Sailor Moon Fic: oh the strangeness of your charm
I’m pretty sure I’m not as happy with this as I should be. Probably because I’m reading so much shojo manga or whatever. But here we go. Sailor Moon AUs ahoy!
For tosca1390. Who basically lets me torture with ideas and things. No really. She does.
oh the strangeness of your charm
it’s a smaller universe than you think. usagi, mamoru, and the merits of a clumsy romance. sailor moon | usagi/mamoru | AU | 9,201 words, R.
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The girls outside the classroom are huddled in a half-circle. There are a lot of whispers, and the sound of paper tear is too loud and too noticeable against the door, even as people gather at the fringes.
Usagi finds Minako on one of the window ledges. Her best friend waves and she drops her bag with hers on the floor, sliding herself up to sit next to the other girl. She has a straw in her mouth and then offers Minako her soda, watching in amusement, as the group of girls gets larger.
“How long this time?”
Minako snorts. “Twenty minutes early according to Honda-san?” The soda snaps open and she steals a sip before handing it back to Usagi. “Someone’s already fainted too - the boys have a bet that it’s going to end up being a love confession war between Yuki-san and Naru.”
She slides a straw into the soda. “Confession war?”
The door opens though. Usagi’s voice is drowned out by the girls’ cries of sensei and have this from me! as the rest of the school seems to gather around and watch the insanity unfold.
“Is that him?” she asks, then, and the teacher slips out of the door, the rest of his class following behind him. He greets all the girls with a smile, patting their heads and creating enough space for the others to slip through.
“That’s Chiba-sensei,” Minako tells her. “Handsome, right?”
And he is, she thinks. His eyes are dark. His mouth slides into more lazy amusement as he steps around two more crying girls. She watches him tuck his books under his arms. Then he looks up.
He meets her gaze. Usagi smiles.
She thinks nothing of it, of course.
Minako has her by the hand, dragging her down the street and into her city. She is supposed to meet her brother for dinner at his apartment, although she isn’t entirely sure how her best friend roped herself into this.
“Mina-chan,” she breathes. “Mina-chan. Kris isn’t going anywhere. I know you want to give him a piece of your mind, but it would be silly for him to move in just to move out, don’t you think?”
Her friend stops, flustered. Usagi’s amusement is clear.
“Sorry,” Minako mutters, cheeks growing brighter in color as she rubs the back of her head too.
In front of them, the apartment complex finally comes into view. She cannot remember if her brother said the third floor or the fifth, and she pulls her hand out of Minako’s, grabbing the piece of paper with directions.
She hasn’t seen Kris since she was twelve, right as he moved out and went abroad to study. She adored him too. No one was surprised that he didn’t come back. She was sad, she remembers, maybe more sad than she’ll ever admit to. But like everyone else, she understood.
“I don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”
Minako blinks. “Hello?”
She flushes. “You know what I mean.” Usagi sighs. “I’m not a little kid anymore. He’s been - he really stopped being my onii-chan when I was twelve, if anything.”
Her friend laughs softly. She reaches forward, her fingers brushing though Usagi’s hair. She rests her forehead against hers.
“Silly Usa-chan,” she murmurs. “He’s the idiot.”
“And you want to tell him to his face, right?”
Minako smirks. “Well, there’s that.” But then she grows serious, her fingers threading through more strands. “You’re going to be fine, okay? And it was nice of him to invite me along - ”
“ - too,” Minako finishes at the door. Her eyes are wide.
Usagi stands next to her, her fingers curled in her jacket. It’s the right apartment, she thinks. She looks down at the paper in Minako’s hand and then back up again at the view.
The music is loud. There is more than a crowd of people gathered. She sees wine and then a skyline of the city, the lights fleshing against the windows. The women are beautiful too, gorgeous dresses, flushed with laughter, and all she can do is pull at her jacket tightly again.
“Dinner,” she says quietly. “That’s what he said.”
“What an asshole,” Minako hisses. “What the hell? What is going on?”
But Usagi doesn’t answer. She doesn’t do well with crowds, with this kind of crowd. She feels warm and uncomfortable, inching closer to her friend as she takes a step back. Her brother won’t miss her, she thinks. They’ll call from outside and she’ll drag Minako off to dinner somewhere else.
“Aino-san?”
Minako stiffens, Usagi looks up, and it’s the teacher from earlier, she realizes. Her friend links her arm through hers though.
“Chiba-sensei,” she greets. Usagi looks at her, then back at him. Minako’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t know you were friends with Usagi’s brother.”
“Brother?” he asks.
Usagi clears her throat. “Kris,” she murmurs.
She takes him in too. He’s wearing a suit, or almost a suit, his tie open and skewed around his neck. His hands shove into his books and he meets her gaze without any hesitation. She tries not to blush.
“We were supposed to have dinner tonight,” she adds.
He seems to soften. Then he sighs. Minako’s fingers dig into her elbow.
“Ah,” he says. “You’re Usa-chan. The way he talks about you it made it seem like you were twelve. And you’re in none of my classes - I thought you were in the elementary school.”
“I’m a senior,” she says dryly.
He laughs, shaking his head. “I see that now.”
“What’s going on?” Minako asks.
He shrugs. He says something about a party, but Usagi’s attention is quickly drawn back into the fray of the crowd. Her hand brushes against her throat and the dizziness comes back again.
There are too many people here, she thinks. She sees a woman and a man press into a corner, the man leaning over her. There’s a flush and she really shouldn’t be thinking much of what’s happening. Her head feels heavy though and Minako’s hand curls back around her arm.
“Usa-chan,” she murmurs.
She blinks. “I’m fine.” She bows her head, smiling softly. “It was nice to see you, Chiba-sensei. If you could tell my brother -”
“Ugh,” Minako says. “I’ll be fast - I’m going to see if I can find him.”
“Mina -”
Her friend smiles at the man in front of her. “Chiba-sensei,” she says seriously. “If you could take Usa-chan outside for some air - she doesn’t do well in crowds and if I’m going to yell at her brother, I might as well just make an ass of myself alone.”
Usagi flushes. Minako grins, guiding his hand to her arm. He grips it gently and then Minako bounds off.
“Are you all right?”
She can’t look up. “Yes,” she murmurs, and he leads her deeper inside, away from the group in the apartment.
There is a small exit through the kitchen. Then she finds herself being pulled out into a balcony. The air is cool and she finally picks at her jacket, running her fingers against her throat.
She can’t really bring herself to come to terms with the fact that she’s standing in her brother’s place and he isn’t anywhere to be found.
Then she laughs. “Oh god,” she breathes, pressing a hand to her face. “Of course,” she murmurs. “Of course.”
“Tsukino-san?”
“Usagi,” she says, looking up. His hand is on her arm. “It’s Usagi,” she says again.
“Mamoru, then.” His voice is warm. “You’re not in any of my classes,” he tells her. “So it’s a little less weird.”
She snorts. “Thank you?”
He laughs, leaning against the railing. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
It’s so strange, suddenly talking to a teacher like this. The whole day has been rather weird as it is, she thinks. She feels uncomfortable and exposed; outside, there’s just a little more room to breathe.
She tries to picture her brother. Her mother said that he looks good. Her father said that Kris is still Kris and that the photos that she tries to go back over in her head are not misplaced. She just wants to see him in person and suddenly, with everything, that seems to be so much to ask.
“How do you know my brother, Mamoru-kun?”
She meets his gaze. He seems surprised.
“We went to school together,” he says.
“I see.”
His lips curl. “I see why he always let us assume that his sister was a little girl too,” he murmurs. She’s startled, flushing. “I’d do the same thing.”
Her hand brushes against her cheek. Then she shakes her head.
“Eh,” she says, embarrassed. “We were supposed to have dinner tonight,” she tells him. “It was just going to be the two of us -”
He laughs. The sound is low and he touches her arm. “It wasn’t his fault,” he says. “Things - this wasn’t his fault,” he repeats.
He’s serious then, earnest even, and she doesn’t know what to make of that. He feels closer too, leaning over her. His fingers brush against her face, just over her bangs. It’s just that slight, but she feels it, biting the inside of her cheek to force herself to take a deep breath.
She swallows. “All right, Chiba-sensei.”
“Mamoru,” he corrects.
Usagi smiles. They are quiet for a little while.
Mamoru disappears to grab her water. She stays resting against the railing. When she turns, she’s greeted by the city and not the party; just listening to the sounds of conversation and music makes it a little easier.
He’s different, she thinks. Or allows herself to think. Her mouth turns and she rests her chin against her hand.
“You’re not twelve.”
She blinks. “I’m sorry?” and when she turns, there is a man leaning against the frame of the door, cigarettes in hand.
He’s handsome, bright-eyed. His jacket is sort of tucked haphazardly over his shirt. He grins at her, leaning forward.
“You’re not twelve.”
“Do I know you?”
He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “No,” he tells her. “But I know you.”
“Stop being an idiot.”
Mamoru appears from around him, pushing him to the side and coming back to join her in the balcony. He hands her a glass of water.
“She’s really not twelve though,” the man says.
"No kidding," he mutters. He stays close to her. “This is Jason,” he introduces her. “He’s another friend of your brother’s.”
Minako is still gone and Usagi is growing more uncomfortable again, gripping her glass tightly. It’s just that there is no sense of familiarity around her. She doesn’t know how to fit herself in just yet, or if that even matters if anything at all. Jason takes the other side of her, sliding a cigarette into his mouth.
"You're eighteen, right?" he asks, and Mamoru reaches over her from the other side, hitting the back of his head. "Shit," Jason mutters. "Untoward, dude."
Her lips press against her glass. "I'm handy with sharp objects too," she says.
"That's uncomfortable."
Usagi smiles at Jason. "Fencing captain," she says, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Mina-chan also insists I take judo and self-defense lessons with her too. So there's that. I’m just not good with crowds," she finishes quietly.
"Mina-chan?"
"That would be me." They all look at her friend, standing in the doorframe. Her smile is sharp. "And, dude, I eat guys like you for breakfast."
"It's true," both Usagi and Mamoru say. They look at each other; Usagi is blushing, Mamoru runs the back of his head. "The boys in my third period are in love and afraid of her," he says.
"It's a tough gig," Minako quips.
She then turns to Usagi, nodding back inside. People are still here and she doesn't see her brother anywhere. They share a look and she sighs softly, handing Mamoru her water back.
Everything wraps up that fast. She should be glad to get out of here. She doesn’t even know what else to think about her brother and his friends. Maybe he forgot, she thinks too. But there's something even more disheartening that lingers. She pushes it down and then leans up, brushing her lips against Mamoru's cheek.
"Thank you for keeping me company, Chiba-sensei," she says, pulling back to leave. There is no time for a proper goodbye. She moves to Minako then and lets her friend take her hand.
She doesn't look back. Her face is warm.
This is how it starts.
The messages on her phone from Kris are ignored. She isn’t quite sure what to say to him yet, even with Mamoru’s words ringing back over in her head: not his fault. She's busy enough as it is, between classes and meets, student council and her friends. But like clockwork, Minako always asks her to meet her outside of the biology classroom with the others.
The girls line up at the door, clutching their bags and gifts, giggling as they talk about chiba-sensei and his mysterious smile. Usagi watches too, a little sad, a little curious; the whole thing is strange too.
"Good luck on your meet today!" one of the boys tells her, passing. She smiles in kind, already braiding her hair back for later.
Minako has her court of admirers too, all chatting to her smiles. She's barely paying any attention anyway and hands Usagi a piece of her chocolate.
The door to the classroom opens and everyone goes quiet.
Then it's pandemonium.
"Chiba-sensei!" and "Oh, Chiba-sensei, take my gift!" fill the hallway. Her eyes are wide as the teacher in question stumbles out into the hall and his class can barely follow. A girl stumbles and falls, her papers going everywhere. People start stepping on them too, grabbing at his arms.
"This is ridiculous," she murmurs.
Usagi pushes herself off the ledge, smoothing her skirt.
"Usa-chan?" Minako asks.
She ignores her friend, heading to the girl as she struggles to pick up her things. Her gaze meets Mamoru's then too and she sighs.
"Stop."
Everyone freezes - the girls, boys, Mamoru. They stare at her, but she kneels and helps the girl instead.
"I'm sure," she says calmly, "that if you paid a little more attention to others, Chiba-sensei would appreciate at it - right?"
The papers are heavy against her chest, but she helps the girl up and to her feet. She's blushing and Usagi offers a warm smile to her, patting her head and then meeting Mamoru's gaze.
"Right." His eyes darken. "Yes," he licks his lips. "That's right."
“Thank you, Usagi-san!”
She smiles at the girl again. The others, they watch her, even more wide-eyed than before. A few boys whistle and Minako is grinning at her, an odd sort of grin, as she turns around and heads back to her bag.
She does not meet Mamoru’s gaze again.
The towel is soft in her hands. The last of her teammates leave the gym and she moves to sit with her bag.
“Usagi.”
She looks up as she slides down to the ground. Mamoru is walking to her, fitting into a jacket. It’s leather and for whatever reason, that amuses her - the picture in her head is a mix of motorcycles, cigarettes, and wrinkled suits. For whatever reason, it seems to fit him.
Still she clears her throat. “Chiba-sensei.”
He smiles, moving to lean against the wall where she sits. His hands slide into his pockets.
“Even now,” he murmurs. “You’re still so polite.”
“We are at school.”
He laughs. “Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I saw some of your meet today too,” he tells her.
She’s surprised. She turns her head to hide her blush, reaching for her water bottle. She presses it to her lips and manages to mumble a thank you all the same.
“You’re good,” he says to her.
“I could be better,” she replies. Her thumb brushes over the lip of her bottle. “It helps me focus,” she says. “I was a terrible student before I came to high school and then fencing happened and -”
Mamoru chuckles. “It’s a compliment, Usagi.”
“I’m not good at those either,” she mumbles.
He laughs again, and then slides down to sit next to her, stretching his legs out. He sighs and shakes his head.
“You were remarkable.”
“Sensei?”
He meets her gaze. “Mamoru is fine,” he murmurs. “No one else is here.” He touches her arm too. “But really - like this morning too - watching you during meet was something else.”
She doesn’t really know how to take that either. There is a burn in her throat and it trickles down. She swallows hard, pressing her hands to her face as she drags her legs against her chest.
“Mamoru-san,” she says. “I - ”
His lips curl and he meets her gaze.
“Compliments for you,” he says. “Attention for me. I’m not good with any sort of attention at all.”
She laughs this time, the sound full and warm. She tilts her head back and her hair falls into her eyes.
“Now that’s a lie, Mamoru-san,” she says, amused. “I don’t believe that one at all. Sensei seems very cool.”
He snorts. “You should ask your brother. That’s so not true.”
She makes a soft sound, shaking her head. She should change, she thinks. There is homework to do. She could call her brother. She feels irreversibly shy as it is.
“Maybe,” she says anyway.
“You’re different,” he blurts then.
Her eyes widen. His mouth twists. He draws his leg up too, resting his arm against his knee. She watches as he looks down.
“I’m nothing special, sensei,” she says quietly, gently even. She reaches over, touching his arm without thinking.
But he doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t press, letting her fingers linger. She sighs then too. She pushes herself up to stand, her hair falling into her eyes. Her blush is faint but she feels it more than usual. She doesn’t know why.
He lets her go.
“Minako says I am a terrible older brother.”
Usagi freezes in the kitchen. Her hands hover over her tea.
“Onii-san?” she asks, almost breathless. She has her homework upstairs and her parents are gone for the evening, something about an event or two - she wasn’t paying any attention.
But when she turns, Kris is there, he’s right there.
Kris is handsome, has always been incredibly handsome and intimidating to stand next to. They are strange copies of each other: long hair, bright eyes, him with his smile. In the kitchen, he looks like he doesn’t belong here. He wears a suit, the trench coat open at his sides. His hands hold a pair of gloves and he leans against the side of the door.
“Key’s in the same place,” he says lazily.
“Mom,” she murmurs.
“I figured.” He smiles, moving to the counter. He drops his gloves and leans over it, brushing her hair from her eyes. “How are you, Usa-chan?”
She blinks.
“How long are you back?” she counters.
It finally registers too: minako says. She wonders if her friend did find him during the party. But then again, Minako has always had an odd sort of relationship with her brother.
She gently bats his hand away though. She turns with a flush too, reaching for her tea. Her thumbs hook over the rim of the cup.
“I don’t know,” he tells her.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
He chuckles. “Yes.” Then, he moves to her side of the counter. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she echoes, shrugging. “I haven’t seen you in years. I get a card here and there - I’m not mad, onii-san. I understand that you have your life, but …”
“Dinner was my fault,” he murmurs. He shakes his head. “Well, more like Jason’s, but - I should have said something.”
She remembers his apartment. She remembers standing with Mamoru outside. The conversation is faint in her head - it doesn’t matter really. He was there and that, somehow, has turned into meaning something. Probably more than it should.
She makes a soft sound, shaking her head.
“I understand.”
He sighs. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“Chiba-sensei kept me company,” she says.
“Mamoru?”
He looks surprised. Then he looks amused. She sips her tea, shrugging. There is a flush pulling at the back of her neck. It seems as if it’s nothing new, when it comes to talking about Mamoru.
“Yes,” she says. She bites her lip, studying Kris. “Were you there the other day?” she asks. “At my meet?”
It would make sense to her, she thinks. You’re remarkable. Why would he come? Probably to help her brother; she can’t help but rationalize, not entirely sure what to make of the teacher and his attention.
“No,” he says, amused. “Minako told me that I should go though. And that I should do this the proper why - by asking you when your next one is instead of showing up.”
Her lips curl. “Mina-chan,” she murmurs.
“She hasn’t changed.”
Kris looks both irritated and amused. His hand presses against his face and he shakes his head.
Minako has always had some kind of influence on her brother. She is not entirely sure how it works; ever since they were kids, Minako was always able to get through to Kris, whatever reason, and even fluster him. Part of her isn’t surprised that he is here.
But then he brightens, reaching for her. His arm goes around her waist and he drags her into a hug, his mouth brushing into her hair.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs.
She leans against him. But Usagi isn’t thinking about believing him.
Minako notices first.
“He watches you a lot,” she says, half-amused, half-concerned, and they are walking away from the biology classroom. They are moving to lunch, to meet with friends; Mamoru is standing lazily against the wall, talking with another teacher.
She does not meet his gaze. She can feel him watching, flushing as she links her arm through Minako’s all the same.
“I don’t understand,” is all she says.
It is a strange week of circumstances, between running into Mamoru at school and now, now her brother’s active reintroduction into her life. She’s a little overwhelmed, but hides it well. She doesn’t want to lose herself to an overactive imagination.
Her practice wraps up early, one afternoon, and she finds herself again, face to face with Mamoru. He is standing next to the practice foils, his bag and books at his feet. He picks up a blade and she can’t help but stare, studying him.
“Practice is over, sensei,” she says, amused.
“I know.” He turns and extends his arm. The light hits the blade. “I was on the team when I was in school.”
“You were?”
His lips curl. He picks up another foil, tossing it to her. She grabs it at the hilt. Her fingers are shaky and she stares back at him, flushed.
“Sensei,” she says.
“Mamoru,” he corrects.
“Sensei,” she pushes back, and the amusement in her voice is steady. She positions herself in front of him. “We’re in school.”
“We’re alone,” he says.
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re pretty bold.” Her hand claps over her mouth. She’s red, she’s sure. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
He chuckles. “For what?”
But there’s no time to respond because he charges forward, a high extension to her chest. She turns to her left, blocking the hit. Her hair spills over her shoulder and into her eyes.
There is the slight curl of his mouth. He turns his wrist and swings again, forcing her to duck and spin on her foot. She blocks him again without thinking.
“You’re teasing me,” she says. “And holding back, sensei,” she says too.
Usagi pushes for the strike, swinging her arm out. He blocks the hit. There’s weight in it; she’s not sure if it’s her, if it’s her reaction to him, but her lips part and her ears are ringing with the sound of his blade dragging slowly over hers.
“Why are you teasing me?” she murmurs.
“I don’t know.”
Liar, she almost says. It’s hard to stay quiet though. Her hand claps over her mouth and she shifts back, watching him warily. She isn’t quite sure what to do with him, she thinks.
“Don’t hold back,” she says.
His mouth curls. Then it fades and he’s serious, so serious - more than she’s really ever seen him. He pushes his blade down and she relaxes her hand, watching as he reaches for her.
She feels his fingers touch her cheek, then slide along her jaw and into the end strands of her hair. He drags his fingers along her shoulder and she feels like she can’t really breathe. It hurts her throat, the sensation burning as she tries to swallow.
“Okay,” he says.
The next time he is there after a meet, standing behind her on the mat as she adjusts her arm. Her blade sits between her fingers. His hand curves around her shoulder.
“It was too tight.”
She frowns. “No,” she disagrees, dragging her arm out from underneath his hand. But his grip tightens. “I moved too slow.”
“She was lucky,” he argues, and when she turns, he’s smiling, shaking his head. His fingers graze the collar of her uniform. “You’re tired,” he says. “That’s why you lost the meet.”
Usagi flushes, but doesn’t answer. She isn’t really sure what to make of this, of him, of the idea of having this kind of rapport with a teacher. It goes beyond that too. He is her brother’s friend and although she’s never actually seen any interaction between them, and the way he talks about Kris is more than bare, the fact is that he still very much her brother’s friend and a teacher.
But somehow she cannot stop seeing him.
“You’re teasing me again,” she murmurs.
He chuckles.
His fingers curl in her hair and he drags the strands forward. They slip and spill through his fingers.
“Usagi.”
She licks her lips. “You didn’t have to stay after, you know.”
“I don’t have to do a lot of things.” His voice is low and thick. His fingers drop to her shoulder. He rubs his thumb against the arch and then pulls at the collar at her throat. “You know that too,” he says.
“No.”
Her gaze drops. “I don’t know what you want.” The foil drops from her hand. “I can’t read you.”
“Do you want to?”
“And there you go again,” she retorts.
He steps forward, leaning over her. He’s smiling, really smiling, and it’s a dangerous sort of feeling; it uncurls in her belly and without thinking, she lets her fingers graze his mouth.
He bites at the tips of her fingers. Her mouth opens and closes.
But neither of them says anything else at all.
It’s then that the space is too small, that she becomes more than aware at how easy it is for him to stay there steadily. He stares at her, waiting too. For what, she has no idea. She never knows what to say, to think of him or any sort of attention otherwise.
She does not know how to fit him like this. Her hand curls around his wrist, her fingers stretching over his skin. His lips curl again.
Usagi knows it’s simple: she is in over her head.
Kris invites her to dinner at his apartment. His friends are there and it seems all too much for some sort of grand plan and apology.
Mamoru is there too. He sits next to her, across from her brother, as there is so much food and faces that she doesn’t know. She wishes for Minako, maybe more of her other friends too, as if hoping for some kind of balance would help to calm her down.
“Usa-chan?”
She blinks, looking up. Her brother touches her arm.
“I’m fine,” she says quietly. She offers a smile.
“Are we that overwhelming?” Jason asks. She blushes.
“Leave her alone,” Mamoru says, reaching for her beer. “You’re an idiot.”
“It’s fine,” she says. Her lips curl, shaking her head. “I’m just tired,” she says too, and reaches over, touching her brother’s arm. Then she stands up, wanting to take a deep breath. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” she murmurs, ruffling Kris’ hair.
“Down the hall,” he says.
She leaves quietly, all smiles for her brother and his friends and even Mamoru to a certain extent. She likes them all - Zac, the doctor, and then there’s Jason, who she knows, and Nathan who apparently cooks everything when they get together. It’s nice to know that her brother has people. She still just doesn’t understand why suddenly now he’s here, wanting to start over again to get closer.
She finds his bedroom though and opens the door, sitting at the edge of the bed. She breathes in, rubbing her eyes.
“Stupid,” she murmurs.
She looks around then, half-expecting some sign that Kris is just Kris. Instead, she’s greeted by a cold room and overzealous art, everything placed in a particular way; something she feels like would disappoint Minako. Everything stands as something unfamiliar and it makes her uncertain in a way that she doesn’t understand.
There is a knock on the door. It opens then and she looks up.
“Are you all right?” Mamoru closes the door behind himself, leaning against it. His arms are cross. “Kris is worried.”
“Ah,” she says.
“So?”
He’s serious and she feels flustered, suddenly, rubbing at her cheeks. Her legs curl underneath her on the bed.
“You overwhelm me,” she says, and he scoffs. She looks away. “Not just you, all of this - I barely know any of you even though Kris is my brother and you … you’re you. I don’t know what you want.”
“I’m me?” he repeats.
Her palms feel cool against her cheeks as she rubs them again. Her hair brushes over her eyes. Then she stands, quickly and sharply. The room is just dark enough; the skyline is painted back against the walls, easy enough so that she can find the bathroom door.
When she opens it, the light spills forward and the bathroom is even more elaborate than the bedroom. There are too many grays and blues, she decides. There’s no warmth.
She leans against the frame. “I think you overwhelm me the most though,” she says quietly.
“Why?”
“Why,” she counters, “are you always around me?”
“I’m a teacher,” he teases, and he moves to her. She can’t see him, but his hand drops against her hip and he presses against her back. She finds herself leaning against him.
“I don’t understand what you see,” she says.
“Mmm.” His mouth brushes against her jaw. Her eyes widen. Her hand curls around the frame. “I know,” he murmurs. “I’ve started to see.”
“See?”
His fingers slide against her shoulder, then his knuckles graze against her throat. It takes all of her, maybe too much of her, to really understand why she’s trusting him this way. She has always been too serious about her own feelings, maybe too protective even.
“What happened to you?” he says against her ear. She feels him wet his lips, swallowing. “What happened to you that you’re so shy - that you’re hiding yourself?”
“I’m not hiding myself.”
She pulls away, stepping into the bathroom. He grabs her by the arm and she whirls around, her eyes wide.
“Sensei.”
His voice is soft. “You’re lying to me.”
She doesn’t move. It’s a strange split of time that makes her stop and stare at him. Her fingers curl back over his arm then, her nails digging into his skin. She leans forward, closer and closer, and then pushes herself onto her toes.
Her mouth catches his first. She lets it open, a soft pant of a sigh swallowed as he wraps an arm around her waist. She lays a hand against his face though, opening it slightly over his cheek as she bites at his lip. He makes a sound, low, hard, and they stumble back against the sink.
The kiss is slow, maybe too slow, and he is all teeth, almost desperately unaware of how it pushes back at her. She feels herself sink into him, her tongue rolls back over his and he hisses too.
Then his fingers are in her hair. He draws back, eyes dark.
“You kissed me.”
“You’re good at this accusation thing,” she murmurs.
He chuckles. His thumb slides over her lip. His forehead drops against hers, his hand cupping the back of her neck.
“You make me a little crazy,” he says, and finally, finally she has to laugh.
This is trouble.
“You’re seriously going to make sure she gets home okay?” Jason teases, and Usagi is flustered. There is a strange, bitter taste on her mouth.
But Mamoru touches her arm. “Don’t be an ass,” he mutters.
Usagi manages a smile all the same. She kisses her brother’s cheek and then waves to the others as she follows Mamoru out.
Her heart is pounding.
They’re quiet. She tries to think of what to say. It was supposed to get better, she thinks, after - she doesn’t really understand what she feels right now. Her fingers brush against her lips. She smiles and she sighs. Should she even bother, she wonders.
Once they are outside, Mamoru takes her by the arm. She flushes again, but he merely tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
She says nothing. She shrugs though and he pulls her to his car. She turns back around, checking if her brother’s building is out of sight, out of mind, and if anything. They reach his car too and she turns, leaning back against the door.
“Are we -” she stops and laughs, shaking her head. “What’s going to happen?” she asks again.
He softens. “What do you want to happen?”
“Take some responsibility,” she retorts. Her hand covers her mouth. “Sorry,” she shakes her head again, rubbing her eyes. “Are we dating? What does this mean? I don’t want you to think that I just go -”
His mouth brushes over hers. Her eyes widen.
“I don’t,” he says. “I don’t think you just kiss anyone.”
He frames her into the car. The wind picks up and cools against her cheek, biting at her skin. She feels his hands cup her neck, dragging at her jaw. His forehead drops against hers.
“I’ll take you on a date,” he murmurs.
She laughs. “You will, huh?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Just like that?” she asks.
“Mmm.” His thumb slides over her lip. His mouth catches over hers then too. She feels his laugh. “Just like that.”
And this is really how she kisses him again, flushed, shy, and completely aware of how stupid this is, how irresponsible all of this. She thinks briefly of her family, then of her friends - Minako is either going to laugh at her or kill her or possibly both.
But it’s his mouth, soft and certain, the lazy way he bites at her lip and how of their own accord, her fingers seem too able to curl against the back of his neck to bring him closer.
Neither of them say that this is a bad idea.
“You did what.”
Usagi’s hand claps over Minako’s mouth. Her best friend’s eyes are wide. They wait until a few girls leave; it’s too early for the next class, but the girls’ room is like a revolving door of people who are avoiding their morning classes.
She usually has an early club meeting, then student council, but somehow, finding her best friend seems to be more important than anything else. But Minako seems to be staring at her - amusement, maybe, something more, she isn’t sure.
“Stop,” Usagi murmurs.
Her hair falls into her eyes and she clasps a hand over her mouth, looking off to the side.
Her sigh echoes in the bathroom.
“I know. He’s a teacher.”
Minako laughs. “No,” she says. “That I don’t care about - he’s your brother’s hot friend. I mean … when?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Minako pouts. “Fine.” She pushes at her arm. “Don’t tell me.” Then she grins widely. “But you and -” her eyes dance as she looks around. “Chiba-sensei, seriously?”
“I thought you hated him,” she says dryly.
“Eh.” Minako turns and stands next to Usagi. They both lean against the sink, Usagi crossing her arms. “I don’t care for him,” she says lazily. “But if he’s important to you, Usa-chan, I don’t care.”
She pokes her hip.
“I’m the best at keeping secrets.”
Usagi laughs delightedly. “You are not,” she teases, dropping her head against her shoulder. “But I - ” she grows serious, her lips pursing. “I have no idea what it is.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Minako murmurs.
“I guess.”
She doesn’t mention the ride home, or how her hand trembled when she gave him a chase kiss goodbye. It still burned though and she was still all too aware that he watching her closely, too closely if even that.
She does not know where this is going to go.
The classroom is empty. She drops her bag on the floor and closes the door, watching as he looks up from his desk.
“Usagi.”
Her lips curl. “Chiba-sensei.”
There are papers all over his desk. It seems impulsively neat to her. She moves past the door and a few of the counter desk, peering at his work. She looks at him then too, watching the way his glasses seem to slide down his nose as he leans across his desk.
"I took supplementary classes," she says, her fingers touch some of the papers. She sees a few names she recognizes.
The door remains closed. The hallway is quiet, as most of the clubs have gone into longer practices or have gone home for the day. He is watching her too. She can't quite read his gaze though; instead, her fingers graze the top of the desk.
"Because I was terrible at biology."
He laughs. "It isn't for everybody," he says. She moves closer. “Not to worry.”
"I'm squeamish."
Her lips curl and she sits at the edge of his desk, leaning against it too. Her knees brush lightly against his legs. Her hands curl around the edge too.
"That's okay too," he murmurs, and she laughs softly, shaking her head. She finds herself leaning over him too, studying him openly. It's more than just a meet now: it's two, three, four more times now. She knows when he's there too.
And it's more than that. She likes it. She likes that he's there, watching her. It unravels deep in her too, the idea that he's coming to see her.
Then he touches her knee. His fingers graze over the hem of her skirt.
"Sensei?" His eyes narrow. Her lips curl. “Mamoru,” she corrects.
The fabric pushes over her knee. "It's bad, you know," he says. "That I think you're different. This isn't what I wanted, you know?"
"I know," she says quietly.
"I told you to call me Mamoru too."
She laughs, looking down. "When we're alone," she says. "You keep reminding me, it seems."
Then both his hands are on her legs, sliding over her knees and then under her skirt. He stands too and she watches as his palms flesh over her thighs. His skin is warm and hot and she reaches out, letting her fingers graze his arms.
"Mamoru," she says. She tugs at the sleeves of his shirt. They fall over the cuff at his elbow too. "Mamoru," she says again. "Is that better?"
"Look at me."
Her cheeks grow hot then. It's that same feeling from before, how it uncurls in her belly and deeper - much deeper inside of her. She lets her hands open over his arms and then slowly, very slowly, she looks up to meet his gaze.
His forehead rests against hers. The desk presses against the back of her thighs.
"You're more than just different."
She laughs huskily. The sound catches at her throat. "I would hope so," she murmurs, but he's serious, and then there's a hand in her hair. "Mamoru?"
His fingers curl in her hair.
"I want to kiss you," he says.
“At school?”
“Your brother’s going to kill me,” he murmurs, and his mouth slants overs. He kisses hard. His mouth is too sharp and her hands fly up to curl in his jacket.
“Stop talking about my brother.”
“He is though,” Mamoru tells her, his fingers curling in the collar of her blouse. “I would kill me too.”
She rolls her eyes, biting at his lip. He pushes her back against the desk, further over the papers. They rustle against her back and legs and then his hands are curled in hers, their fingers lacing.
“Idiot,” she murmurs, then flushes because her skirt starts to slide further up her legs. He says nothing. She pushes at his jacket and it’s stupid, it’s so stupid because the door is still open and the lights being dark could mean nothing at all.
She doesn’t think.
His fingers are inside of her.
She threads her own through his hair, panting as she arches back into the desk. Her eyes squeeze shut.
“Mamoru,” she breathes.
“It’s a good thing you’re not in my class,” he murmurs, and she chokes out a laugh, arching into his hand. She is watching him through half-lidded as his mouth slides over her thigh.
His mouth is hot and wet and she mews, her fist tightening through his hair. Her awareness is making her unravel. It’s about how hot his mouth is, how wet - when it slides over her, her clit, she lets out another soft cry, releasing her fist from his hair.
She bites at her knuckles.
“Talk to me,” he says, and then he’s shifting, his fingers sliding out of her. They drag against her thigh. His mouth presses over her belly. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmurs.
“This is crazy,” she gasps.
It isn’t until his mouth is over hers again, until he’s sliding inside her, until she feels hot and tight and completely stretched, that she knows that she’s come to accept this, whatever this is, without any qualms.
Maybe that’s the strangest part of this all.
“There’s something different about you,” Kris says over coffee, and next to her, Minako spits out her drink. It flies everywhere.
Usagi sighs and hands her a napkin. She ignores her brother for the moment, her cheeks warm.
She tries not to think about it, Mamoru; there is a range of emotions she doesn’t really know how she subscribes to. Minako kicks her under the table though.
Shape up, she mouths and Usagi sighs again, locking back at her brother. It’s been small dinners here and there. Sometimes she sees Mamoru. Something she doesn’t. Most of the time they act as they’ve always acted; somewhere between a secret and something else.
Usagi just smiles at her brother though.
“It’s nothing,” she says.
Later she thinks about what he says.
The homework on her bed remains untouched and it’s really odd, if she pieces it together, between the slow, secret meetings and nothing really tangible enough to say this is something.
Is she really that different? Is something changing?
For the first time, she worries about what Mamoru feels.
There is a visitor outside the school.
She barely pays attention. She has a meet this afternoon and she slides the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
But the crowds of students are murmuring excitedly. She sees a glance of her brother, then Mamoru, and a few of their friends, including another woman standing by the car.
Minako catches her arm. “I didn’t know he was coming?”
“Neither did I,” she murmurs, and her gaze follows the woman, just as she laces her arm through Mamoru’s. She stops and studies him. There’s a lazy smile, soft even.
“Who’s that?”
Usagi shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?” Minako asks gently, but Usagi doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say anything. She has to focus.
But her brother spots her, then all of his friends, and she is swept into a round of hugs and greetings.
“This is Rei,” Kris introduces the woman on Mamoru’s arm first. Then there’s another one, on his side. Minako’s eyes are narrow. “This Makoto. Friends from school,” he offers.
“Ah.” Usagi returns. She allows a half-smile to grace her mouth. “Hello,” she greets, and then steps back, adjusting her bag.
“We’ve come to see your meet,” her brother says.
“You’re making a scene,” Minako mutters, and her eyes narrow. She stands taller, glaring at Kris.
A small argument erupts. But Usagi pays no attention. Her head is a mess; she forces herself to smile, absently glancing everywhere else. Students are watching. A couple of the boys wave to her. There are a lot of offerings of good luck! and one of the girls from her team comes up to the group.
She is aware of her uniform then, how tight it is, and the way the fabric peels at her skin. Her hand catches at Minako’s elbow and her breathing starts to shake.
“Mina-chan,” she says.
“Ah,” her friend says. She grips her arm, looking at the group. “We should go. You should go -”
“Usa?”
She smiles weakly at her brother. “Fine,” she murmurs. “I should just have a snack -”
But her ears are ringing and she feels too many people watching her. She has a lot of memories, small and large, of waiting for her parents, of her brother - just wanting someone to take her hand and be a sense of stability. There is no particular moment that she can pick out where it was the sole reason for her shakiness. It doesn’t matter, she thinks.
She forces herself to take a deep breath. Minako says something about nerves and Usagi steps back from the group.
“See you later,” she says, smiling.
She cannot look at Mamoru.
All four matches go to her. The last Usagi swings quickly, dipping into a spin and pressing the point of her blade into the padding of her opponent, sweat licking away at her throat.
There is the buzzer. She sighs after.
“You were so great!” cheers Naru, their manager. She claps her hands together and hands her a towel.
She likes the pulse of her blade - the foils for practice, the others for matches - and the steadiness it offers. She’s allowed to have a sense of speed and confidence that is hers and hers alone.
The crowd is big enough, however, and she brings the towel to her face, hiding her flush as her brother comes down to greet her. He’s followed by Mamoru and Jason, the others staying behind in their seats as the other matches wrap up for the afternoon.
“You were incredible,” her brother grins.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, flushing.
“I told you,” Mamoru says, eyes dark. Usagi doesn’t look at him though. All she sees is the woman’s hand on his arm, her arm through his, and she feels too much like a child.
She manages a shy smile though, turning to watch the rest of the matches. Her fingers tremble a little as the reach up and pull at her hair. She tugs at the band that holds it back.
It falls loose and warm against her shoulders. There is a hand on her arm.
“Dinner’s at my place tonight,” Kris tells her. “You and Mina can come - Makoto is a genius cook.”
Her lips twitch. “All right.”
He leaves her, but Mamoru doesn’t. He’s watching her and she rubs away a flush that grows at her cheeks.
“Stop.”
He chuckles. “You’re angry with me,” he says.
“I am not,” she says to him, and she turns. She jumps when he touches her wrist. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she says then.
It’s for the best, she thinks.
All of this was a long time ago, back after her brother left, and she was starting to learn what the weight of a confession really means.
It’s just that boys are boys and girls are girls, and she never though she’d be one of those girls, not yet attached but somehow ready for a confession herself. What would he say - she’s sure that Mamoru’s heard all sorts of things and somehow, maybe, it would just be easier to go back to those small smiles and the lazy banter.
The truth is now she knows how he touches her. She knows how he kisses her and it’s all too physical.
This isn’t what she needs.
It’s a party. It’s a party.
Usagi tries her best, of course. She ends up talking happily with Makoto in the kitchen as she cooks. She likes the older woman, who happens to be engaged to Nathan. She tells Minako to go and enjoy herself too - her best friend is better at these things, charming her way through crowds and strangers and everything else that Usagi has no apparent interest in.
Occasionally, though, she’ll find herself looking for Mamoru.
He’s in the company of Rei and a few other women, talking with that lazy, unabashed smirk of his. She finds out from her brother that he and Rei have had some sort of thing. It bothers her more than it should. But it’s also one of those few times that she gets to watch him without feeling out of place. No one notices. No one needs to.
But it really bothers her. The thing.
He excuses himself later. She isn’t sure as to why.
Minako kicks her under the table though. “Go,” she hisses through a smile. “You’ve been staring at each other all night. I’ll cover for you, okay?”
Usagi blinks. Minako salutes her and then nods off to her brother, who, by all means, looks occupied by his friends. She excuses herself, smoothing her hands against her dress and following the hallway to the bedrooms in the back.
He’s not in Kris’ room, but there is another room. The light is faint and she finds him standing against another door. It leads out into another balcony and he leans against it.
"She's beautiful, Rei-san."
Her head rests against the frame of the door. She feels awkward and confused. The dress feels a little too demure for this place.
"Kris says that she's liked you for a while," she murmurs. "Chiba-sensei," she adds.
His eyes are dark. He walks to her, his hand pressing against the frame. She ducks and turns away from him, her hands brushing over her face. She feels tired. There's an ache in her throat that shouldn't be there. She shouldn't be here, she tells herself.
"I know," he says quietly.
"So then - "
"Look at me," he cuts her off. His fingers catch her shoulders. She blinks and sighs, trying to shrug him away. His fingers slide under the strap of her dress. "Usa-chan."
She doesn't push him away again. Her shoulders slump though. The murmurs of the party are faint somewhere behind them.
"I don't do well in crowds."
“I know,” he says.
Her lips curl. It's not a particular smile. It feels slight and weak.
"Don't you want to know why?"
Her eyes close. She feels it rolling around in her belly, crawling up against her throat.
"You make me feel like an idiot." She reaches out, her fist hitting his chest. “I - you make me feel like an idiot and I hate it. It was never this bad, Mamoru.”
“Just ask me,” he says.
“Ask you what,” she blurts. Her eyes are wide and she hits his chest again. “How you feel? Are you really going to tell me that sensei? Are you?”
His hand curls around her fist. He pulls at each of her fingers, unwrapping them and then bringing her hand to his mouth. He kisses her palm and she flushes, biting her lip.
We’re friends, he doesn’t say. I know, she doesn’t say. Instead, he leans over her, still holding her hand. His mouth slides over hers and he’s kissing her all the same.
He takes his time, biting at her lip. His tongue flicks over hers and she pushes back, deepening the kiss. Her other hand manages to curl at the nape of his neck too, dragging him forward.
Then he’s pushing her into the frame of the open door, pushing up her dress and then lifting her against the wood. She makes a small gasp into his mouth and then it’s the sound of his belt, her own hands pulling at his shirt as he slides inside of her.
He’s hot and she feels heavy and tight, her legs squeezing at his waist. He thrusts forward, pulling his head back.
“I only have eyes for you,” he bites out.
She licks at his jaw. The murmurs of the party get loud. Someone is laughing; her hips push back at Mamoru’s.
“Usa -”
“Okay,” she breathes, and she takes that confession.
The wall against her back is heavy. Then they’re slumped into the floor, her knees into the carpet as he decides he wants to see her come again and she decides to let him.
He nails scrape against his chest. Her eyes are wide and open and he sinks another finger inside of her. Her hips are rocking, his thumb flicking at her clit.
“I like - when - you watch me,” she tells him, and instead of letting himself, she steals it from him. Her teeth sink into his lip and he’s laughing into her mouth, along with the music and the crowd.
It’s sensation and sound, but she’s buried deep into her own awareness of Mamoru as he pushes her further and further; she doesn’t cry out when she comes that second time, instead she falls forward into his chest and closes her eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells her. His mouth is at her ear.
Then he tells her again.
Kris’ fist comes after everyone leaves.
There is Minako and Mamoru, Jason standing between them as her brother’s eyes narrow.
“I’m not an idiot,” he spits, and Usagi is calm enough to kneel at Mamoru’s side without even thinking. “That’s my sister.”
He winces under her fingertips as they press against the skin. There is a bite at her throat and she lets out a soft giggle.
Mamoru looks up at her surprise.
But she can’t stop giggling - it starts small and soft, then gets louder and fuller. She shifts and moves into Mamoru’s lap, looking up at Minako. The two girls share a look and her best friend disappears into the kitchen, mostly to get her ice.
Her lips press against Mamoru’s forehead and she looks at her brother, held back by Jason.
“Don’t worry, onii-san,” she says, and her voice is warm. “I’ll make an honest man out of him, I promise.”
Mamoru meets her gaze.
Usagi smiles.
For tosca1390. Who basically lets me torture with ideas and things. No really. She does.
oh the strangeness of your charm
it’s a smaller universe than you think. usagi, mamoru, and the merits of a clumsy romance. sailor moon | usagi/mamoru | AU | 9,201 words, R.
-
The girls outside the classroom are huddled in a half-circle. There are a lot of whispers, and the sound of paper tear is too loud and too noticeable against the door, even as people gather at the fringes.
Usagi finds Minako on one of the window ledges. Her best friend waves and she drops her bag with hers on the floor, sliding herself up to sit next to the other girl. She has a straw in her mouth and then offers Minako her soda, watching in amusement, as the group of girls gets larger.
“How long this time?”
Minako snorts. “Twenty minutes early according to Honda-san?” The soda snaps open and she steals a sip before handing it back to Usagi. “Someone’s already fainted too - the boys have a bet that it’s going to end up being a love confession war between Yuki-san and Naru.”
She slides a straw into the soda. “Confession war?”
The door opens though. Usagi’s voice is drowned out by the girls’ cries of sensei and have this from me! as the rest of the school seems to gather around and watch the insanity unfold.
“Is that him?” she asks, then, and the teacher slips out of the door, the rest of his class following behind him. He greets all the girls with a smile, patting their heads and creating enough space for the others to slip through.
“That’s Chiba-sensei,” Minako tells her. “Handsome, right?”
And he is, she thinks. His eyes are dark. His mouth slides into more lazy amusement as he steps around two more crying girls. She watches him tuck his books under his arms. Then he looks up.
He meets her gaze. Usagi smiles.
She thinks nothing of it, of course.
Minako has her by the hand, dragging her down the street and into her city. She is supposed to meet her brother for dinner at his apartment, although she isn’t entirely sure how her best friend roped herself into this.
“Mina-chan,” she breathes. “Mina-chan. Kris isn’t going anywhere. I know you want to give him a piece of your mind, but it would be silly for him to move in just to move out, don’t you think?”
Her friend stops, flustered. Usagi’s amusement is clear.
“Sorry,” Minako mutters, cheeks growing brighter in color as she rubs the back of her head too.
In front of them, the apartment complex finally comes into view. She cannot remember if her brother said the third floor or the fifth, and she pulls her hand out of Minako’s, grabbing the piece of paper with directions.
She hasn’t seen Kris since she was twelve, right as he moved out and went abroad to study. She adored him too. No one was surprised that he didn’t come back. She was sad, she remembers, maybe more sad than she’ll ever admit to. But like everyone else, she understood.
“I don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”
Minako blinks. “Hello?”
She flushes. “You know what I mean.” Usagi sighs. “I’m not a little kid anymore. He’s been - he really stopped being my onii-chan when I was twelve, if anything.”
Her friend laughs softly. She reaches forward, her fingers brushing though Usagi’s hair. She rests her forehead against hers.
“Silly Usa-chan,” she murmurs. “He’s the idiot.”
“And you want to tell him to his face, right?”
Minako smirks. “Well, there’s that.” But then she grows serious, her fingers threading through more strands. “You’re going to be fine, okay? And it was nice of him to invite me along - ”
“ - too,” Minako finishes at the door. Her eyes are wide.
Usagi stands next to her, her fingers curled in her jacket. It’s the right apartment, she thinks. She looks down at the paper in Minako’s hand and then back up again at the view.
The music is loud. There is more than a crowd of people gathered. She sees wine and then a skyline of the city, the lights fleshing against the windows. The women are beautiful too, gorgeous dresses, flushed with laughter, and all she can do is pull at her jacket tightly again.
“Dinner,” she says quietly. “That’s what he said.”
“What an asshole,” Minako hisses. “What the hell? What is going on?”
But Usagi doesn’t answer. She doesn’t do well with crowds, with this kind of crowd. She feels warm and uncomfortable, inching closer to her friend as she takes a step back. Her brother won’t miss her, she thinks. They’ll call from outside and she’ll drag Minako off to dinner somewhere else.
“Aino-san?”
Minako stiffens, Usagi looks up, and it’s the teacher from earlier, she realizes. Her friend links her arm through hers though.
“Chiba-sensei,” she greets. Usagi looks at her, then back at him. Minako’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t know you were friends with Usagi’s brother.”
“Brother?” he asks.
Usagi clears her throat. “Kris,” she murmurs.
She takes him in too. He’s wearing a suit, or almost a suit, his tie open and skewed around his neck. His hands shove into his books and he meets her gaze without any hesitation. She tries not to blush.
“We were supposed to have dinner tonight,” she adds.
He seems to soften. Then he sighs. Minako’s fingers dig into her elbow.
“Ah,” he says. “You’re Usa-chan. The way he talks about you it made it seem like you were twelve. And you’re in none of my classes - I thought you were in the elementary school.”
“I’m a senior,” she says dryly.
He laughs, shaking his head. “I see that now.”
“What’s going on?” Minako asks.
He shrugs. He says something about a party, but Usagi’s attention is quickly drawn back into the fray of the crowd. Her hand brushes against her throat and the dizziness comes back again.
There are too many people here, she thinks. She sees a woman and a man press into a corner, the man leaning over her. There’s a flush and she really shouldn’t be thinking much of what’s happening. Her head feels heavy though and Minako’s hand curls back around her arm.
“Usa-chan,” she murmurs.
She blinks. “I’m fine.” She bows her head, smiling softly. “It was nice to see you, Chiba-sensei. If you could tell my brother -”
“Ugh,” Minako says. “I’ll be fast - I’m going to see if I can find him.”
“Mina -”
Her friend smiles at the man in front of her. “Chiba-sensei,” she says seriously. “If you could take Usa-chan outside for some air - she doesn’t do well in crowds and if I’m going to yell at her brother, I might as well just make an ass of myself alone.”
Usagi flushes. Minako grins, guiding his hand to her arm. He grips it gently and then Minako bounds off.
“Are you all right?”
She can’t look up. “Yes,” she murmurs, and he leads her deeper inside, away from the group in the apartment.
There is a small exit through the kitchen. Then she finds herself being pulled out into a balcony. The air is cool and she finally picks at her jacket, running her fingers against her throat.
She can’t really bring herself to come to terms with the fact that she’s standing in her brother’s place and he isn’t anywhere to be found.
Then she laughs. “Oh god,” she breathes, pressing a hand to her face. “Of course,” she murmurs. “Of course.”
“Tsukino-san?”
“Usagi,” she says, looking up. His hand is on her arm. “It’s Usagi,” she says again.
“Mamoru, then.” His voice is warm. “You’re not in any of my classes,” he tells her. “So it’s a little less weird.”
She snorts. “Thank you?”
He laughs, leaning against the railing. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
It’s so strange, suddenly talking to a teacher like this. The whole day has been rather weird as it is, she thinks. She feels uncomfortable and exposed; outside, there’s just a little more room to breathe.
She tries to picture her brother. Her mother said that he looks good. Her father said that Kris is still Kris and that the photos that she tries to go back over in her head are not misplaced. She just wants to see him in person and suddenly, with everything, that seems to be so much to ask.
“How do you know my brother, Mamoru-kun?”
She meets his gaze. He seems surprised.
“We went to school together,” he says.
“I see.”
His lips curl. “I see why he always let us assume that his sister was a little girl too,” he murmurs. She’s startled, flushing. “I’d do the same thing.”
Her hand brushes against her cheek. Then she shakes her head.
“Eh,” she says, embarrassed. “We were supposed to have dinner tonight,” she tells him. “It was just going to be the two of us -”
He laughs. The sound is low and he touches her arm. “It wasn’t his fault,” he says. “Things - this wasn’t his fault,” he repeats.
He’s serious then, earnest even, and she doesn’t know what to make of that. He feels closer too, leaning over her. His fingers brush against her face, just over her bangs. It’s just that slight, but she feels it, biting the inside of her cheek to force herself to take a deep breath.
She swallows. “All right, Chiba-sensei.”
“Mamoru,” he corrects.
Usagi smiles. They are quiet for a little while.
Mamoru disappears to grab her water. She stays resting against the railing. When she turns, she’s greeted by the city and not the party; just listening to the sounds of conversation and music makes it a little easier.
He’s different, she thinks. Or allows herself to think. Her mouth turns and she rests her chin against her hand.
“You’re not twelve.”
She blinks. “I’m sorry?” and when she turns, there is a man leaning against the frame of the door, cigarettes in hand.
He’s handsome, bright-eyed. His jacket is sort of tucked haphazardly over his shirt. He grins at her, leaning forward.
“You’re not twelve.”
“Do I know you?”
He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “No,” he tells her. “But I know you.”
“Stop being an idiot.”
Mamoru appears from around him, pushing him to the side and coming back to join her in the balcony. He hands her a glass of water.
“She’s really not twelve though,” the man says.
"No kidding," he mutters. He stays close to her. “This is Jason,” he introduces her. “He’s another friend of your brother’s.”
Minako is still gone and Usagi is growing more uncomfortable again, gripping her glass tightly. It’s just that there is no sense of familiarity around her. She doesn’t know how to fit herself in just yet, or if that even matters if anything at all. Jason takes the other side of her, sliding a cigarette into his mouth.
"You're eighteen, right?" he asks, and Mamoru reaches over her from the other side, hitting the back of his head. "Shit," Jason mutters. "Untoward, dude."
Her lips press against her glass. "I'm handy with sharp objects too," she says.
"That's uncomfortable."
Usagi smiles at Jason. "Fencing captain," she says, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Mina-chan also insists I take judo and self-defense lessons with her too. So there's that. I’m just not good with crowds," she finishes quietly.
"Mina-chan?"
"That would be me." They all look at her friend, standing in the doorframe. Her smile is sharp. "And, dude, I eat guys like you for breakfast."
"It's true," both Usagi and Mamoru say. They look at each other; Usagi is blushing, Mamoru runs the back of his head. "The boys in my third period are in love and afraid of her," he says.
"It's a tough gig," Minako quips.
She then turns to Usagi, nodding back inside. People are still here and she doesn't see her brother anywhere. They share a look and she sighs softly, handing Mamoru her water back.
Everything wraps up that fast. She should be glad to get out of here. She doesn’t even know what else to think about her brother and his friends. Maybe he forgot, she thinks too. But there's something even more disheartening that lingers. She pushes it down and then leans up, brushing her lips against Mamoru's cheek.
"Thank you for keeping me company, Chiba-sensei," she says, pulling back to leave. There is no time for a proper goodbye. She moves to Minako then and lets her friend take her hand.
She doesn't look back. Her face is warm.
This is how it starts.
The messages on her phone from Kris are ignored. She isn’t quite sure what to say to him yet, even with Mamoru’s words ringing back over in her head: not his fault. She's busy enough as it is, between classes and meets, student council and her friends. But like clockwork, Minako always asks her to meet her outside of the biology classroom with the others.
The girls line up at the door, clutching their bags and gifts, giggling as they talk about chiba-sensei and his mysterious smile. Usagi watches too, a little sad, a little curious; the whole thing is strange too.
"Good luck on your meet today!" one of the boys tells her, passing. She smiles in kind, already braiding her hair back for later.
Minako has her court of admirers too, all chatting to her smiles. She's barely paying any attention anyway and hands Usagi a piece of her chocolate.
The door to the classroom opens and everyone goes quiet.
Then it's pandemonium.
"Chiba-sensei!" and "Oh, Chiba-sensei, take my gift!" fill the hallway. Her eyes are wide as the teacher in question stumbles out into the hall and his class can barely follow. A girl stumbles and falls, her papers going everywhere. People start stepping on them too, grabbing at his arms.
"This is ridiculous," she murmurs.
Usagi pushes herself off the ledge, smoothing her skirt.
"Usa-chan?" Minako asks.
She ignores her friend, heading to the girl as she struggles to pick up her things. Her gaze meets Mamoru's then too and she sighs.
"Stop."
Everyone freezes - the girls, boys, Mamoru. They stare at her, but she kneels and helps the girl instead.
"I'm sure," she says calmly, "that if you paid a little more attention to others, Chiba-sensei would appreciate at it - right?"
The papers are heavy against her chest, but she helps the girl up and to her feet. She's blushing and Usagi offers a warm smile to her, patting her head and then meeting Mamoru's gaze.
"Right." His eyes darken. "Yes," he licks his lips. "That's right."
“Thank you, Usagi-san!”
She smiles at the girl again. The others, they watch her, even more wide-eyed than before. A few boys whistle and Minako is grinning at her, an odd sort of grin, as she turns around and heads back to her bag.
She does not meet Mamoru’s gaze again.
The towel is soft in her hands. The last of her teammates leave the gym and she moves to sit with her bag.
“Usagi.”
She looks up as she slides down to the ground. Mamoru is walking to her, fitting into a jacket. It’s leather and for whatever reason, that amuses her - the picture in her head is a mix of motorcycles, cigarettes, and wrinkled suits. For whatever reason, it seems to fit him.
Still she clears her throat. “Chiba-sensei.”
He smiles, moving to lean against the wall where she sits. His hands slide into his pockets.
“Even now,” he murmurs. “You’re still so polite.”
“We are at school.”
He laughs. “Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I saw some of your meet today too,” he tells her.
She’s surprised. She turns her head to hide her blush, reaching for her water bottle. She presses it to her lips and manages to mumble a thank you all the same.
“You’re good,” he says to her.
“I could be better,” she replies. Her thumb brushes over the lip of her bottle. “It helps me focus,” she says. “I was a terrible student before I came to high school and then fencing happened and -”
Mamoru chuckles. “It’s a compliment, Usagi.”
“I’m not good at those either,” she mumbles.
He laughs again, and then slides down to sit next to her, stretching his legs out. He sighs and shakes his head.
“You were remarkable.”
“Sensei?”
He meets her gaze. “Mamoru is fine,” he murmurs. “No one else is here.” He touches her arm too. “But really - like this morning too - watching you during meet was something else.”
She doesn’t really know how to take that either. There is a burn in her throat and it trickles down. She swallows hard, pressing her hands to her face as she drags her legs against her chest.
“Mamoru-san,” she says. “I - ”
His lips curl and he meets her gaze.
“Compliments for you,” he says. “Attention for me. I’m not good with any sort of attention at all.”
She laughs this time, the sound full and warm. She tilts her head back and her hair falls into her eyes.
“Now that’s a lie, Mamoru-san,” she says, amused. “I don’t believe that one at all. Sensei seems very cool.”
He snorts. “You should ask your brother. That’s so not true.”
She makes a soft sound, shaking her head. She should change, she thinks. There is homework to do. She could call her brother. She feels irreversibly shy as it is.
“Maybe,” she says anyway.
“You’re different,” he blurts then.
Her eyes widen. His mouth twists. He draws his leg up too, resting his arm against his knee. She watches as he looks down.
“I’m nothing special, sensei,” she says quietly, gently even. She reaches over, touching his arm without thinking.
But he doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t press, letting her fingers linger. She sighs then too. She pushes herself up to stand, her hair falling into her eyes. Her blush is faint but she feels it more than usual. She doesn’t know why.
He lets her go.
“Minako says I am a terrible older brother.”
Usagi freezes in the kitchen. Her hands hover over her tea.
“Onii-san?” she asks, almost breathless. She has her homework upstairs and her parents are gone for the evening, something about an event or two - she wasn’t paying any attention.
But when she turns, Kris is there, he’s right there.
Kris is handsome, has always been incredibly handsome and intimidating to stand next to. They are strange copies of each other: long hair, bright eyes, him with his smile. In the kitchen, he looks like he doesn’t belong here. He wears a suit, the trench coat open at his sides. His hands hold a pair of gloves and he leans against the side of the door.
“Key’s in the same place,” he says lazily.
“Mom,” she murmurs.
“I figured.” He smiles, moving to the counter. He drops his gloves and leans over it, brushing her hair from her eyes. “How are you, Usa-chan?”
She blinks.
“How long are you back?” she counters.
It finally registers too: minako says. She wonders if her friend did find him during the party. But then again, Minako has always had an odd sort of relationship with her brother.
She gently bats his hand away though. She turns with a flush too, reaching for her tea. Her thumbs hook over the rim of the cup.
“I don’t know,” he tells her.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
He chuckles. “Yes.” Then, he moves to her side of the counter. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she echoes, shrugging. “I haven’t seen you in years. I get a card here and there - I’m not mad, onii-san. I understand that you have your life, but …”
“Dinner was my fault,” he murmurs. He shakes his head. “Well, more like Jason’s, but - I should have said something.”
She remembers his apartment. She remembers standing with Mamoru outside. The conversation is faint in her head - it doesn’t matter really. He was there and that, somehow, has turned into meaning something. Probably more than it should.
She makes a soft sound, shaking her head.
“I understand.”
He sighs. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“Chiba-sensei kept me company,” she says.
“Mamoru?”
He looks surprised. Then he looks amused. She sips her tea, shrugging. There is a flush pulling at the back of her neck. It seems as if it’s nothing new, when it comes to talking about Mamoru.
“Yes,” she says. She bites her lip, studying Kris. “Were you there the other day?” she asks. “At my meet?”
It would make sense to her, she thinks. You’re remarkable. Why would he come? Probably to help her brother; she can’t help but rationalize, not entirely sure what to make of the teacher and his attention.
“No,” he says, amused. “Minako told me that I should go though. And that I should do this the proper why - by asking you when your next one is instead of showing up.”
Her lips curl. “Mina-chan,” she murmurs.
“She hasn’t changed.”
Kris looks both irritated and amused. His hand presses against his face and he shakes his head.
Minako has always had some kind of influence on her brother. She is not entirely sure how it works; ever since they were kids, Minako was always able to get through to Kris, whatever reason, and even fluster him. Part of her isn’t surprised that he is here.
But then he brightens, reaching for her. His arm goes around her waist and he drags her into a hug, his mouth brushing into her hair.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs.
She leans against him. But Usagi isn’t thinking about believing him.
Minako notices first.
“He watches you a lot,” she says, half-amused, half-concerned, and they are walking away from the biology classroom. They are moving to lunch, to meet with friends; Mamoru is standing lazily against the wall, talking with another teacher.
She does not meet his gaze. She can feel him watching, flushing as she links her arm through Minako’s all the same.
“I don’t understand,” is all she says.
It is a strange week of circumstances, between running into Mamoru at school and now, now her brother’s active reintroduction into her life. She’s a little overwhelmed, but hides it well. She doesn’t want to lose herself to an overactive imagination.
Her practice wraps up early, one afternoon, and she finds herself again, face to face with Mamoru. He is standing next to the practice foils, his bag and books at his feet. He picks up a blade and she can’t help but stare, studying him.
“Practice is over, sensei,” she says, amused.
“I know.” He turns and extends his arm. The light hits the blade. “I was on the team when I was in school.”
“You were?”
His lips curl. He picks up another foil, tossing it to her. She grabs it at the hilt. Her fingers are shaky and she stares back at him, flushed.
“Sensei,” she says.
“Mamoru,” he corrects.
“Sensei,” she pushes back, and the amusement in her voice is steady. She positions herself in front of him. “We’re in school.”
“We’re alone,” he says.
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re pretty bold.” Her hand claps over her mouth. She’s red, she’s sure. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
He chuckles. “For what?”
But there’s no time to respond because he charges forward, a high extension to her chest. She turns to her left, blocking the hit. Her hair spills over her shoulder and into her eyes.
There is the slight curl of his mouth. He turns his wrist and swings again, forcing her to duck and spin on her foot. She blocks him again without thinking.
“You’re teasing me,” she says. “And holding back, sensei,” she says too.
Usagi pushes for the strike, swinging her arm out. He blocks the hit. There’s weight in it; she’s not sure if it’s her, if it’s her reaction to him, but her lips part and her ears are ringing with the sound of his blade dragging slowly over hers.
“Why are you teasing me?” she murmurs.
“I don’t know.”
Liar, she almost says. It’s hard to stay quiet though. Her hand claps over her mouth and she shifts back, watching him warily. She isn’t quite sure what to do with him, she thinks.
“Don’t hold back,” she says.
His mouth curls. Then it fades and he’s serious, so serious - more than she’s really ever seen him. He pushes his blade down and she relaxes her hand, watching as he reaches for her.
She feels his fingers touch her cheek, then slide along her jaw and into the end strands of her hair. He drags his fingers along her shoulder and she feels like she can’t really breathe. It hurts her throat, the sensation burning as she tries to swallow.
“Okay,” he says.
The next time he is there after a meet, standing behind her on the mat as she adjusts her arm. Her blade sits between her fingers. His hand curves around her shoulder.
“It was too tight.”
She frowns. “No,” she disagrees, dragging her arm out from underneath his hand. But his grip tightens. “I moved too slow.”
“She was lucky,” he argues, and when she turns, he’s smiling, shaking his head. His fingers graze the collar of her uniform. “You’re tired,” he says. “That’s why you lost the meet.”
Usagi flushes, but doesn’t answer. She isn’t really sure what to make of this, of him, of the idea of having this kind of rapport with a teacher. It goes beyond that too. He is her brother’s friend and although she’s never actually seen any interaction between them, and the way he talks about Kris is more than bare, the fact is that he still very much her brother’s friend and a teacher.
But somehow she cannot stop seeing him.
“You’re teasing me again,” she murmurs.
He chuckles.
His fingers curl in her hair and he drags the strands forward. They slip and spill through his fingers.
“Usagi.”
She licks her lips. “You didn’t have to stay after, you know.”
“I don’t have to do a lot of things.” His voice is low and thick. His fingers drop to her shoulder. He rubs his thumb against the arch and then pulls at the collar at her throat. “You know that too,” he says.
“No.”
Her gaze drops. “I don’t know what you want.” The foil drops from her hand. “I can’t read you.”
“Do you want to?”
“And there you go again,” she retorts.
He steps forward, leaning over her. He’s smiling, really smiling, and it’s a dangerous sort of feeling; it uncurls in her belly and without thinking, she lets her fingers graze his mouth.
He bites at the tips of her fingers. Her mouth opens and closes.
But neither of them says anything else at all.
It’s then that the space is too small, that she becomes more than aware at how easy it is for him to stay there steadily. He stares at her, waiting too. For what, she has no idea. She never knows what to say, to think of him or any sort of attention otherwise.
She does not know how to fit him like this. Her hand curls around his wrist, her fingers stretching over his skin. His lips curl again.
Usagi knows it’s simple: she is in over her head.
Kris invites her to dinner at his apartment. His friends are there and it seems all too much for some sort of grand plan and apology.
Mamoru is there too. He sits next to her, across from her brother, as there is so much food and faces that she doesn’t know. She wishes for Minako, maybe more of her other friends too, as if hoping for some kind of balance would help to calm her down.
“Usa-chan?”
She blinks, looking up. Her brother touches her arm.
“I’m fine,” she says quietly. She offers a smile.
“Are we that overwhelming?” Jason asks. She blushes.
“Leave her alone,” Mamoru says, reaching for her beer. “You’re an idiot.”
“It’s fine,” she says. Her lips curl, shaking her head. “I’m just tired,” she says too, and reaches over, touching her brother’s arm. Then she stands up, wanting to take a deep breath. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” she murmurs, ruffling Kris’ hair.
“Down the hall,” he says.
She leaves quietly, all smiles for her brother and his friends and even Mamoru to a certain extent. She likes them all - Zac, the doctor, and then there’s Jason, who she knows, and Nathan who apparently cooks everything when they get together. It’s nice to know that her brother has people. She still just doesn’t understand why suddenly now he’s here, wanting to start over again to get closer.
She finds his bedroom though and opens the door, sitting at the edge of the bed. She breathes in, rubbing her eyes.
“Stupid,” she murmurs.
She looks around then, half-expecting some sign that Kris is just Kris. Instead, she’s greeted by a cold room and overzealous art, everything placed in a particular way; something she feels like would disappoint Minako. Everything stands as something unfamiliar and it makes her uncertain in a way that she doesn’t understand.
There is a knock on the door. It opens then and she looks up.
“Are you all right?” Mamoru closes the door behind himself, leaning against it. His arms are cross. “Kris is worried.”
“Ah,” she says.
“So?”
He’s serious and she feels flustered, suddenly, rubbing at her cheeks. Her legs curl underneath her on the bed.
“You overwhelm me,” she says, and he scoffs. She looks away. “Not just you, all of this - I barely know any of you even though Kris is my brother and you … you’re you. I don’t know what you want.”
“I’m me?” he repeats.
Her palms feel cool against her cheeks as she rubs them again. Her hair brushes over her eyes. Then she stands, quickly and sharply. The room is just dark enough; the skyline is painted back against the walls, easy enough so that she can find the bathroom door.
When she opens it, the light spills forward and the bathroom is even more elaborate than the bedroom. There are too many grays and blues, she decides. There’s no warmth.
She leans against the frame. “I think you overwhelm me the most though,” she says quietly.
“Why?”
“Why,” she counters, “are you always around me?”
“I’m a teacher,” he teases, and he moves to her. She can’t see him, but his hand drops against her hip and he presses against her back. She finds herself leaning against him.
“I don’t understand what you see,” she says.
“Mmm.” His mouth brushes against her jaw. Her eyes widen. Her hand curls around the frame. “I know,” he murmurs. “I’ve started to see.”
“See?”
His fingers slide against her shoulder, then his knuckles graze against her throat. It takes all of her, maybe too much of her, to really understand why she’s trusting him this way. She has always been too serious about her own feelings, maybe too protective even.
“What happened to you?” he says against her ear. She feels him wet his lips, swallowing. “What happened to you that you’re so shy - that you’re hiding yourself?”
“I’m not hiding myself.”
She pulls away, stepping into the bathroom. He grabs her by the arm and she whirls around, her eyes wide.
“Sensei.”
His voice is soft. “You’re lying to me.”
She doesn’t move. It’s a strange split of time that makes her stop and stare at him. Her fingers curl back over his arm then, her nails digging into his skin. She leans forward, closer and closer, and then pushes herself onto her toes.
Her mouth catches his first. She lets it open, a soft pant of a sigh swallowed as he wraps an arm around her waist. She lays a hand against his face though, opening it slightly over his cheek as she bites at his lip. He makes a sound, low, hard, and they stumble back against the sink.
The kiss is slow, maybe too slow, and he is all teeth, almost desperately unaware of how it pushes back at her. She feels herself sink into him, her tongue rolls back over his and he hisses too.
Then his fingers are in her hair. He draws back, eyes dark.
“You kissed me.”
“You’re good at this accusation thing,” she murmurs.
He chuckles. His thumb slides over her lip. His forehead drops against hers, his hand cupping the back of her neck.
“You make me a little crazy,” he says, and finally, finally she has to laugh.
This is trouble.
“You’re seriously going to make sure she gets home okay?” Jason teases, and Usagi is flustered. There is a strange, bitter taste on her mouth.
But Mamoru touches her arm. “Don’t be an ass,” he mutters.
Usagi manages a smile all the same. She kisses her brother’s cheek and then waves to the others as she follows Mamoru out.
Her heart is pounding.
They’re quiet. She tries to think of what to say. It was supposed to get better, she thinks, after - she doesn’t really understand what she feels right now. Her fingers brush against her lips. She smiles and she sighs. Should she even bother, she wonders.
Once they are outside, Mamoru takes her by the arm. She flushes again, but he merely tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
She says nothing. She shrugs though and he pulls her to his car. She turns back around, checking if her brother’s building is out of sight, out of mind, and if anything. They reach his car too and she turns, leaning back against the door.
“Are we -” she stops and laughs, shaking her head. “What’s going to happen?” she asks again.
He softens. “What do you want to happen?”
“Take some responsibility,” she retorts. Her hand covers her mouth. “Sorry,” she shakes her head again, rubbing her eyes. “Are we dating? What does this mean? I don’t want you to think that I just go -”
His mouth brushes over hers. Her eyes widen.
“I don’t,” he says. “I don’t think you just kiss anyone.”
He frames her into the car. The wind picks up and cools against her cheek, biting at her skin. She feels his hands cup her neck, dragging at her jaw. His forehead drops against hers.
“I’ll take you on a date,” he murmurs.
She laughs. “You will, huh?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Just like that?” she asks.
“Mmm.” His thumb slides over her lip. His mouth catches over hers then too. She feels his laugh. “Just like that.”
And this is really how she kisses him again, flushed, shy, and completely aware of how stupid this is, how irresponsible all of this. She thinks briefly of her family, then of her friends - Minako is either going to laugh at her or kill her or possibly both.
But it’s his mouth, soft and certain, the lazy way he bites at her lip and how of their own accord, her fingers seem too able to curl against the back of his neck to bring him closer.
Neither of them say that this is a bad idea.
“You did what.”
Usagi’s hand claps over Minako’s mouth. Her best friend’s eyes are wide. They wait until a few girls leave; it’s too early for the next class, but the girls’ room is like a revolving door of people who are avoiding their morning classes.
She usually has an early club meeting, then student council, but somehow, finding her best friend seems to be more important than anything else. But Minako seems to be staring at her - amusement, maybe, something more, she isn’t sure.
“Stop,” Usagi murmurs.
Her hair falls into her eyes and she clasps a hand over her mouth, looking off to the side.
Her sigh echoes in the bathroom.
“I know. He’s a teacher.”
Minako laughs. “No,” she says. “That I don’t care about - he’s your brother’s hot friend. I mean … when?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Minako pouts. “Fine.” She pushes at her arm. “Don’t tell me.” Then she grins widely. “But you and -” her eyes dance as she looks around. “Chiba-sensei, seriously?”
“I thought you hated him,” she says dryly.
“Eh.” Minako turns and stands next to Usagi. They both lean against the sink, Usagi crossing her arms. “I don’t care for him,” she says lazily. “But if he’s important to you, Usa-chan, I don’t care.”
She pokes her hip.
“I’m the best at keeping secrets.”
Usagi laughs delightedly. “You are not,” she teases, dropping her head against her shoulder. “But I - ” she grows serious, her lips pursing. “I have no idea what it is.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Minako murmurs.
“I guess.”
She doesn’t mention the ride home, or how her hand trembled when she gave him a chase kiss goodbye. It still burned though and she was still all too aware that he watching her closely, too closely if even that.
She does not know where this is going to go.
The classroom is empty. She drops her bag on the floor and closes the door, watching as he looks up from his desk.
“Usagi.”
Her lips curl. “Chiba-sensei.”
There are papers all over his desk. It seems impulsively neat to her. She moves past the door and a few of the counter desk, peering at his work. She looks at him then too, watching the way his glasses seem to slide down his nose as he leans across his desk.
"I took supplementary classes," she says, her fingers touch some of the papers. She sees a few names she recognizes.
The door remains closed. The hallway is quiet, as most of the clubs have gone into longer practices or have gone home for the day. He is watching her too. She can't quite read his gaze though; instead, her fingers graze the top of the desk.
"Because I was terrible at biology."
He laughs. "It isn't for everybody," he says. She moves closer. “Not to worry.”
"I'm squeamish."
Her lips curl and she sits at the edge of his desk, leaning against it too. Her knees brush lightly against his legs. Her hands curl around the edge too.
"That's okay too," he murmurs, and she laughs softly, shaking her head. She finds herself leaning over him too, studying him openly. It's more than just a meet now: it's two, three, four more times now. She knows when he's there too.
And it's more than that. She likes it. She likes that he's there, watching her. It unravels deep in her too, the idea that he's coming to see her.
Then he touches her knee. His fingers graze over the hem of her skirt.
"Sensei?" His eyes narrow. Her lips curl. “Mamoru,” she corrects.
The fabric pushes over her knee. "It's bad, you know," he says. "That I think you're different. This isn't what I wanted, you know?"
"I know," she says quietly.
"I told you to call me Mamoru too."
She laughs, looking down. "When we're alone," she says. "You keep reminding me, it seems."
Then both his hands are on her legs, sliding over her knees and then under her skirt. He stands too and she watches as his palms flesh over her thighs. His skin is warm and hot and she reaches out, letting her fingers graze his arms.
"Mamoru," she says. She tugs at the sleeves of his shirt. They fall over the cuff at his elbow too. "Mamoru," she says again. "Is that better?"
"Look at me."
Her cheeks grow hot then. It's that same feeling from before, how it uncurls in her belly and deeper - much deeper inside of her. She lets her hands open over his arms and then slowly, very slowly, she looks up to meet his gaze.
His forehead rests against hers. The desk presses against the back of her thighs.
"You're more than just different."
She laughs huskily. The sound catches at her throat. "I would hope so," she murmurs, but he's serious, and then there's a hand in her hair. "Mamoru?"
His fingers curl in her hair.
"I want to kiss you," he says.
“At school?”
“Your brother’s going to kill me,” he murmurs, and his mouth slants overs. He kisses hard. His mouth is too sharp and her hands fly up to curl in his jacket.
“Stop talking about my brother.”
“He is though,” Mamoru tells her, his fingers curling in the collar of her blouse. “I would kill me too.”
She rolls her eyes, biting at his lip. He pushes her back against the desk, further over the papers. They rustle against her back and legs and then his hands are curled in hers, their fingers lacing.
“Idiot,” she murmurs, then flushes because her skirt starts to slide further up her legs. He says nothing. She pushes at his jacket and it’s stupid, it’s so stupid because the door is still open and the lights being dark could mean nothing at all.
She doesn’t think.
His fingers are inside of her.
She threads her own through his hair, panting as she arches back into the desk. Her eyes squeeze shut.
“Mamoru,” she breathes.
“It’s a good thing you’re not in my class,” he murmurs, and she chokes out a laugh, arching into his hand. She is watching him through half-lidded as his mouth slides over her thigh.
His mouth is hot and wet and she mews, her fist tightening through his hair. Her awareness is making her unravel. It’s about how hot his mouth is, how wet - when it slides over her, her clit, she lets out another soft cry, releasing her fist from his hair.
She bites at her knuckles.
“Talk to me,” he says, and then he’s shifting, his fingers sliding out of her. They drag against her thigh. His mouth presses over her belly. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmurs.
“This is crazy,” she gasps.
It isn’t until his mouth is over hers again, until he’s sliding inside her, until she feels hot and tight and completely stretched, that she knows that she’s come to accept this, whatever this is, without any qualms.
Maybe that’s the strangest part of this all.
“There’s something different about you,” Kris says over coffee, and next to her, Minako spits out her drink. It flies everywhere.
Usagi sighs and hands her a napkin. She ignores her brother for the moment, her cheeks warm.
She tries not to think about it, Mamoru; there is a range of emotions she doesn’t really know how she subscribes to. Minako kicks her under the table though.
Shape up, she mouths and Usagi sighs again, locking back at her brother. It’s been small dinners here and there. Sometimes she sees Mamoru. Something she doesn’t. Most of the time they act as they’ve always acted; somewhere between a secret and something else.
Usagi just smiles at her brother though.
“It’s nothing,” she says.
Later she thinks about what he says.
The homework on her bed remains untouched and it’s really odd, if she pieces it together, between the slow, secret meetings and nothing really tangible enough to say this is something.
Is she really that different? Is something changing?
For the first time, she worries about what Mamoru feels.
There is a visitor outside the school.
She barely pays attention. She has a meet this afternoon and she slides the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
But the crowds of students are murmuring excitedly. She sees a glance of her brother, then Mamoru, and a few of their friends, including another woman standing by the car.
Minako catches her arm. “I didn’t know he was coming?”
“Neither did I,” she murmurs, and her gaze follows the woman, just as she laces her arm through Mamoru’s. She stops and studies him. There’s a lazy smile, soft even.
“Who’s that?”
Usagi shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?” Minako asks gently, but Usagi doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say anything. She has to focus.
But her brother spots her, then all of his friends, and she is swept into a round of hugs and greetings.
“This is Rei,” Kris introduces the woman on Mamoru’s arm first. Then there’s another one, on his side. Minako’s eyes are narrow. “This Makoto. Friends from school,” he offers.
“Ah.” Usagi returns. She allows a half-smile to grace her mouth. “Hello,” she greets, and then steps back, adjusting her bag.
“We’ve come to see your meet,” her brother says.
“You’re making a scene,” Minako mutters, and her eyes narrow. She stands taller, glaring at Kris.
A small argument erupts. But Usagi pays no attention. Her head is a mess; she forces herself to smile, absently glancing everywhere else. Students are watching. A couple of the boys wave to her. There are a lot of offerings of good luck! and one of the girls from her team comes up to the group.
She is aware of her uniform then, how tight it is, and the way the fabric peels at her skin. Her hand catches at Minako’s elbow and her breathing starts to shake.
“Mina-chan,” she says.
“Ah,” her friend says. She grips her arm, looking at the group. “We should go. You should go -”
“Usa?”
She smiles weakly at her brother. “Fine,” she murmurs. “I should just have a snack -”
But her ears are ringing and she feels too many people watching her. She has a lot of memories, small and large, of waiting for her parents, of her brother - just wanting someone to take her hand and be a sense of stability. There is no particular moment that she can pick out where it was the sole reason for her shakiness. It doesn’t matter, she thinks.
She forces herself to take a deep breath. Minako says something about nerves and Usagi steps back from the group.
“See you later,” she says, smiling.
She cannot look at Mamoru.
All four matches go to her. The last Usagi swings quickly, dipping into a spin and pressing the point of her blade into the padding of her opponent, sweat licking away at her throat.
There is the buzzer. She sighs after.
“You were so great!” cheers Naru, their manager. She claps her hands together and hands her a towel.
She likes the pulse of her blade - the foils for practice, the others for matches - and the steadiness it offers. She’s allowed to have a sense of speed and confidence that is hers and hers alone.
The crowd is big enough, however, and she brings the towel to her face, hiding her flush as her brother comes down to greet her. He’s followed by Mamoru and Jason, the others staying behind in their seats as the other matches wrap up for the afternoon.
“You were incredible,” her brother grins.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, flushing.
“I told you,” Mamoru says, eyes dark. Usagi doesn’t look at him though. All she sees is the woman’s hand on his arm, her arm through his, and she feels too much like a child.
She manages a shy smile though, turning to watch the rest of the matches. Her fingers tremble a little as the reach up and pull at her hair. She tugs at the band that holds it back.
It falls loose and warm against her shoulders. There is a hand on her arm.
“Dinner’s at my place tonight,” Kris tells her. “You and Mina can come - Makoto is a genius cook.”
Her lips twitch. “All right.”
He leaves her, but Mamoru doesn’t. He’s watching her and she rubs away a flush that grows at her cheeks.
“Stop.”
He chuckles. “You’re angry with me,” he says.
“I am not,” she says to him, and she turns. She jumps when he touches her wrist. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she says then.
It’s for the best, she thinks.
All of this was a long time ago, back after her brother left, and she was starting to learn what the weight of a confession really means.
It’s just that boys are boys and girls are girls, and she never though she’d be one of those girls, not yet attached but somehow ready for a confession herself. What would he say - she’s sure that Mamoru’s heard all sorts of things and somehow, maybe, it would just be easier to go back to those small smiles and the lazy banter.
The truth is now she knows how he touches her. She knows how he kisses her and it’s all too physical.
This isn’t what she needs.
It’s a party. It’s a party.
Usagi tries her best, of course. She ends up talking happily with Makoto in the kitchen as she cooks. She likes the older woman, who happens to be engaged to Nathan. She tells Minako to go and enjoy herself too - her best friend is better at these things, charming her way through crowds and strangers and everything else that Usagi has no apparent interest in.
Occasionally, though, she’ll find herself looking for Mamoru.
He’s in the company of Rei and a few other women, talking with that lazy, unabashed smirk of his. She finds out from her brother that he and Rei have had some sort of thing. It bothers her more than it should. But it’s also one of those few times that she gets to watch him without feeling out of place. No one notices. No one needs to.
But it really bothers her. The thing.
He excuses himself later. She isn’t sure as to why.
Minako kicks her under the table though. “Go,” she hisses through a smile. “You’ve been staring at each other all night. I’ll cover for you, okay?”
Usagi blinks. Minako salutes her and then nods off to her brother, who, by all means, looks occupied by his friends. She excuses herself, smoothing her hands against her dress and following the hallway to the bedrooms in the back.
He’s not in Kris’ room, but there is another room. The light is faint and she finds him standing against another door. It leads out into another balcony and he leans against it.
"She's beautiful, Rei-san."
Her head rests against the frame of the door. She feels awkward and confused. The dress feels a little too demure for this place.
"Kris says that she's liked you for a while," she murmurs. "Chiba-sensei," she adds.
His eyes are dark. He walks to her, his hand pressing against the frame. She ducks and turns away from him, her hands brushing over her face. She feels tired. There's an ache in her throat that shouldn't be there. She shouldn't be here, she tells herself.
"I know," he says quietly.
"So then - "
"Look at me," he cuts her off. His fingers catch her shoulders. She blinks and sighs, trying to shrug him away. His fingers slide under the strap of her dress. "Usa-chan."
She doesn't push him away again. Her shoulders slump though. The murmurs of the party are faint somewhere behind them.
"I don't do well in crowds."
“I know,” he says.
Her lips curl. It's not a particular smile. It feels slight and weak.
"Don't you want to know why?"
Her eyes close. She feels it rolling around in her belly, crawling up against her throat.
"You make me feel like an idiot." She reaches out, her fist hitting his chest. “I - you make me feel like an idiot and I hate it. It was never this bad, Mamoru.”
“Just ask me,” he says.
“Ask you what,” she blurts. Her eyes are wide and she hits his chest again. “How you feel? Are you really going to tell me that sensei? Are you?”
His hand curls around her fist. He pulls at each of her fingers, unwrapping them and then bringing her hand to his mouth. He kisses her palm and she flushes, biting her lip.
We’re friends, he doesn’t say. I know, she doesn’t say. Instead, he leans over her, still holding her hand. His mouth slides over hers and he’s kissing her all the same.
He takes his time, biting at her lip. His tongue flicks over hers and she pushes back, deepening the kiss. Her other hand manages to curl at the nape of his neck too, dragging him forward.
Then he’s pushing her into the frame of the open door, pushing up her dress and then lifting her against the wood. She makes a small gasp into his mouth and then it’s the sound of his belt, her own hands pulling at his shirt as he slides inside of her.
He’s hot and she feels heavy and tight, her legs squeezing at his waist. He thrusts forward, pulling his head back.
“I only have eyes for you,” he bites out.
She licks at his jaw. The murmurs of the party get loud. Someone is laughing; her hips push back at Mamoru’s.
“Usa -”
“Okay,” she breathes, and she takes that confession.
The wall against her back is heavy. Then they’re slumped into the floor, her knees into the carpet as he decides he wants to see her come again and she decides to let him.
He nails scrape against his chest. Her eyes are wide and open and he sinks another finger inside of her. Her hips are rocking, his thumb flicking at her clit.
“I like - when - you watch me,” she tells him, and instead of letting himself, she steals it from him. Her teeth sink into his lip and he’s laughing into her mouth, along with the music and the crowd.
It’s sensation and sound, but she’s buried deep into her own awareness of Mamoru as he pushes her further and further; she doesn’t cry out when she comes that second time, instead she falls forward into his chest and closes her eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells her. His mouth is at her ear.
Then he tells her again.
Kris’ fist comes after everyone leaves.
There is Minako and Mamoru, Jason standing between them as her brother’s eyes narrow.
“I’m not an idiot,” he spits, and Usagi is calm enough to kneel at Mamoru’s side without even thinking. “That’s my sister.”
He winces under her fingertips as they press against the skin. There is a bite at her throat and she lets out a soft giggle.
Mamoru looks up at her surprise.
But she can’t stop giggling - it starts small and soft, then gets louder and fuller. She shifts and moves into Mamoru’s lap, looking up at Minako. The two girls share a look and her best friend disappears into the kitchen, mostly to get her ice.
Her lips press against Mamoru’s forehead and she looks at her brother, held back by Jason.
“Don’t worry, onii-san,” she says, and her voice is warm. “I’ll make an honest man out of him, I promise.”
Mamoru meets her gaze.
Usagi smiles.