it matter?" he ask.
She fights to look at him. His eyes are soft, too bright and when he reaches forward, his fingers graze her cheek. For a moment, she wonders what they look like.
"No," she says softly. "I guess it doesn't."
There's nothing to say though, nothing she thinks that will set anything, or any of this back where it should be - whatever that is supposed to be or mean. Her gaze never leaves is and she feels herself lean into his hand, under the way his fingers seem to spread against her cheek and then her jaw.
"You can't kiss me again," she mutters, and he laughs, his mouth twitching. His thumb brushes over her lip and she wonders if this means, this declaration of whatever last night is supposed to be, it means that it's all changed and over now. "I mean it," she says.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he tells her.
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. His thumb sweeps against her lip too, following as she lets a small, shallow sigh escape.
And in that moment, she decides that she hates the princess. Or the Princess. She hates her enough for the both of them, for making this seem like an impossible stretch of time that none of them can control. She will be forever grateful for the girls, the girls and their presence in her life, how they've shaped her and made her want to be the best kind of person she can and should be. It's just different now.
It's always been different with Mamoru. It's another weight to hold onto.
"You make me sad," she says. Her lips kiss the tips of his fingers and he drops his hand. "There are so many things that I should say to you, but the only thing I can think about is how sad you make me. I don't want to be sad, Mamoru-san."
The way he watches her is unsettling enough; it frees all the knots in the pit of her stomach. Her hands rest on top of the table.
"I won't - "
He smiles then, shaking his head. She keeps her hands as still as she can.
"We all have to do things we don't want to do," he says quietly. "I'm not trying to take advantage of you - I just -"
"They're safer with you? You don't trust me? You need to get to the princess first?" she blurts each question out, her jaw locking. "Heard it all from you before," she says. "And you know it's not a competition. Don't you think we want to find her too? That when we do find her, it would be easier for all of us to … I don't know. I just don't know."
"I do trust you."
She shakes her head and he draws himself back, sliding to the edge of the booth. His hand press against the table.
"More than you think," he says.
It's then that the crowd in the Arcade comes back into the picture. She listens to the laughter. She misses the girls and the safety that the group offers. Even Motoki - he's busy at the counter, helping customers with their orders and the food.
It doesn't end with her, she thinks. It's the Princess yet again. She looks up when he calls out to Motoki, waving his goodbye. But Mamoru stops too. When he turns, his hands shove into the pockets of his jacket. His smile is faint and then he shakes his head.
"It was when you laughed," he says. She freezes. "It was when you laughed that I knew and something in me - it just all came together and made sense."
Her eyes are wide. Her mouth opens - it's not slack, it's soft and she can hear a slight catch of a sound, not quite a gasp, not quite an answer either. She drags her hands away from the table and then drops them to her lap.
Usagi cannot watch him walk away. That hasn't changed.