Sailor Moon Fic: untitled-5
It's been a week of being in the ER, on all kind of drugs, and just general 'next time, I'm just not getting out of bed' stuff. I meant to post this earlier, but I was way too doped up on Tuesday to do anything but watch youtube videos of 48 Hours Mystery. Anyways. The series is also tagged should you need to go back. I'm linking lazily with this one.
untitled-5
they have been so careful about secrets. nobody is ready to find out what she'll do when she knows.
sailor moon | usagi/mamoru | general spoilers/AU | 5,027 words, PG
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Monday, two bodies are pulled from the water. A lift dangles a little car from a hook; a mix of weeds spill out of an open door. The detective that watches all of this is the one that sits with Usagi in Mamoru's apartment.
Kris sits on the arm of her chair. Usagi stares blankly at the space in front of her; she has no idea where the others are, remembering vaguely that Mamoru had a meeting with someone.
"Do you recognize this, Tsukino-san?"
The detective slides two bags onto the coffee table; the wedding rings cause her throat to tighten. But it's the second bag that she picks up, her hands shaking. Her nails dig into the bag, pulling at the plastic. It's a bracelet. The charms are in different states, the gold spoiled and green from the water. She tries to swallow. When Kris' hand settles on her shoulder, she realizes she's let out some kind of sob.
"There are supposed to be seven charms," she says quietly. Her eyes are burning. "Shingo and I were saving up to buy Mama the sea horse one that she liked so much."
"I'm sorry," the detective says. He gently tugs the bag from her hand.
Kris clears his throat. "Is there anything else you need?"
The detective looks at him and then Usagi. He runs a hand through his hair.
"Once we finish processing, we'll need a secondary confirmation -" Usagi is wide-eyed. Her mouth opens and closes. "We'll call you into the station. Are there any other relatives that could come and..."
She watches the mouth of the detective move. She doesn't really hear anything; she knows what he's asking. The truth is that both Shingo and Usagi knew how tight-lipped their parents were about their lives. From what she knows, her father was practically disowned for marrying her mother. On her mother's side, there two more brothers. The first is a doctor in the States, the second is a monk and left the family when her mother was a girl. Her mother never talked about her parents either.
"There's just Shingo and I," she says. Her hands press against her face. Her stomach is starting to tighten into knots. "I'll do whatever needs to be done." She feels the tears start to blur and fall. She wipes away at them hard. "But," she says. Her voice evens and is firm. "I will not let my brother see my parents in - in anyway other than what he knows."
There is a strange feeling in the room. It grows heavier when Kris straightens next to her and the detective looks at her with a misplaced sense of awe.
Usagi drops her hands into her lap. The man clears his throat, looking away. His fingers touch the badge over his jacket.
"I understand," he says.
Usagi does not pull Shingo out of school. Her age feels like a sudden authority. She waits until Mamoru brings him home, Minako in tow; the other girl has an arm slung around her brother and when they see her, Shingo is the first to stop.
It's a moment that will forever engrave itself onto her mind, the way his smile fades and his gaze becomes unsteady. He stands taller and Minako's arm drops from his shoulder, as he takes a step forward. He doesn't look like her brother and she feels her own self-resentment begin to crawl inside of her. She doesn't move either, not yet, and draws her arms over herself, hugging herself tightly.
"Let's take a walk," she says quietly.
Shingo nods. He hands his school bag to Minako and Usagi moves forward, letting her brother take her arm.
Usagi can feel them watch her the entire time.
"I want to go with you," Shingo says after awhile. "You shouldn't have to do it alone, neechan."
All she can really do is stare at her brother. They've stopped at the park, the two of them settled at a bench that over looks the swings. Shingo reaches for her, touching her arm tentatively as she forces herself to smile sadly.
"No," she says. "I don't want you to see them like that -"
"Usagi," he interrupts.
"No," she insists. Her eyes feel warm again. She presses her hands to her face, her fingers digging into her temples. "You need to have good memories of them, of the way they should be - I want you to live your life knowing Mama and Daddy like they - they -"
She can't finish. She doesn't cry. She just sits back against the bench and stares. Shingo mirrors her, shaking his head and then leans forward to rest his elbows against his knees.
There are so many things going through her head. She wonders if her parents are just another casualty in these monster attacks. She cannot think of them as scared. There is an incredible amount of guilt that comes with that; she doesn't know what to do with it or understand it.
Shingo shifts next to her. He doesn't touch her, but he doesn't pull away either.
"Take Mamoru-san with you," he murmurs. "Please don't go alone."
Usagi can't look at him when she answers. "Okay," she says.
The call comes just as Usagi starts returning to normal habits, like homework and tentative conversations with friends. She talks to Minako and the other girls the most; they visit from day to day, overwhelming meals and checking up on her brother. There's Naru too, just Naru though, who comes around just barely by phone, asking how she is.
But when she gets the call, she knocks on Mamoru's door - she shares a room with Shingo down the hall - biting her lip as he answers. He's sleepy, despite the early morning stride, and she's tugging her sweater around her.
"I need you to take me to -" her eyes close and she looks down.
"Come in," he says, not even hesitating. "Let me get dressed."
Her cheeks flush. She moves into the room, tightening her arms around herself as he closes the door behind her. The bed is a neat mess, something she finds incredibly odd and funny nonetheless. She sits at the edge of it, looking up at him.
"Thanks," she murmurs.
He shakes his head. "It's not necessary." He tugs a shirt on. "We - me - I'm here for you, for whatever you need."
"I feel like we're taking advantage of you - your kindness," she mumbles.
He scoffs.
"I'm serious," she insists, and it's hard, being in his bedroom. She's flushing and her hands wring in her lap, her legs twitching to curl underneath her. "I don't want you to think that's the case. I hope that you don't - I can't -" she doesn't want to owe him any favors, she thinks seriously. But she can't even finish that sentence.
"I know," he tells her.
His fingers fumble over the buttons of his shirt. He stops and moves to where she sits, taking the spot next to her.
"I want you here," he says.
She smiles sadly. She doesn't know what to say; there's only so many times she can insist how little he knows about her or how little she knows of him. She's tired. She's just tired. She doesn't want to argue anymore - or feel like it in the very least.
"Thank you," she says.
His hand brushes against his shoulder, then back of her neck. He pulls her close to him, into him, his arm resting against her shoulders.
He presses his lips against her forehead.
The morgue is cold. The walls are all white; Mamoru's hands have moved to her shoulders. There is Kris and Minako too, Minako holding her hand and Kris standing on the other side of Mamoru. Usagi tightens her grip on Minako's hand.
"I'm right here," the other girl says quietly.
She'll never forget how surreal everything is. They have her standing in front of a glass, the curtains drawn forward tightly. It's bad enough that she knows exactly what is on the other side and how it'll simply just change everything.
Slowly, she lets go of Minako's hand and draws away from Mamoru. The detective appears at the side and she moves forward to touch the glass. She doesn't remember taking a deep breath, but her mouth opens and closes and she finds herself relaying a nod to the officer. He taps the glass and she steels herself.
Her hand covers her mouth.
It's like the monsters, she thinks first. The break in skin; the way her mother seems so inexplicably pale, her hair flattened back and her hands folded across her chest. She is a mix of horrified and shock. Her eyes blur and takes more than a moment to look at her father - it's her father - body stretched out, sunk against the cold slab and she just knows. It's all connected, she thinks. It has to be.
"Tsukino-san?"
She looks up, trembling. The detective steps closer to her. Mamoru's arm slides around her waist and both Minako and Kris seem to flank both of their sides again.
"That's them," she says. "That's my mother and father."
"I'm so sorry, Tsukino-san."
Her eyes burn. She looks up at him again. "I want to know what happened -"
"Usagi," Minako starts.
"No," she snaps, her gaze steadying on the detective. She straightens against Mamoru, her mouth tightening. "I want to know what happened to them. I want to know why this took so long - why weren't - why - why."
She breaks and she breaks hard, stumbling into a sob as Mamoru wraps her into him. She half-clutches, half-hits at his jacket, her fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. She doesn't think anymore. It's all about monsters and secrets and things that she can't even begin to wrap her head around and somewhere, somehow, it just levels itself as completely and utterly unfair. That's what she hates most about it.
So she sobs and there are half-murmurs around her, fingers in her hair and an ease that she should question but she doesn't because for once, for once, she wants to be selfish about something and then mean it. She knows that this means she's going to have to carry her family now, her brother, herself - it's what her parents would have wanted.
This, she promises herself too, will be the last time she cries in front of all of them.
It doesn't quite hit her until they return home - to Mamoru's home - where she stands in the kitchen, flanked by Minako and Kris and Mamoru, all watching her as if she were just that ready to snap. She pours herself a glass of water from the sink.
"What can we do?" Minako asks quietly. She steps forward first, sliding an arm around Usagi's waist. Usagi ignores her for a moment, pressing the glass to her lips. "I can call the other girls -" she adds. "I'm sure," she says dryly. "Mamoru-san won't mind."
There is a low growl and Usagi isn't in the mood, stepping between the group and then pulling away. She takes her water, making a fist around her glass.
"I need some air," she says.
She barely gives any of them a second look, moving into the hall and down the line to the bedrooms. She walks into the room she shares with Shingo, leaning back against the bed and settling on the floor.
Her gaze settles on the carpet. She can't erase the memories of her parents now; the way her mother's hair was slicked back, the twin, pale pallors of her parents' skin. She wonders if they were hurt, if they felt pain - she stops that thought, right there, her stomach lurching into knots. Putting the glass of water down next to her, she draws her legs up to her chest.
Mamoru comes in sometime after, not long - she isn't sure. But he comes and sits next to her on the floor, sliding his arm around her shoulders. His mouth presses into her hair.
"This shouldn't have happened to you," he says quietly.
She chokes over a laugh. Her eyes close tightly and she curls a hand into his shirt.
"I'm sorry it did," he says too. "If I could, if I could, I'd take it all away from you. You and your brother," he adds.
"But you can't," she says.
"No," he agrees. His fingers tighten in her hair, dragging briefly to run against the back of her neck. His fingers press lazily over her skin. "But I can be here. I can be here for whatever you need from me."
It's not the right thing to say. She doesn't really know if there is. But it's just the way his arm settles around her shoulders, the way he keeps her close and she doesn't feel like she needs anything else. For a moment, she thinks, for a moment it feels like it's just that easy to shut the world out and forget, forget that everything has changed and she cannot begin to understand where she stands now.
Somehow it doesn't matter. She doesn't know how long they stay like this.
She wakes up in the dark, shooting up. Her eyes are heavy. She makes a fist in the sheets; it's Mamoru's room, she realizes instantly. The blankets rest lazily over her legs and she cannot remember how she got here. She remembers sitting with him in her own room though.
"Hey."
Usagi blinks. Mamoru shifts off of a chair, sinking into the bed next to her. His fingers touch her face and she turns her cheek, letting out a soft sigh.
"You're okay," he murmurs too.
"No," she says. "I'm not."
She doesn't cry, but she swings her legs off the bed, in between his and falls slightly against his knees. She feels his fingers slip into her hair too. He rolls them slowly, lazily, as if to try and comfort her. She tries and focuses on the change in pressure, the way his fingers seem to know how to push away some of her tension.
It takes awhile for her to look up at him. Her hand reaches for his wrist, her fingers curling around it to still his hand. His gaze meets hers.
"I have to make arrangements," she says softly.
"I know."
"I don't know their families," she says too. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth. "Shingo and I - everything about Mama and Daddy's families are … empty and I don't think I can handle another Auntie. I don't know what's real and what's fake anymore except -" Her hand frames her face. "Except that I saw them at the police station like that."
Mamoru shakes his head. "One thing at a time," he tells her. He pulls her hand away from her face. Tugging at it, she finds herself being pulled into his lap. "You don't need to take it in all like this. I'm not saying that it's not hard - but, but you can't take on all this responsibility and feel like it's just yours to bear. You always did do that."
She blinks. "What?"
He clears his throat. She sits up, confused.
"Mamoru?"
"Nothing," he says. He touches her cheek. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," she mutters, looking away. "You and Minako and the others are the same - you don't think I notice? The way you look at me like I'm someone else. I don't understand it. I don't think I'll ever understand it, but it's not fair. It's not fair because I'm starting to trust you and my brother's involved and honestly, honestly, Mamoru, I told you before. He's the most important person in my life now."
"Hey," he says. His hands frame her face. "Hey, I know. Take a deep breath."
She feels his hand move back against her neck too, his fingers spreading along the long line of her throat. She shudders and sighs, biting back another moment where she feels like she's going to cry. It's deep in her throat, deep in her heart, and somehow, somehow she forces herself to control that kind of release. It's frightening how instinctive it all feels.
"You're too good at this," she mumbles.
He laughs. "Not really," he says. She looks up at him. His mouth twists. "You'll find that I just tend to have better days."
She shakes her head. "You're so silly."
"So you tell me," he says softly.
It's when she settles that she catches that gaze, the gaze again. His eyes are soft. It's the way his mouth seems to relax too, his fingers pulling at her hair.
There is so much she wants to ask; it comes in spades, in moments that she's not really sure are questions that she should ask or shouldn't. They feel too unfamiliar, another part of how complicated and how uncanny all of this is. She misses her parents, she thinks. She misses that sense of normalcy she had; it's more than that though. She wonders if this is what growing up is supposed to feel like.
Her eyes start to close again. "Go to sleep," Mamoru says. "I'll be here."
She believes him.
The dream is lazier than before. She feels the grass between her toes and giggles, off-putting and confused. Her hands are in fists, around the fabric of her dress, and she sort of spins to the side, her mouth breaking into a smile.
"You're drunk," comes the voice behind her.
"I'm alive," she corrects.
She turns on her heels. Her head tilts to the side. The shadow form the figure of a man. There is a sword at his side. By all accounts, he is an imposing figure but she isn't intimidated at all.
"Serenity," the man warns.
"Endymion," she sings back, the name stumbling out of her mouth with incredible ease. Her mouth tilts and she sweeps herself into a low, low curtsy. "My prince," she drawls too. "I trust the Lady Edith has kept your bed sufficiently warm."
"Jealous, princess?"
She scoffs. "You take me for an idiot, Endymion," she says. She swings into a spin, craning her neck back. The moon seems unusual bright, waiting for her. She tilts her head to the side again, calming. "I wasn't sent for you," she says quietly, seriously. "I was sent to give a gesture of good will and - " the words are there: see you, but she cannot bring herself to say it. "I am not a fool, your grace."
There is a hand on her arm, then her shoulder as she turns. A hand presses against her cheek.
"Forgive me," he mumbles.
"No," she says. Her mouth twitches. "It's not supposed to be that easy - Venus says I should, by all rights, be able to torture you."
He lets out a dark laugh, pulling her close. Her eyes close when she feels his mouth graze her jaw. His fingers work their way into her hair, pulling at the strands.
"She hates me," he mumbles.
"She does." Her lips brush against his shoulder. She tastes the cool fabric of his cape. "You haven't given her any reason not to."
It feels dark and complicated, the weight of their reactions and whatever relationship is theirs to hold. She leans back, just a little, her mouth curling into a lazy smile. It's the wine, she thinks. The wine was supposed to give her a little more courage. But his knuckles graze her cheek.
"I won't hurt you," he says softly.
She doesn't answer. The words are there, linger: yes, yes you will.
The Temple is an odd source of comfort. Rei sits next to her on the steps, their hands holding tea that her grandfather has made for the both of them.
The funeral is in a few days, and in a few days more, Usagi is going back to school, back to a life, back to something. There are nerves and anticipation and she is less and less concerned with how people are going to be watching her. She thinks it's Shingo, although she knows it's completely unfair to put that kind of silent pressure on her brother. It just gives her some focus, a chance at having some focus.
"Thank you," she tells Rei. She looks up at the older girl. "For the arrangements," she murmurs. "For helping," she adds.
Rei softens. "Anything you need," she says simply.
Usagi flushes and tightens her grip around her tea. "Still," she manages. "You were very patient with me and with - everything."
"Usagi," the other girl says. Her fingers curl around her wrist. "You need to stop taking this on all by yourself. No one expects you to take it all on. You're human."
She shakes her head. "I don't feel like it," she says.
Rei laughs.
There is something about the Temple, she thinks again. Looking down the stairs, she sees the slow passing of people, going up and down with offerings and prayers. Rei is dressed simply today, in jeans and a blouse. She sits closer to Usagi too, watching the people as well; Usagi feels as if her gaze is much more careful though.
But she enjoys the colors and the sights, the way the trees seem to blossom around her. It's the smile of those families that pass them too and then the simple bitterness that the tea warms against her tongue.
"Do you believe in dreams?" she finds herself asking. She doesn't look at Rei. It feels so strange; it's a partial admission, maybe even nothing. The words just feel comfortable being directed towards Rei.
"I do," Rei murmurs. She seems careful, maybe too careful. "I think there's a tremendous sense of meaning in them. They're always important."
Usagi's hand brushes through her hair. "Important how?" she asks too.
Rei shrugs. "I think they're usually where the answers are -" she laughs, shaking her head. "Even if we don't believe them. Or we're frightened - mostly, I think, we're frightened of the answers that dreams give us."
"Answers," Usagi echoes.
Rei touches her arm. Usagi bites her lip, studying her hand. It seems familiar, stupidly familiar - she wonders if she's reading too much into these gestures, between the girls and Mamoru and everything else. She's just exhausted too. It could be all a part of that.
She thinks about her dreams though; she hasn't tried to piece them together. It seems reckless and silly, it seems like the answers should just be right there and yet, right now, they're not. She wants to be angry that they're not.
But Rei's question drops and drops in a way that Usagi cannot avoid answering.
"What's bothering you?"
Usagi's mouth twitches. "Everything," she says.
Justin takes them to lunch. He wraps an arm around Usagi's shoulder, grinning at a bemused Rei. The conversation is warm, but Usagi isn't really paying any attention. Her mind belongs a million miles away as it is.
But she does watch them, watches as their body language seems to unravel in a mix of comfort and discomfort, a lazy paradox that she doesn't even know how to understand. It still feels familiar though and when she leans closer to Justin, he smiles down at her and Rei leans forward to touch her cheek as well.
"Stop it," she says. Her mouth curls in amusement. "You can't hide your worrying well."
"I -" Usagi blushes, ducking against Justin's arm. "Sorry."
"Girls," Justin warns teasingly. "We're going to have a good day today."
"Ugh." Rei's nose wrinkles. "Stop ruining the moment."
"I am not," he says. "I'm just saying, we're going to have a good day and Usagi's going to laugh and maybe, just maybe, you'll finally make out with me."
"What?" Rei's eyes narrow, and Usagi covers her mouth with her hand, hiding a laugh. Justin smirks in amusement. But Rei pokes him in the chest. "You - you need to keep that stuff to yourself, okay? Minako hates you enough as it is."
"But Usagi-chan doesn't, right?"
Usagi blinks, flushing. She feels like she's being pulled into an argument that she has no room to be in or stand on her own.
"Don't bring Usagi-chan into this," Rei says. "You just like getting me into trouble, you jerk. That's what you do best."
"I don't hate anybody," she mumbles.
They both look at her in surprise; they've stopped outside of the Arcade, both of them standing too close to Usagi. Justin grins and Rei reaches forward to tug her hair.
Nobody says i know.
"How long have you known each other?"
The question seems reasonable enough. She isn't surprised when both Rei and Justin look up at her; Rei is prone to amusement, but Justin's gaze is unreadable. She bites her lip and curls her legs together, rubbing her palms against her knees.
"Long enough," Rei mutters.
Justin rolls his eyes. There's a slight hesitation in his voice. "For awhile," he says carefully. "Rei and I knew each other after Kris -"
"Minako," Rei corrects, interrupting. "Knew everybody first. We just all … it fell into place," she says quickly. "I think she, Kris, and Mamoru knew each other the longest."
Usagi stares at her hands. Lunch has been relatively pleasant enough, she thinks. The barbs feel familiar and warm her in the oddest of ways. She wants to reach out and touch Rei's arm or laugh at Justin and tell him to stop being an idiot, which she's sure, in some way, he already knows.
She thinks of Mamoru then, of their own shared awareness of all these stupid secrets. She wonders if he would tell her, should she ask him. She wonders if it's just that easy to say - tell me everything. He doesn't seem like the type to give it up.
"Why?" Justin asks gently.
"I don't know," she admits. She bites her lip. There is a strong, overwhelming need to keep her conversations with Mamoru private. But, she thinks, they are a part of this too. "I feel like," she says slowly, "there are things that I should know - it doesn't make any sense. Maybe I'm tired, maybe I'm - I'm just caught up in everything."
"What do you feel like you should know?" Justin presses. Rei shoots him a dirty look, but he's turning towards her, leaning over the table. His fingers touch her knuckles. "You can talk us, you know. Tell us anything."
It feels too personal. She draws back.
"I feel like I'm losing sight of myself," she says; it's scary, how real that feels.
The door to the bedroom is open. The curtains to the balcony pull back, wiping against the slight breeze. The light is there too; Kris steps through, finding the Prince leaning against the balcony railing. He nurses a drink, lifting it when Kris comes to settle next to him.
"She's going to be angry," the Prince says.
"Rightfully so." Kris straightens against the railing. He turns and leans against it, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We can only hide this from her for so long."
"They're insistent," the Prince agrees.
"They know she's the one."
"We're going to have to push." The color of the Prince's voice is unsettling. Kris watches his mouth set into a deep frown. It's the warrior, he thinks. "I don't want to push her," he says too. "But there is no other way to -"
"You'll do what you think is best, your grace," Kris tells him.
The other man's mouth twists. "Always with the right things to say." He flicks his wrist, the ice in his glass clicking together. "She did like you best," he says.
Kris laughs, but the sound is too soft. His memories of the woman are selective and warm, the slight touches against his face, familiar and of a family that he could've had. It makes things desperately sad, heavier even.
"But she loved you."
The Prince sighs, rubbing his eyes. He brings the drink to his mouth. They both know that the safest place for both Usagi and her brother is here, in the apartment, among the others and, much to the Prince's reluctance, the girls. They cannot take them away from this either. He knows that Minako is biding time, as well as the Prince, but they are both keeping their sides to themselves. Usagi will never be able to pick.
"The Dark Kingdom has been watching her for a long time," Kris murmurs then. "How long - we don't know. Venus seems to think that the family had something to do with it too."
"It's already devastated her," the Prince murmurs.
"And you're surprised?"
Kris watches a dark smile cross the Prince's mouth. They have been together the longest; much like all aspects of their lives. He thinks the darkest memory for his Prince, however, is the subsequent murder of his beloved - it still feels odd and cold to think of the girl this way, especially when she stands in front of them daily now, bright and flushed, sad but so alive nonetheless.
"She'll hate me," the Prince says. "I don't think - I can't have her hating me. It would kill me all over again. I can't have Venus or the others being right again. I know she dreams too. I know because I've sat -" His hand presses against his face. "I've heard her talk in her sleep."
Kris shakes his head. "She didn't hate you."
"Kunzite," the Prince warns, a deep growl. Kris straightens at his given name, his eyes darkening. But his mouth twists too and the Prince finishes off his drink. "I won't make the same mistakes," he says quietly, dangerously.
They hear the door open from outside the room, the bedroom and then Justin's laughter signaling the return of Usagi. They hear Shingo too and Kris grabs the glass from the Prince's hand, pushing the Prince into standing straighter.
There is never anything right to say.
untitled-5
they have been so careful about secrets. nobody is ready to find out what she'll do when she knows.
sailor moon | usagi/mamoru | general spoilers/AU | 5,027 words, PG
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Monday, two bodies are pulled from the water. A lift dangles a little car from a hook; a mix of weeds spill out of an open door. The detective that watches all of this is the one that sits with Usagi in Mamoru's apartment.
Kris sits on the arm of her chair. Usagi stares blankly at the space in front of her; she has no idea where the others are, remembering vaguely that Mamoru had a meeting with someone.
"Do you recognize this, Tsukino-san?"
The detective slides two bags onto the coffee table; the wedding rings cause her throat to tighten. But it's the second bag that she picks up, her hands shaking. Her nails dig into the bag, pulling at the plastic. It's a bracelet. The charms are in different states, the gold spoiled and green from the water. She tries to swallow. When Kris' hand settles on her shoulder, she realizes she's let out some kind of sob.
"There are supposed to be seven charms," she says quietly. Her eyes are burning. "Shingo and I were saving up to buy Mama the sea horse one that she liked so much."
"I'm sorry," the detective says. He gently tugs the bag from her hand.
Kris clears his throat. "Is there anything else you need?"
The detective looks at him and then Usagi. He runs a hand through his hair.
"Once we finish processing, we'll need a secondary confirmation -" Usagi is wide-eyed. Her mouth opens and closes. "We'll call you into the station. Are there any other relatives that could come and..."
She watches the mouth of the detective move. She doesn't really hear anything; she knows what he's asking. The truth is that both Shingo and Usagi knew how tight-lipped their parents were about their lives. From what she knows, her father was practically disowned for marrying her mother. On her mother's side, there two more brothers. The first is a doctor in the States, the second is a monk and left the family when her mother was a girl. Her mother never talked about her parents either.
"There's just Shingo and I," she says. Her hands press against her face. Her stomach is starting to tighten into knots. "I'll do whatever needs to be done." She feels the tears start to blur and fall. She wipes away at them hard. "But," she says. Her voice evens and is firm. "I will not let my brother see my parents in - in anyway other than what he knows."
There is a strange feeling in the room. It grows heavier when Kris straightens next to her and the detective looks at her with a misplaced sense of awe.
Usagi drops her hands into her lap. The man clears his throat, looking away. His fingers touch the badge over his jacket.
"I understand," he says.
Usagi does not pull Shingo out of school. Her age feels like a sudden authority. She waits until Mamoru brings him home, Minako in tow; the other girl has an arm slung around her brother and when they see her, Shingo is the first to stop.
It's a moment that will forever engrave itself onto her mind, the way his smile fades and his gaze becomes unsteady. He stands taller and Minako's arm drops from his shoulder, as he takes a step forward. He doesn't look like her brother and she feels her own self-resentment begin to crawl inside of her. She doesn't move either, not yet, and draws her arms over herself, hugging herself tightly.
"Let's take a walk," she says quietly.
Shingo nods. He hands his school bag to Minako and Usagi moves forward, letting her brother take her arm.
Usagi can feel them watch her the entire time.
"I want to go with you," Shingo says after awhile. "You shouldn't have to do it alone, neechan."
All she can really do is stare at her brother. They've stopped at the park, the two of them settled at a bench that over looks the swings. Shingo reaches for her, touching her arm tentatively as she forces herself to smile sadly.
"No," she says. "I don't want you to see them like that -"
"Usagi," he interrupts.
"No," she insists. Her eyes feel warm again. She presses her hands to her face, her fingers digging into her temples. "You need to have good memories of them, of the way they should be - I want you to live your life knowing Mama and Daddy like they - they -"
She can't finish. She doesn't cry. She just sits back against the bench and stares. Shingo mirrors her, shaking his head and then leans forward to rest his elbows against his knees.
There are so many things going through her head. She wonders if her parents are just another casualty in these monster attacks. She cannot think of them as scared. There is an incredible amount of guilt that comes with that; she doesn't know what to do with it or understand it.
Shingo shifts next to her. He doesn't touch her, but he doesn't pull away either.
"Take Mamoru-san with you," he murmurs. "Please don't go alone."
Usagi can't look at him when she answers. "Okay," she says.
The call comes just as Usagi starts returning to normal habits, like homework and tentative conversations with friends. She talks to Minako and the other girls the most; they visit from day to day, overwhelming meals and checking up on her brother. There's Naru too, just Naru though, who comes around just barely by phone, asking how she is.
But when she gets the call, she knocks on Mamoru's door - she shares a room with Shingo down the hall - biting her lip as he answers. He's sleepy, despite the early morning stride, and she's tugging her sweater around her.
"I need you to take me to -" her eyes close and she looks down.
"Come in," he says, not even hesitating. "Let me get dressed."
Her cheeks flush. She moves into the room, tightening her arms around herself as he closes the door behind her. The bed is a neat mess, something she finds incredibly odd and funny nonetheless. She sits at the edge of it, looking up at him.
"Thanks," she murmurs.
He shakes his head. "It's not necessary." He tugs a shirt on. "We - me - I'm here for you, for whatever you need."
"I feel like we're taking advantage of you - your kindness," she mumbles.
He scoffs.
"I'm serious," she insists, and it's hard, being in his bedroom. She's flushing and her hands wring in her lap, her legs twitching to curl underneath her. "I don't want you to think that's the case. I hope that you don't - I can't -" she doesn't want to owe him any favors, she thinks seriously. But she can't even finish that sentence.
"I know," he tells her.
His fingers fumble over the buttons of his shirt. He stops and moves to where she sits, taking the spot next to her.
"I want you here," he says.
She smiles sadly. She doesn't know what to say; there's only so many times she can insist how little he knows about her or how little she knows of him. She's tired. She's just tired. She doesn't want to argue anymore - or feel like it in the very least.
"Thank you," she says.
His hand brushes against his shoulder, then back of her neck. He pulls her close to him, into him, his arm resting against her shoulders.
He presses his lips against her forehead.
The morgue is cold. The walls are all white; Mamoru's hands have moved to her shoulders. There is Kris and Minako too, Minako holding her hand and Kris standing on the other side of Mamoru. Usagi tightens her grip on Minako's hand.
"I'm right here," the other girl says quietly.
She'll never forget how surreal everything is. They have her standing in front of a glass, the curtains drawn forward tightly. It's bad enough that she knows exactly what is on the other side and how it'll simply just change everything.
Slowly, she lets go of Minako's hand and draws away from Mamoru. The detective appears at the side and she moves forward to touch the glass. She doesn't remember taking a deep breath, but her mouth opens and closes and she finds herself relaying a nod to the officer. He taps the glass and she steels herself.
Her hand covers her mouth.
It's like the monsters, she thinks first. The break in skin; the way her mother seems so inexplicably pale, her hair flattened back and her hands folded across her chest. She is a mix of horrified and shock. Her eyes blur and takes more than a moment to look at her father - it's her father - body stretched out, sunk against the cold slab and she just knows. It's all connected, she thinks. It has to be.
"Tsukino-san?"
She looks up, trembling. The detective steps closer to her. Mamoru's arm slides around her waist and both Minako and Kris seem to flank both of their sides again.
"That's them," she says. "That's my mother and father."
"I'm so sorry, Tsukino-san."
Her eyes burn. She looks up at him again. "I want to know what happened -"
"Usagi," Minako starts.
"No," she snaps, her gaze steadying on the detective. She straightens against Mamoru, her mouth tightening. "I want to know what happened to them. I want to know why this took so long - why weren't - why - why."
She breaks and she breaks hard, stumbling into a sob as Mamoru wraps her into him. She half-clutches, half-hits at his jacket, her fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. She doesn't think anymore. It's all about monsters and secrets and things that she can't even begin to wrap her head around and somewhere, somehow, it just levels itself as completely and utterly unfair. That's what she hates most about it.
So she sobs and there are half-murmurs around her, fingers in her hair and an ease that she should question but she doesn't because for once, for once, she wants to be selfish about something and then mean it. She knows that this means she's going to have to carry her family now, her brother, herself - it's what her parents would have wanted.
This, she promises herself too, will be the last time she cries in front of all of them.
It doesn't quite hit her until they return home - to Mamoru's home - where she stands in the kitchen, flanked by Minako and Kris and Mamoru, all watching her as if she were just that ready to snap. She pours herself a glass of water from the sink.
"What can we do?" Minako asks quietly. She steps forward first, sliding an arm around Usagi's waist. Usagi ignores her for a moment, pressing the glass to her lips. "I can call the other girls -" she adds. "I'm sure," she says dryly. "Mamoru-san won't mind."
There is a low growl and Usagi isn't in the mood, stepping between the group and then pulling away. She takes her water, making a fist around her glass.
"I need some air," she says.
She barely gives any of them a second look, moving into the hall and down the line to the bedrooms. She walks into the room she shares with Shingo, leaning back against the bed and settling on the floor.
Her gaze settles on the carpet. She can't erase the memories of her parents now; the way her mother's hair was slicked back, the twin, pale pallors of her parents' skin. She wonders if they were hurt, if they felt pain - she stops that thought, right there, her stomach lurching into knots. Putting the glass of water down next to her, she draws her legs up to her chest.
Mamoru comes in sometime after, not long - she isn't sure. But he comes and sits next to her on the floor, sliding his arm around her shoulders. His mouth presses into her hair.
"This shouldn't have happened to you," he says quietly.
She chokes over a laugh. Her eyes close tightly and she curls a hand into his shirt.
"I'm sorry it did," he says too. "If I could, if I could, I'd take it all away from you. You and your brother," he adds.
"But you can't," she says.
"No," he agrees. His fingers tighten in her hair, dragging briefly to run against the back of her neck. His fingers press lazily over her skin. "But I can be here. I can be here for whatever you need from me."
It's not the right thing to say. She doesn't really know if there is. But it's just the way his arm settles around her shoulders, the way he keeps her close and she doesn't feel like she needs anything else. For a moment, she thinks, for a moment it feels like it's just that easy to shut the world out and forget, forget that everything has changed and she cannot begin to understand where she stands now.
Somehow it doesn't matter. She doesn't know how long they stay like this.
She wakes up in the dark, shooting up. Her eyes are heavy. She makes a fist in the sheets; it's Mamoru's room, she realizes instantly. The blankets rest lazily over her legs and she cannot remember how she got here. She remembers sitting with him in her own room though.
"Hey."
Usagi blinks. Mamoru shifts off of a chair, sinking into the bed next to her. His fingers touch her face and she turns her cheek, letting out a soft sigh.
"You're okay," he murmurs too.
"No," she says. "I'm not."
She doesn't cry, but she swings her legs off the bed, in between his and falls slightly against his knees. She feels his fingers slip into her hair too. He rolls them slowly, lazily, as if to try and comfort her. She tries and focuses on the change in pressure, the way his fingers seem to know how to push away some of her tension.
It takes awhile for her to look up at him. Her hand reaches for his wrist, her fingers curling around it to still his hand. His gaze meets hers.
"I have to make arrangements," she says softly.
"I know."
"I don't know their families," she says too. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth. "Shingo and I - everything about Mama and Daddy's families are … empty and I don't think I can handle another Auntie. I don't know what's real and what's fake anymore except -" Her hand frames her face. "Except that I saw them at the police station like that."
Mamoru shakes his head. "One thing at a time," he tells her. He pulls her hand away from her face. Tugging at it, she finds herself being pulled into his lap. "You don't need to take it in all like this. I'm not saying that it's not hard - but, but you can't take on all this responsibility and feel like it's just yours to bear. You always did do that."
She blinks. "What?"
He clears his throat. She sits up, confused.
"Mamoru?"
"Nothing," he says. He touches her cheek. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," she mutters, looking away. "You and Minako and the others are the same - you don't think I notice? The way you look at me like I'm someone else. I don't understand it. I don't think I'll ever understand it, but it's not fair. It's not fair because I'm starting to trust you and my brother's involved and honestly, honestly, Mamoru, I told you before. He's the most important person in my life now."
"Hey," he says. His hands frame her face. "Hey, I know. Take a deep breath."
She feels his hand move back against her neck too, his fingers spreading along the long line of her throat. She shudders and sighs, biting back another moment where she feels like she's going to cry. It's deep in her throat, deep in her heart, and somehow, somehow she forces herself to control that kind of release. It's frightening how instinctive it all feels.
"You're too good at this," she mumbles.
He laughs. "Not really," he says. She looks up at him. His mouth twists. "You'll find that I just tend to have better days."
She shakes her head. "You're so silly."
"So you tell me," he says softly.
It's when she settles that she catches that gaze, the gaze again. His eyes are soft. It's the way his mouth seems to relax too, his fingers pulling at her hair.
There is so much she wants to ask; it comes in spades, in moments that she's not really sure are questions that she should ask or shouldn't. They feel too unfamiliar, another part of how complicated and how uncanny all of this is. She misses her parents, she thinks. She misses that sense of normalcy she had; it's more than that though. She wonders if this is what growing up is supposed to feel like.
Her eyes start to close again. "Go to sleep," Mamoru says. "I'll be here."
She believes him.
The dream is lazier than before. She feels the grass between her toes and giggles, off-putting and confused. Her hands are in fists, around the fabric of her dress, and she sort of spins to the side, her mouth breaking into a smile.
"You're drunk," comes the voice behind her.
"I'm alive," she corrects.
She turns on her heels. Her head tilts to the side. The shadow form the figure of a man. There is a sword at his side. By all accounts, he is an imposing figure but she isn't intimidated at all.
"Serenity," the man warns.
"Endymion," she sings back, the name stumbling out of her mouth with incredible ease. Her mouth tilts and she sweeps herself into a low, low curtsy. "My prince," she drawls too. "I trust the Lady Edith has kept your bed sufficiently warm."
"Jealous, princess?"
She scoffs. "You take me for an idiot, Endymion," she says. She swings into a spin, craning her neck back. The moon seems unusual bright, waiting for her. She tilts her head to the side again, calming. "I wasn't sent for you," she says quietly, seriously. "I was sent to give a gesture of good will and - " the words are there: see you, but she cannot bring herself to say it. "I am not a fool, your grace."
There is a hand on her arm, then her shoulder as she turns. A hand presses against her cheek.
"Forgive me," he mumbles.
"No," she says. Her mouth twitches. "It's not supposed to be that easy - Venus says I should, by all rights, be able to torture you."
He lets out a dark laugh, pulling her close. Her eyes close when she feels his mouth graze her jaw. His fingers work their way into her hair, pulling at the strands.
"She hates me," he mumbles.
"She does." Her lips brush against his shoulder. She tastes the cool fabric of his cape. "You haven't given her any reason not to."
It feels dark and complicated, the weight of their reactions and whatever relationship is theirs to hold. She leans back, just a little, her mouth curling into a lazy smile. It's the wine, she thinks. The wine was supposed to give her a little more courage. But his knuckles graze her cheek.
"I won't hurt you," he says softly.
She doesn't answer. The words are there, linger: yes, yes you will.
The Temple is an odd source of comfort. Rei sits next to her on the steps, their hands holding tea that her grandfather has made for the both of them.
The funeral is in a few days, and in a few days more, Usagi is going back to school, back to a life, back to something. There are nerves and anticipation and she is less and less concerned with how people are going to be watching her. She thinks it's Shingo, although she knows it's completely unfair to put that kind of silent pressure on her brother. It just gives her some focus, a chance at having some focus.
"Thank you," she tells Rei. She looks up at the older girl. "For the arrangements," she murmurs. "For helping," she adds.
Rei softens. "Anything you need," she says simply.
Usagi flushes and tightens her grip around her tea. "Still," she manages. "You were very patient with me and with - everything."
"Usagi," the other girl says. Her fingers curl around her wrist. "You need to stop taking this on all by yourself. No one expects you to take it all on. You're human."
She shakes her head. "I don't feel like it," she says.
Rei laughs.
There is something about the Temple, she thinks again. Looking down the stairs, she sees the slow passing of people, going up and down with offerings and prayers. Rei is dressed simply today, in jeans and a blouse. She sits closer to Usagi too, watching the people as well; Usagi feels as if her gaze is much more careful though.
But she enjoys the colors and the sights, the way the trees seem to blossom around her. It's the smile of those families that pass them too and then the simple bitterness that the tea warms against her tongue.
"Do you believe in dreams?" she finds herself asking. She doesn't look at Rei. It feels so strange; it's a partial admission, maybe even nothing. The words just feel comfortable being directed towards Rei.
"I do," Rei murmurs. She seems careful, maybe too careful. "I think there's a tremendous sense of meaning in them. They're always important."
Usagi's hand brushes through her hair. "Important how?" she asks too.
Rei shrugs. "I think they're usually where the answers are -" she laughs, shaking her head. "Even if we don't believe them. Or we're frightened - mostly, I think, we're frightened of the answers that dreams give us."
"Answers," Usagi echoes.
Rei touches her arm. Usagi bites her lip, studying her hand. It seems familiar, stupidly familiar - she wonders if she's reading too much into these gestures, between the girls and Mamoru and everything else. She's just exhausted too. It could be all a part of that.
She thinks about her dreams though; she hasn't tried to piece them together. It seems reckless and silly, it seems like the answers should just be right there and yet, right now, they're not. She wants to be angry that they're not.
But Rei's question drops and drops in a way that Usagi cannot avoid answering.
"What's bothering you?"
Usagi's mouth twitches. "Everything," she says.
Justin takes them to lunch. He wraps an arm around Usagi's shoulder, grinning at a bemused Rei. The conversation is warm, but Usagi isn't really paying any attention. Her mind belongs a million miles away as it is.
But she does watch them, watches as their body language seems to unravel in a mix of comfort and discomfort, a lazy paradox that she doesn't even know how to understand. It still feels familiar though and when she leans closer to Justin, he smiles down at her and Rei leans forward to touch her cheek as well.
"Stop it," she says. Her mouth curls in amusement. "You can't hide your worrying well."
"I -" Usagi blushes, ducking against Justin's arm. "Sorry."
"Girls," Justin warns teasingly. "We're going to have a good day today."
"Ugh." Rei's nose wrinkles. "Stop ruining the moment."
"I am not," he says. "I'm just saying, we're going to have a good day and Usagi's going to laugh and maybe, just maybe, you'll finally make out with me."
"What?" Rei's eyes narrow, and Usagi covers her mouth with her hand, hiding a laugh. Justin smirks in amusement. But Rei pokes him in the chest. "You - you need to keep that stuff to yourself, okay? Minako hates you enough as it is."
"But Usagi-chan doesn't, right?"
Usagi blinks, flushing. She feels like she's being pulled into an argument that she has no room to be in or stand on her own.
"Don't bring Usagi-chan into this," Rei says. "You just like getting me into trouble, you jerk. That's what you do best."
"I don't hate anybody," she mumbles.
They both look at her in surprise; they've stopped outside of the Arcade, both of them standing too close to Usagi. Justin grins and Rei reaches forward to tug her hair.
Nobody says i know.
"How long have you known each other?"
The question seems reasonable enough. She isn't surprised when both Rei and Justin look up at her; Rei is prone to amusement, but Justin's gaze is unreadable. She bites her lip and curls her legs together, rubbing her palms against her knees.
"Long enough," Rei mutters.
Justin rolls his eyes. There's a slight hesitation in his voice. "For awhile," he says carefully. "Rei and I knew each other after Kris -"
"Minako," Rei corrects, interrupting. "Knew everybody first. We just all … it fell into place," she says quickly. "I think she, Kris, and Mamoru knew each other the longest."
Usagi stares at her hands. Lunch has been relatively pleasant enough, she thinks. The barbs feel familiar and warm her in the oddest of ways. She wants to reach out and touch Rei's arm or laugh at Justin and tell him to stop being an idiot, which she's sure, in some way, he already knows.
She thinks of Mamoru then, of their own shared awareness of all these stupid secrets. She wonders if he would tell her, should she ask him. She wonders if it's just that easy to say - tell me everything. He doesn't seem like the type to give it up.
"Why?" Justin asks gently.
"I don't know," she admits. She bites her lip. There is a strong, overwhelming need to keep her conversations with Mamoru private. But, she thinks, they are a part of this too. "I feel like," she says slowly, "there are things that I should know - it doesn't make any sense. Maybe I'm tired, maybe I'm - I'm just caught up in everything."
"What do you feel like you should know?" Justin presses. Rei shoots him a dirty look, but he's turning towards her, leaning over the table. His fingers touch her knuckles. "You can talk us, you know. Tell us anything."
It feels too personal. She draws back.
"I feel like I'm losing sight of myself," she says; it's scary, how real that feels.
The door to the bedroom is open. The curtains to the balcony pull back, wiping against the slight breeze. The light is there too; Kris steps through, finding the Prince leaning against the balcony railing. He nurses a drink, lifting it when Kris comes to settle next to him.
"She's going to be angry," the Prince says.
"Rightfully so." Kris straightens against the railing. He turns and leans against it, shoving his hands into his pockets. "We can only hide this from her for so long."
"They're insistent," the Prince agrees.
"They know she's the one."
"We're going to have to push." The color of the Prince's voice is unsettling. Kris watches his mouth set into a deep frown. It's the warrior, he thinks. "I don't want to push her," he says too. "But there is no other way to -"
"You'll do what you think is best, your grace," Kris tells him.
The other man's mouth twists. "Always with the right things to say." He flicks his wrist, the ice in his glass clicking together. "She did like you best," he says.
Kris laughs, but the sound is too soft. His memories of the woman are selective and warm, the slight touches against his face, familiar and of a family that he could've had. It makes things desperately sad, heavier even.
"But she loved you."
The Prince sighs, rubbing his eyes. He brings the drink to his mouth. They both know that the safest place for both Usagi and her brother is here, in the apartment, among the others and, much to the Prince's reluctance, the girls. They cannot take them away from this either. He knows that Minako is biding time, as well as the Prince, but they are both keeping their sides to themselves. Usagi will never be able to pick.
"The Dark Kingdom has been watching her for a long time," Kris murmurs then. "How long - we don't know. Venus seems to think that the family had something to do with it too."
"It's already devastated her," the Prince murmurs.
"And you're surprised?"
Kris watches a dark smile cross the Prince's mouth. They have been together the longest; much like all aspects of their lives. He thinks the darkest memory for his Prince, however, is the subsequent murder of his beloved - it still feels odd and cold to think of the girl this way, especially when she stands in front of them daily now, bright and flushed, sad but so alive nonetheless.
"She'll hate me," the Prince says. "I don't think - I can't have her hating me. It would kill me all over again. I can't have Venus or the others being right again. I know she dreams too. I know because I've sat -" His hand presses against his face. "I've heard her talk in her sleep."
Kris shakes his head. "She didn't hate you."
"Kunzite," the Prince warns, a deep growl. Kris straightens at his given name, his eyes darkening. But his mouth twists too and the Prince finishes off his drink. "I won't make the same mistakes," he says quietly, dangerously.
They hear the door open from outside the room, the bedroom and then Justin's laughter signaling the return of Usagi. They hear Shingo too and Kris grabs the glass from the Prince's hand, pushing the Prince into standing straighter.
There is never anything right to say.