Even more drabbles.
Decorations
“Honestly, Usagi-chan! A tattoo?” Motoki shook his head, all the image of a disappointed older brother-which, to be quite frank, pissed off Usagi even more.
“It’s just a picture of a rose, Motoki!” Usagi said. A beautiful red rose with swirling vines had been inked just below her left shoulder. Any thrill she had felt at showing off the tattoo instantly crumbled to pieces as soon as Motoki started giving her a lecture about how she was ‘too young’ and how she would ‘regret this later’ and how ‘tattoo removal procedures were not only expensive, but they hurt’. “Honestly,” continued Usagi, “what’s wrong with wanting to decorate your body a little bit?”
Mamoru chose to walk in at that moment, and he was speechless. “I don’t believe it,” he crowed. “Are you two actually having a fight? What’s wrong, Odango? Found out your dream guy wasn’t perfect after all?”
Usagi’s face burned red-from anger or embarassment, Mamoru wasn’t sure. “Stay out of this, baka. I don't want to hear a word from you.”
Despite her size, her tone left something to be feared.
“What did your parents say?” Motoki demanded.
Usagi flushed. “My dad wasn’t too happy,” she admitted.
“Hah!”
“-but my mom was totally supportive!”
Motoki rolled her eyes. “Mamoru, tell her what a stupid idea it was to get a tattoo!”
“Don’t you dare!” Usagi hissed at Mamoru. “And it’s not like I got some stupid phrase or swear word tattoo. What’s the big deal? It’s my body anyway!”
Truth be told, there was a very significant reason why Usagi had gotten a rose-and she had decided long and hard about it, too.
If the Senshi ever did defeat Beryl-if they did, somehow, finish this battle, and were able to come out of it alive-she wanted to remember this moment. She wanted to remember how hard she had fought for peace, wanted to remember never to take life for granted. But most of all, she wanted to remember her comrades: her four best friends and the masked hero who had always saved ever-even if she never got around to unmasking him.
And a tattoo seemed a much more appealing way to remember all that than a stupid battle scar. And she had chosen a rose because Tuxedo Kamen had been with her since the very beginning. (Plus, it took up far less space than inking ice, fire, thunder, and crescent beams.)
Motoki was still staring expectantly at Mamoru.
“I agree,” said Mamoru.
Motoki beamed and him and turned smugly to Usagi. “See!”
“ . . . with Odango.”
Silence.
“What?”
“What?”
Mamoru shrugged, his face all seriousness. “I totally support body art.”
Usagi and Motoki were still watching him with open jaws.
“What? Girls spend so much more money on plastic surgery and all that junk, and our society basically eggs it on. This, though,” he said, gesturing to Usagi’s tattoo, “is a great statement of personal identity. I, for one, have always wanted my left ear pierced.” He grinned at Usagi. “You know, I think I’ll actually go do that this weekend.”
Motoki shook his head and threw his arms up in the air. “Whatever! You two are hopeless!” he said, thoroughly annoyed. “I have work to do. And don’t expect any free drinks for the rest of the month!”
Mamoru sighed as he left. “He’ll come around eventually.”
Usagi finally managed to break out of her daze. “Th-thank you, Mamoru.” She hesitantly smiled at him. “That was very kind.”
Mamoru snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Odango. I did it for the art, not you.”
And without further ado, Mamoru pulled out a book and began to read while he waited for his coffee.
Usagi fumed in her seat, but then sighed. And just when she had thought they were making progress! Motoki was right. Hopeless, indeed.
Though, to be fair, Usagi probably wouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion if she had noticed the way Mamoru’s eyes lingered on her tattoo a bit longer than necessary.
Streamers
“Baka! Don’t be so lazy! Come help us!”
Mamoru ignored her, sipping his coffee quietly. He absolutely, without a doubt, would not condone the hanging up of any more streamers. And he had perfectly good reasons why: hanging up streamers was a waste of time, a waste of money, and a waste to the environment. Not to mention that the streamers Usagi chose were always disgustingly bright and killed his already strained eyes. Right now, she was on a ten-foot ladder (because only Usagi needed a ladder that high to reach the ceiling), hanging up fluorescent pink streamers in honour of the Crown’s fourteenth anniversary.
And Motoki, the traitor, let her hang them up.
No sir, thought Mamoru, they’re not getting any help from me.
“You’re a jerk, baka!”
“So what’s new? You always call me a jerk.”
Usagi harrumphed and went back to work.
“Oh, rats!”
Mamoru watched, in slow motion, as the end of the streamer that Usagi was taping to the corner of the wall lost its hold and floated to the floor.
And then she jumped.
Off of a ten-foot ladder. To grab the end of a streamer.
Mamoru’s mind barely had enough time to process this before he was out of his chair and racing towards the place of her fall. She tumbled into his arms with an “Oomph!” and the streamers fluttered slowly to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mamoru’s voice rose into a roar.
Usagi blinked, still struggling to catch her breath. OK, so maybe jumping off a ladder to catch a streamer was a stupid idea-but she hadn’t expected to be saved. She had taken much longer leaps, after all.
She drew a breath to yell back at Mamoru that if only he’d been helping her, she wouldn’t have fell. But then, abruptly, she stopped. If he had been helping her, she thought with an inward giggle, then she certainly wouldn’t be in this very comfortable position right now.
Midnight
Midnight was their time.
It was a pattern of sorts. She’d pick the place, and he’d use their link to follow her and sit beside her. Of course they knew each other’s identities. Its revelation was quite the accident. One day, Sailor Moon was complaining about a boy to Tuxedo Kamen and Tuxedo Kamen was complaining about a girl to Sailor Moon, and they both realized with chagrin that they were complaining about each other to each other. But they took it in stride, like everything else that had been happening these past few months. Their civilian identities were just another weird anomaly to adjust to. Nothing special or spectacular-just a matter of life.
Sometimes, they’d sit on a rooftop or on a thick branch of a willow tree, staring at the endless sky, thankful that they had one more day to live. Or sometimes, she’d fall asleep right then, and he’d hold her until she woke up and sleepily muttered that she should go home.
Sometimes, especially when each battle became more and more hectic, they’d hold each other tightly. They’d kiss, too. Why shouldn’t they? Both of them thought about it often enough, and neither made any move to deny that they thought about it. Kissing was nice. More so, because midnight was the only time they had to do it.
Sometimes, they’d go over their arguments of their civilian form-not to convince each other, oh no, but to laugh about it. Tuxedo Kamen sometimes pointed out how adorable when she was mad, and Sailor Moon would hide her face in his tuxedo and blush. Or they’d laugh about how Motoki believed that even if they were the last two people in the galaxy, they still wouldn’t get along, and wonder if he’d really have a heart attack if he found out the truth.
Or sometimes, like tonight, they’d talk about revealing themselves. Revealing them. In their civilian forms. They’d talk about how it would be nice to continue this all the time, how it’d be nice to actually date-go see a movie or go to the beach. But then they’d have too many people in their lives-too many people influencing them to be like this or act like that, too many people watching them.
Maybe someday, they agreed. Someday, they’d tell the world. But right now, it was midnight, and it was their time.
Costume
Sailor Mars was making out with a mime.
Or, rather, Tsukino Usagi was making out with Chiba Mamoru. But nobody really saw that.
Usagi pulled away long enough to take a breath. “We should stop,” she panted in his ear. Mamoru trailed kisses down her jaw and her neck, sending delightful shivers up and down Usagi’s spine. “What if someone sees us?”
“Who’s going to recognize us?” he murmured against her neck. “There are way too many people dressed up as Sailor Senshi this year.”
Usagi was about to object that her friends probably would-and that was what she was most scared about-but Mamoru kissed her again, hard, and she forgot everything. Both his hands were tangled in her hair-which, Usagi had insisted, was actually her hair, dyed black and straightened for one day. After all, it’s not like she could’ve told him the truth-that she had used the Luna Pen to create her extremely spot-on costume.
“Mm, I’ve always thought Sailor Mars was too sexy for her own good.”
Usagi ripped her lips away from Mamoru’s. “Sailor Mars?” she shrieked, causing many heads to turn. With a truly terrifying glare, she impaled her red stilettos on his foot, eliciting a very satisfying howl of pain, and stomped away from him.
And then Mamoru was left standing there, a prime target for sympathetic glances and choked sniggers, wondering what exactly he had done wrong.
Pumpkin
“Motoki, isn’t there a law that prohibits children from playing with sharp objects without adult supervision?”
Mamoru hadn’t even finished his sentence before a scraggly cut piece of pumpkin went splat against his left cheek. He pulled it off with some disgust, glaring at Usagi as he did so. But the girl had innocently gone back to work on carving out her jack-o-lantern.
A little while later, Usagi jammed a black top hat onto the pumpkin and held it out for Motoki to see. “There, Motoki-onii-san! All done!”
“You know, that’s actually a pretty good idea,” Mamoru approved, much to Usagi’s shock. “Adding a top hat does distract the viewer from the shabby job and overall ugliness of that thing.”
“It’s Tuxedo Kamen, baka!” She thrust the jack-o-lantern in front of his face, and Mamoru could see that the top hat was held in place by two wilting red roses.
“I didn’t know Tuxedo Kamen handed out dead roses,” he drawled.
“You trying finding two perfect red roses in the middle of October!” Usagi snapped. She scooped up her jack-o-lantern and placed it on the shelf hanging from the wall that adjoined the counter.
As soon as Usagi left, and Motoki was out of sight, Mamoru pulled the jack-o-lantern back down, a small smile playing on his lips. Tuxedo Kamen, huh? He pulled out the two roses, intending to replace them two fresh steel-tipped ones.
But as he pulled out the first rose, he froze, a cold chill trickling down his spine. It already was steel-tipped.
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