Chapter Three
The frustrated slap of heavy textbooks echoed in the vapid room. One could almost hear the exasperated noise tumble along the bare walls of the hallway and nestle deeply in the back rooms as a testament to the pensive anger radiating from the front room. The usually clean space was spattered here and there with misplaced objects, conspicuous clues to the frustration he’d felt recently. Littered across the living room table haphazardly were books of every kind, spilling over the edge and onto the plain beige carpeting below like fallen toy soldiers.
Midnight black locks hung low as the soft sigh broke through the enclosing hands to follow the path of his earlier frustration. Try as he might, none of these subjects held any interest to him. Every time he even bothered to think about his school work, the issue would somehow weasel it’s way into his brain and stick there. Tired hands massaged his wearied face as he forced himself to breathe slowly. It had been a few days since the night on the rooftops, and he wasn’t entirely sure when things had gotten so far out of control.
Gentle fingertips brushed along his still-bruising nose bridge, and he wondered once again if his powers had saved him from instant death that night. Had any of the shards been jettisoned into his brain at that velocity, the gray matter would have resembled something close to Swiss cheese. The force of her punch had completely shattered both bone and cartilage, and had cost one hell of an emergency room visit to fix. Though his powers as Tuxedo Kamen did help the healing process, it would not set bone or reconstruct an entire nose bridge, as only a plastic surgeon could. It was thanks to the psychometry alone that he didn’t have some ridiculous plastic brace stuck to him still. If it hadn’t been so blindingly painful, he would have been strangely proud of her for having the guts to do it.
Now the only problem was to figure out what exactly he’d done to incite the violent reaction. She had admitted she loved him, and that was enough for him. He had asked her out, not been too pushy, not sounded arrogant, had waited patiently for the reply. She had refused –and broke his nose. Why?
This new information added a whole new dimension to her personality that he’d never considered before. He’d categorized her as one of those that destiny had just kind of jack-knifed into the position; she always seemed much too sweet and sincere to be in the super-hero business. It was part of her charm, really, because she had to overcome so much of her nature to fight at all. He respected that very deeply, knowing that if he were to attempt such a feat, he’d fail miserably. Most of that came from just being himself for way too long without caring what anyone else thought. It brought a strange sense of satisfaction, knowing he could act as he pleased without feeling guilt or remorse. On more than one occasion, he’d had to deal with the consequences, however little they meant to him on a personal level… But he was getting off subject here.
The point, he concluded, was that Sailor Moon seemed to have a whole other part to her personality –one he’d never even considered, let alone seen evidence of. Despite any earlier calculations, it would seem that this other facet held the tiniest bit of ill-will towards his civilian identity. That meant they had to have met each other previously; and knowing how he was, he’d probably been his usual charming self.
A grimace crinkled against his face at the thought, wondering if it were even possible to see her and not be attracted. Well, that is if they hadn’t met until after he’d known Moon herself, in which case it was a definite possibility. Anything within a four or five month period of meeting her seemed too lame to bother with, and anything after wasn’t even an attraction. The dark expression vaulted in panic as he thought, steps quickening in the beige carpet. If that were the case, he was going to have to do something drastic to make up the difference.
She did happen to be a superhero; and with the title an overwhelming sense of justice. If he had done something incredibly stupid, it would mean a lot of sucking up time. Sailor Moon was always declaring war on a youma for doing something unforgivable, how much worse would it be for a guy who had turned her down flat without even glancing up from a book? As tempting as the information was; it did not explain how the young girl had gone from young, clueless-ly cute little temptress to knocking him flat on his back. In the normal world, she would have simply turned him down and given ample explanation when pressed. The pain emanating from his nose was a painful reminder that that was not the way things had happened a few nights prior. It just didn’t make any sense. Girls did not go homicidal over a date!
Well, unless she was… A horrified look crept over his features as he thought of it; because God could not be that cruel.
Sailor Moon…he swallowed thickly, wishing he didn’t have to finish the thought… had PMS!
If she was like that every month…. Mamoru drew in a ragged breath, a disturbingly new twitching sensation lighting in his left eye as he thought. The horror he could face at the hand of a tortured Senshi sent a chill running down his spine and sweat to break across his forehead. She’d put him in the emergency room for asking her out; what the hell would she do if he actually said something mean to her?
His mouth tightened in determination, now was not the time for demoralization. He’d known coming into this that sacrifices needed to be made. Future health could be one of them. His hopes were up, though; so long as he kept his eye on her fists and her hands full of chocolate, it shouldn’t be an issue. Because as far as he knew, chocolate was the one sure-fire way to a woman’s heart; and no true woman would injure herself or others when in the presence of the ‘ultimate offering’.
Right?
Though part of his realization gave him a sense of pride for figuring it out, the other was shuddering. Most girls were scary around that time, but a superhero had to be something out of a slasher flick. He still wanted her, he wasn’t so shallow that a little week of hell every once in a while would change his mind. Besides, he knew tons of guys who were in long term relationships without too many problems… of course none of them were seeing a girl who could knock down a building with their backsides either.
“That’s just wrong.” He muttered quietly, standing to pace around the apartment.
The point was, because he’d been sidetracked again, that whether or not this whole problem resulted from hormonal issues was completely irrelevant. She had acted outside the boundary he’d previously seen and set as her undeniable character. And he’d known her for a year and a half, as he’d noted before, and therefore should be a good judge on where that line was. After all, she’d never hauled off and knocked a Youma silly just because it happened to be bad timing for her. She’d always been the same kind of person no matter when things got ugly.
What had been wrong with her? The tightness around his mouth loosened as he thought it over again. She’d been shivering, crying as if her heart were broken. The soft, alien sensation sizzled in his chest a small moment, his hand rising to rub gently over his heart. It had to be love, because any other girl could cry and not get a single reaction from him. Any other girl could turn him down, beat him senseless, or call him a man-whore however they pleased; but to see those tears on her face actually made him feel…guilty.
It was a new sensation. He’d never had any sort of moral code taught to him as a child; well, none that he could remember anyway. This sense of having done something horribly wrong was not normal. Seeing her cry should not affect him as deeply as it did, and he had never wanted anyone as much as her…
For a boy who had never known even a speck of love in his life, it was enough concrete proof to win a court case.
A wicked grin split his face in thought. That wasn’t even counting the physical side effects.
~~~~~~~~~~
Pale, trembling fingers clenched in fury. The silent tapping of water filled the silence with rhythmic indifference. Soft tissues bunched together beneath stern, unimpassioned hands. An angry growl broke the steady strain, filled the tense quiet with every emotion felt.
Rage, hatred, pain.
The thin door was thrown back beneath the torrent of feelings burning through her. How dare he? How dare he speak to her like that? Jerk! The bitter hatred uncoiled unpleasantly in her still queasy stomach, but it was a childish rebellion against the soft drops of sorrow leaking from her face into the carpet. She blinked back the heavy rainfall from her eyes, forced her feet to move uneasily along the hallway to her bedroom. Her soft footsteps did little to sooth the pain, the anger that flooded every nerve; made her wish she was steady enough to stomp her way from the bathroom.
Three days since that night, and Usagi still couldn’t believe what had happened. Chiba Mamoru had asked her out! No, she shook her head in bitter confusion, had asked out Sailor Moon! What was the difference between them, though? The warrior was a part of Usagi, wasn’t she? They both klutz out, cried like babies, acted like kids, screamed in terror, and froze when faced with any deadly object hurling their direction. And here was the kicker, she guffawed haughtily, they both had his detested hairstyle! How could someone miss something so painfully obvious!? But no, he wouldn’t have even bothered to glance in the direction of her hair; and if he had, he wouldn’t have made any connection to the whiny, scrawny school girl from Crown. When given her painful klutz attack from earlier that night, there was still no connection to Usagi even though it was his favorite thing to tease her about! Had he asked her how she felt? No. Had he cared she couldn’t even keep her legs under her? No.
Hell, had he even noticed she was sick?! No. Why?
Because Chiba Mamoru, though irritatingly perfect in every other aspect, was so completely self centered he hadn’t bothered to take time between confessions to at least check and see if she was alright. All he’d done is slung his cape around her shoulders and pretended like that had somehow filled his gentleman quota for the evening! She rolled her eyes angrily at the thought, replaying over and over the whole conversation. Part of her wished she hadn’t given away so much information to him without realizing who he was. The other part of her wondered if he’d even listened enough to remember any of it.
Then, he’d talked to her as if she really had no other option than to go out with him. Heck, he’d probably already bought everything for that dinner he’d asked to cook for her, so sure he’d been of her answer. Well, she’d shown him! The jerk; he hadn’t even wondered why she didn’t say anything after the mask came off. She’d felt so betrayed, knowing she’d just admitted everything to his face –twice! And he just kept coming, just kept talking as if his feelings were the only ones that mattered! He hadn’t even bothered to make sense of what she’d been telling him! Everything he said was just another reminder that the only one he wanted was Moon, and that ‘given time’ he would accept Usagi. Well, of that she held no doubt. Given a time slot of two seconds, he would have thrown her away like so much trash.
Well, she’d beaten him to the punch, so to speak. A lofty smile curled around her mouth as the last few moments of their conversation replayed in her mind.
Hers and Mamoru’s relationship could be called anything except civil. They’d always gotten on each other’s nerves, always yelled like schoolyard children, and frankly, had always hated each other. Well, till she had to go and ruin everything by falling in love with the idiot. Why had she done that again? He was everything dark and brooding and bitter, and she was the exact opposite. And no, the term opposites attract meant nothing to her. It was almost as if she was drawn to him. It was almost as if she had no choice but to love him, even though really she hated him.
It was for that reason that she’d fought it so hard. She didn’t want to be involved with that jerk at all! Other than looks, he had nothing going for him that she would normally see as attractive. He was a know-it-all, snobby, upper-class playboy who had no respect for anything female. She did not have a bad boy complex. Her father had been perfectly clear that when she was old enough to date, (which according to him wouldn’t happen for another twenty years) she would choose the most gentlemanly, sweet man she was capable of finding. He would treat her like a queen, or her father would…do something rather unpleasant.
And let’s face it, Chiba Mamoru was less than gentlemanly. His mannerisms raved of high society, but his personality came straight from the gutter. And even though literally every girl that crossed his path seemed madly in love with him, Usagi had not just fallen into the trap because of the ‘in’ crowd. She’d fought every sensation tooth and nail, denied the existence of it, hidden it under her bed, in the back of her mind, kicked it, drowned it, stabbed it over with every horrible aspect of his character, and when that didn’t work, she cried.
That day had been awful too. She had finally given up trying to deny any feelings for him, but she had decided to wait it out. When she’d gotten out of detention, her first thought had been Crown, her sweet ‘older brother’ and the brooding enemy. What she’d found had been something else entirely. He’d sat there, staring dejectedly into his coffee mug with his unkempt hair hanging in front of his eyes. She had wanted very badly to say something snide, make him forget his ridiculous addiction. Instead, a very soft feeling was burned into her chest …because he’d looked so lonely….
“No…” She moaned, dragging the word out to cover at least six syllables as the covers where thrown over her head. Hot tears poured freely from her eyes as the same sensation sizzled in her heart. Even the thought of him looking so abandoned made her ache…made her want to hold him….
She sobbed helplessly into the pillow, cursing herself over and over again for being so weak, so pathetic. Usagi had never seen herself as strong, but this was just…too much. She had no reason to cry over a pig like him because she’d turned him down this time, and by every right. So why did it hurt like the dickens to think about him? Why did she find herself wondering if that same soft look of abandonment was on his face right now….
“Get out of my head….” She whimpered softly, wishing the cotton in her ears would shift even a few inches and block out her disturbing thoughts. Her tongue felt like socks, her blood sizzled with fever, and her stomach churned stubbornly, refusing to admit it was already empty from the previous three trips to the bathroom. She was sick and tired and couldn’t sleep and could stop thinking and her head hurt and she just wanted…
“Who are you talking to, dear?” The sound of footsteps accompanied the soft creaking of rusty hinges. The young girl stilled beneath the covers, hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes and turned away. It was bad enough to cry over something so ridiculous, but to have her mother catch her was just not right. -Especially since she couldn’t offer a valid excuse without getting in trouble.
“No one.” She answered quietly. Both arms wrapped around her stomach carefully as the covers were pulled away from her face. Soft violet-blue waves fell around her, companions to the gentle care-worn eyes that leaned down lovingly. Fingertips touched the puffy flesh at her cheeks, and pressed against her warm forehead coolly. Usagi sighed at the stern, bemused tilt to her mother’s mouth, knowing she’d been caught in the act.
“Are you alright? Headache again?” The blond nodded quietly, sniffling back the tears that threatened to rise again. “Did you eat something?” her mother pressed, fingers tugging through the mass of golden knots. When her daughter didn’t answer, a longsuffering sigh escaped her lungs as velvety eyebrows drew together. “Usa-chan…it’s dangerous. You need to eat something every few hours. The doc …”
“I know, mama.” Her tone was harsh, self-mocking as she cut into her mother’s patient words. “Trust me, I know.” Strong violet eyes bore directly into hers despite any earlier comments, a silent question in them. Usagi didn’t have to guess blindly at what she wanted to know. “I can’t keep anything down! I don’t see the point of eating if I’m just gunna throw it up!”
“Well, that’s no excuse to be irresponsible about your health, Usagi-chan. You know how fragile you can be.” Frustrated, the older woman lifted herself from the bed and stalked toward the open doorway, completely ignoring that angry glare piercing the back of her skull.
“I am not fragile!”
The pathetic outcry met with silence as the door closed softly once more. Frustrated, the blond slid back into the covers and pretended that whole conversation didn’t happen. She had more important things to worry about right now, anyway, and one of them was figuring out what she’d ever done to attract Mamoru’s attention as Sailor Moon. At first, she’d been shocked and confused when he came forward. It wasn’t like a regular civilian could have known she would be there or would have done anything so…arrogant. Then the mask had come off and explained everything.
Despite the anger at remembering his words then, she felt a wave of relief pass through her. She’d hesitated to change back because she knew the trip home would be awful, but really it had been a saving grace. If he’d watched her de-transform, well, Mamoru wouldn’t have bothered her again that was for sure, but even more disturbing was the fact that Tuxedo Kamen wouldn’t come to her rescue. Usagi was not so self possessed as her arch rival; she knew she needed him to be there in case things went wrong.
But maybe that was half her problem right there. What if, because she turned him down, he stopped coming?
What if she didn’t even want him there?
“Now, I want you to drink all of this, Usagi-chan. Sip slowly, of course, but…well, you know.” Both blue eyes shot to her mother’s form in the doorway, thoughts still confused and muddled. A small bowl was cupped between each motherly hand, steaming hot in the warm afternoon air. The young girl swallowed thickly, afraid of what it would do to her to drink whatever it was. Knowing her mother, it probably tasted like a cross breed of dog mixed with rat poison…as did all of Ikuko’s home remedies. A dark look passed over her young face at the thought, sure her mother did those things just to encourage good attendance records.
To her ultimate relief, the broth smelled like chicken and warmed her sore throat on the way down. It was hard to even sip the offering, knowing she’d probably be bending over the toilet in about five minutes, but she tried her best. As she did so, her mother wandered around the room, picking up stray clothing and setting them in the laundry basket as she went.
“Naru-chan stopped by this morning on her way to the market.” Her soft voice filtered through the thickness in Usagi’s ears, the tone she always used when filling someone in on a bit of news she’d heard somewhere. A tiny smile broke the edges of her frown, familiarity washing over her. “I would have let her come in except it was around ten and you still weren’t awake. Rei-chan and Ami-chan came by about an hour ago, too, but you were in the bathroom…”
The last comment was barely heard as she zoned out. The comforting warmth and weight in her hands was almost hypnotizing, drawing her down into the same pool of thought she’d been drowning in earlier. The girls had come by. She hadn’t shown at their precious meeting because of him, and now probably wanted to pump her for information. Rei had called on the communicator the next morning, having seen it on the news, and her tone had been anything but comforting. The priestess had all but yelled at her for going into battle without backup, let alone sick and weak. Well, it wasn’t like Usagi expected her friend to have any kind words for her to begin with, but given the circumstances it was a little bit harder to swallow her criticism.
Ami had actually come by the next day to check her over for injuries. Usagi hadn’t had the heart to tell her what all had happened, only that she’d jumped in without thinking and Tuxedo Kamen had come to the rescue. Even the genius had looked at her disapprovingly. Even sweet, wonderful Ami had been disappointed in her actions, no matter how brave or well meant they had been.
It was like they both looked down on her, like she couldn’t handle anything on her own. But she’d been the first Senshi, had fought without anyone there except Kamen for months before Ami transferred in. Didn’t that experience mean anything to the girls? Why did they constantly act like she never did anything right? Was she really so pathetic? Would it really be so awful if she were fighting alone –without even his help?
Could she ever be that strong?
“Mama!” the shrill voice of her younger brother shattered her thoughts, sending pins and needles dancing into her skull. She doubled up, clutching painfully at her head and trying to force breath into her lungs. The pain was horrible, compounded by his fast-pounding footsteps on the stairs.
“Shingo, you’re sister is sick! Keep it down!” her mother’s hoarse whisper meant nothing against the frantic breathing of the overly excited twelve-year-old. Usagi groaned into her pillow, wishing he would at least turn away from her room before the next outburst. Unfortunately, today was just not her lucky day.
“But the Senshi are on TV! Monsters attacked the downtown market and they’re throwin’ fireballs and stuff! Come see!”
The second their footsteps pounded down the stairs, a shuddering sob broke free from the huddled figure on the bed. The girls hadn’t even called her. Her communicator lay silent on the bedside table, conspicuously still in the afternoon sunlight. Her heart plummeted, knowing how angry they’d been with her for doing the exact same thing. So what was the difference?
What was the difference between her and them? What was the difference between her and Moon? Everyone saw her as weak, pathetic. Mamoru would do anything for Moon, but for Usagi? He couldn’t even stand to be around her without saying something horrible. And she would just take it, because she was weak. She would just take it.
Foggy blue eyes hardened dangerously toward the empty wall as she thought.
Yeah, she’d take it.
