The Musings of Goddess Althena

“Thirty nine!”

Mamoru stares down at his receipt and wills the numbers to change. Unsurprisingly, they remain the same. He can transform into a superhero in the blink of an eye, but he can’t change a number on a piece of paper. It may be the caffeine withdrawal talking but this seems…unfair. Unjust. Unacceptable. He is a reincarnated prince, the rightful heir to the planet beneath his very feet, and yet he cannot get a simple cup of coffee.

“Thirty seven!”

Are they counting fucking backwards now? He takes a breath and stuffs the receipt in his pocket so he can run a hand through his hair. He needs to calm down. He’s just tired. He’s had another rough night of precious little sleep and this is just a bad morning. That’s all. One bad morning. At the end of a bad week. At the end of a bad month. He just—

“Forty!”

He just really needs some coffee. It’ll be ready soon. So long as they serve him in the next—he checks his watch—four minutes he can still make it to the hospital before his shift starts. He thinks. He’s only just started at UoT and he’s still not used to the bus transfers. Getting to Keio was much simpler. He didn’t have to get up so early, and the coffee shop across the street was much faster. Not to mention better. He misses that coffee. He misses Keio. He misses sleeping. He misses…a lot of things.

“Forty one!”

Lucky number forty one strolls up to the counter to claim their prize. They walk away with a tall plastic cup full of frothy green liquid that looks like it was poured directly out of an infected nostril, and Mamoru can’t help but shudder when they take a long, noisy sip from the straw. Who comes to a coffee shop and orders…whatever that is? This is apparently a trend now—ordering non-caffeinated beverages at coffee shops—because the last ten people who have walked away from the counter have had similarly ridiculous drinks. Why does everything have to be dessert, or snot, in a cup nowadays? What’s wrong with a regular cup of coffee?

He needs to find another coffee shop.

“Forty two!”

He needs them to call his number.

He pulls out his phone to distract himself and scrolls through a list of notifications: weather, junk mail, update reminders—up to forty five now, he’s got to get around to doing that—and one text. His thumb hovers over the blue bubble for a moment or two before he eventually presses down.

Training session Fri or Sat ppl. LMK work schedules ASAP. No ghosting Chiba. Ur old ass is getting rusty. 👴

As Mamoru rolls his eyes three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen. He holds his breath.

“Forty three!”

He doesn’t look away from those three little dots, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He just watches them, transfixed, until finally—

I’ve got a shift at the restaurant Friday night, but I can do AM Sat wide open

He releases the breath he’s been holding in a quiet sigh. Just Makoto. Not— His thumb hits the back button of its own accord then scrolls down through the list of chats, until…there, near the bottom. Sandwiched between an old banking verification and a number he doesn’t even recognize. He reads the date to the right of the name and winces. Again, his thumb hovers.

“Forty four!”

He taps. A string of texts populate his screen. He doesn’t need to read them again, he knows them by heart. But he reads them anyway. Like he always does. He can’t help it. He’s weak; in these moments at least. When no one can see. He should stop looking now. Should close the window. Should delete the whole thread while he’s at it. But he won’t. He can’t. He can do a lot of things—has done a lot of things—but he can’t delete those words.

I love you, Mamo-chan.

“Forty five!”

I’ll always love you. Even if you’ve stopped loving me back.

“Forty five!”

I wish I knew why though. I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.

“Forty five! That’s four five, people. Four five!”

I’m sorry, I get it now, I won’t bother you anymore. Be happy, Mamo-chan. I want you to be happy.

“For the last time, forty five! Going once, going twice…”

Mamoru’s head snaps up. Forty five. Fuck. That’s his number.

He stuffs his phone in his pocket and rushes up to the counter and beanie-boy does not look happy. Mamoru begins to mutter an apology then stops as the barista shoves a large mug topped whipped cream, caramel, and chocolate shavings toward him. Mamoru looks from the mug to the mouth-breather and back again as his brain tries to comprehend what is happening. After an eternity of waiting they finally called his number and yet…this is not his drink.

The barista is staring at him with a bored, somewhat vacant expression and Mamoru can clearly see that he is wondering why Mamoru isn’t taking the mug and walking away. Apparently the barista can’t tell from Mamoru’s assumedly apoplectic expression that he has no intention of taking the mug. This mug is not his. It’s not what he ordered. It’s not what he wants. Apparently that’s just his life now. An endless string of miserable disappointments that he’s supposed to suffer through silently. But he’s fed up with being silent.

He wants his damn coffee, and he wants it right fu—

“Oh, hello, uh, hey, sorry, excuse me but…I think that’s mine actually.”

Mamoru blinks as a cheerful man with sandy blond hair steps up beside him. He points to the confectionery concoction on the counter and shoots Mamoru an apologetic smile before turning to the barista. “Yes, chocolate macchiato with caramel, right? I believe that’s mine and not this gentleman’s.”

Beanie boy looks from Mamoru to sandy-hair and blinks.

Sandy-hair glances at Mamoru and shoots him another overly apologetic look. “Right, umm, well, if it’s all right, I’ll just grab this and get out of your way.” Mamoru steps to the side and sandy-hair takes the mug and hurries away. Presumably to overdose on sugar.

Mamoru turns back to the barista.

Barista scratches his temple. The beanie must be itchy. Mamoru hopes it is.

“So…what was your order again?”

“Large. Black. Coffee.”

“Right. That’ll take a couple of min—” Beanie boy must have just learned to read facial expressions because his eyes widen and he takes a step back. “I’ll go get it now.”

Mamoru feels a little bit of the tension ease in his shoulders and he breathes a weary sigh. He’s being an asshole. He’s doing that more and more often now. He keeps telling himself it’s the long work hours and the lack of sleep, but he knows what the real problem is. It’s her. He misses her. But there’s nothing he can do about that so he needs to find a better way to cope than being rude to baristas. And co-workers. And neighbours in his apartment building.

The barista comes back with his to-go cup and Mamoru tries to smile and thanks him for the drink. The guy nods but appears otherwise unaffected and that’s fine. Mamoru’s not looking for a new friend, he’s just trying to be a decent human being. A tinkle of bells sounds as he reaches for his cup. A gust of air follows, and a familiar tingle between his shoulder blades compels him to turn. He follows the innate instinct before his mind can warn him against it.

The unmistakable sight of blond odangos makes his heart soar before the inevitable sensation of crushing gloom comes down hard upon his ribs. Just when he thought his morning couldn’t get any worse. He can’t handle this. Not right now. Not again. He’s not strong enough to face another awkward meeting, another painful interaction, another agonizing opportunity to break her heart. Why are they always bumping into each other? Why, in a city as big as this, can he not get through one single week without running into her? Why?

Mamoru knows why. Because they’re soul mates.

He looks around for an alternate exit, a side door, a window, anything so he can avoid being seen. Before he can consider hiding in the bathroom he realizes she’s not approaching the counter where he stands, she’s rushing over to a table. She’s out of breath, her cheeks are pink, and she’s spouting a string of apologies. He’s seen her look exactly like this countless times before, and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as the memories replay.

His smile disappears as a new memory implants itself in his mind.

Of Usako, rushing up to a table where a man with sandy blond hair is standing in wait. Where a man with sandy blond hair is taking her hands. Where a man with sandy blond hair is pulling her forward. Kissing her cheek. Making her blush.

“Don’t worry,” sandy-hair says, “your timing is perfect. Your drink just came out. I wasn’t sure if you wanted a muffin, a danish, or a doughnut, so I got one of each.”

Usako laughs with delight.

Usako laughs with delight.

Usako laughs with delight.

Mamoru heads for the door like the building is on fire. He doesn’t hear the barista calling after him, telling him that he’s forgotten his coffee. He doesn’t hear the tinkling of bells as he shoves through the door or the loud rush of traffic as he hits the sidewalk. All he can hear is Usako’s laughter play over and over in his head.

When was the last time he heard her laugh? When?

Mamoru doesn't know when. He can’t remember.

***

Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you But ain’t nobody love you like I do Promise that I will not take it personal, baby If you’re moving on with someone new

***

Happy Birthday, Mamoru! Sorry bud, this is a breakup fic. What can I say? I both love and hate the breakup arc. The song that inspired this fic is Happier by Ed Sheeran.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Be sure to follow @usamamoweek for all of this year's content!

The eardrops were cold and hurt when they went in, but hopefully that meant they were working. And it was almost—almost—worth the pain if it meant he got to lie here in Usa's lap four times a day, head turned sideways so she could carefully drip the antibacterial medicine into his infected left ear. The instructions said to allow ten minutes for the drops to fully make their way into the canal and reach whatever microbes were causing his current miseries—swelling, hearing loss, fever, and a heavy malaise he couldn't shake. He hadn't had an appetite for days, and he worried about missing work despite Usagi's admonishment that he couldn't take care of other people if he didn't take care of himself first.

"You're a doctor. Aren't you supposed to know that?"

"Everyone knows doctors make terrible patients." The movement of his jaw from speaking spurred a bubble of pain in his ear, and he winced. "That's why we take care of other people instead."

Usa noticed his wincing and shushed him. "That's silly," she declared.

"That's just how it is."

"Ssssshhhhh! Stop talking. You're making it worse."

Usagi's bedside manner had an abrasive quality that he found hopelessly endearing, and he had to smile in spite of how lousy he felt.

By now she knew not to touch him anywhere near the back of his ear, so she did this other thing instead where she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. The warmth of her fingers there was the real medicine, a soothing caress that helped him relax as the eardrops slithered uncomfortably down his ear. She kept it up even after the discomfort passed, and more often that not, it was his undoing. The recommended ten minutes extended into twenty or thirty or forty minutes of much needed rest.

The first time he'd fallen asleep like that, he'd woken up to find the day turned into night, and Usagi was still there beneath him, sitting on the couch in the dark with nothing to do. Immediately he had felt bad, but when he tried to apologize, she shushed him like she did today, gently combing his hair back from his forehead in a precursor to the thing she did with his hair now. He had been worse then, at the peak of his fever and feeling like his ear might explode with the smallest provocation. Their bedroom had seemed farther than the moon, so Usagi brought the bedroom to him instead, dressing the couch with their comforter and a fresh, cool pillow. The determination in her eyes as she dragged the armchair over to the end of the couch nearest his head so she could spend the rest of the night beside him was a love he tried to deserve every day of his life. The next morning, he awoke to the muffled sound of her snoring and her hand dangling just a few inches from his. The pain was better and his fever had stopped climbing.

With his faithful nurse watching over him, he slowly got better, but he would miss this, these quiet stretches of time together—the quietest Usa had ever been, now that he thought about it—where nothing and no one else was allowed to demand his attention. He even mostly stopped feeling guilty about accepting her care.

Sleepily, he gave her knee a squeeze and murmured, "Thank you, Usako."

Her reply was muffled and unintelligible through his incapacitated ear. "What was that?"

"I said shut up already."

Mamoru smiles and rolls his eyes before stepping aside. "Happy to, but we're going to need another chair." Minako blinks when she notices the woman to his right. “Everyone, this is Yūki Tomoko.” Minako’s eyes zero in on his right hand which is currently hovering directly behind the small of Tomoko’s back. “She’ll be joining us tonight." Minako’s eyes narrow.

All other eyes at the table go wide and a thick, palpable silence descends over the group until a shrill, “Hi, Tomoko-san!” rings out from the back. Mamoru’s eyes fly to the face he’s been dreading/anticipating seeing all week long. Even from a distance he can tell that Usagi’s cheeks are visibly flushed, but that’s more than likely due to the three empty beer bottles in front of her and not the fact that he’s brought a mystery woman to one of their gatherings for the first time since they met. He tells himself that that’s fine. That bringing Tomoko here tonight isn’t about seeing how Usagi reacts.

He figures after downing three or so beers of his own that’ll be easier to believe.

“There’s a free chair over here!” Usagi bellows, waving one arm in a wide arc. Makoto catches the rogue limb with a deft hand before it can hit her in the face. “Let me just—” There’s a screech of metal on tile and about two seconds go by before Mamoru realizes what she’s about to do. He reaches Usagi just in time to stop her from going ass over teakettle when she heaves the empty chair up off the floor. Makoto has frozen halfway out of her seat and is giving him a look that is part astonishment, part admiration. Mamoru shoots her an awkward smile as he settles Usagi back into her chair.

“Oh em gee, she’s so pretty!” Usagi hisses in his ear in the loudest stage whisper known to man.

Mamoru can feel the heat flooding his own cheeks now, but he manages to nod even though all he can think is, ‘Nowhere near as pretty as you are.’

It’s not until he’s carrying the empty chair back to a waiting Tomoko that it occurs to him to wonder why there’s an empty chair at all. Someone must be missing. His brain catalogues all of the faces he’s seen in the time it takes to swing his head back in Usagi’s direction. Makoto’s on her right, Ami’s on her left, and the douchebag is nowhere to be seen.

***

Forty minutes later Mamoru’s still wondering where Usagi’s jag of a boyfriend is. The guy has been glued to her side for months now—four months to be precise—crashing one get-together after another, trying to insert himself into their tightly knit group, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone but Usagi sees him for the pompous gasbag that he is. Mamoru wants to ask someone—mainly Usagi—where the chode is tonight, but he hasn’t had a chance. Bringing Tomoko to their regular group night has caused quite the stir. An eventuality that he had counted on but is now regretting.

The group has been peppering her with questions ever since she sat down and Mamoru can’t get a word in edgewise. Tomoko is completely at ease amidst a sea of inquisitive strangers as he knew she would be. He’s seen her manage raving meth heads in the ER without breaking a sweat, so she’s more than capable of handling this crazy bunch. Tomoko is intelligent, but not pretentious, confident, but not arrogant, witty, but not sarcastic. She is the perfect plus one and Mamoru cannot wait for her to leave.

Tonight is not going at all how he’d planned.

Reika draws Tomoko into a discussion about Cairo—they’re both avid travellers—and Mamoru leans back in his chair and tries to feign interest while keeping his gaze from wandering down the table. He thinks he’s been doing a decent job of the former, not so much of the latter. It might be easier to focus if he didn’t find Usagi staring back at him every second glance. Makoto has cut her off and swapped her to soda but her cheeks are still rosy. He wants to go over there and talk to her but he can’t. Right? That would be rude.

Right?

“You’re staring.”

His gaze slides to the left. Minako is eyeballing him. He doesn’t care. “Where’s—”

“Twat-wad?” Minako answers before he can finish. Her gaze flits to Usagi. “Not here.” That’s all she offers. Hard to say if that’s all she knows. She glances at Tomoko who is laughing at something Motoki has said. “Your date is charming.”

“She’s not my date.”

“Does she know that?”

“Yes.”

Minako drops the side-eye and looks him full in the face. Mamoru holds her gaze. After a few beats she raises an eyebrow and leans back in her chair before turning her eyes to Usagi. “Hmm…” she hums. “Interesting.” That’s all she says, but Mamoru knows that’s not all she’s thinking.

***

Tomoko joins him at the bar twenty minutes later. “Now that is a chatty crew.” Mamoru offers her an apologetic look but she just laughs. “They’re really nice. I never would have guessed a nerd like you would have such cool friends.” This isn’t the first time he’s heard this, and he doesn’t really know what to say so he just shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. “I don’t get it though, I thought you brought me here to appease a jealous boyfriend. Where’s Mr. Insecure?”

“MIA, apparently,” Mamoru answers, stealing another glance at Usagi. She’s hugging Ami and trying to coax her into staying for one more round. Usagi knows Ami won’t stay because she’s got an early morning and she’s the most responsible one in their group, but she’s asking anyway because she knows it makes Ami feel loved. Usagi is amazing like that.

“Damn, you’re in deep. No wonder he’s jealous.”

Mamoru jerks to attention to find Tomoko studying him with wide, sympathetic eyes. He opens his mouth to speak then realizes there’s nothing he can say so he just sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Tomoko laughs and pats his arm. “I won’t tell you it gets easier because I know how much it sucks, but who knows? He didn’t show tonight. Maybe your luck is about to change.”

“I don’t believe in luck.”

“Well then, I guess you’re fucked.” Mamoru nearly spits out his beer. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then gives Tomoko a questioning look. She crosses her arms. “If you really don’t think luck is going to lend a hand, then you better stop watching from the sidelines and get in the game. You’ve brought me here to play defence when you should be on offence.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Offence?”

“Who cares if the boyfriend is jealous? It’s her attention you’re after,” Tomoko tells him, nodding her head at Usagi. “You want me to help you get it?”

They stand shoulder to shoulder as Mamoru considers her offer. Ami is finally parting from the group, but Usagi is insisting on walking her all the way to the door. Usagi never lets anyone leave without at least two goodbye hugs. Everyone complains about it but she never seems to care, and she always gets her hugs. No matter how much they grouse about it they all humour her. Because they love her. How could they not? She wears her heart on her sleeve. There’s not a false bone in her body.

Mamoru turns to the bar and sets his empty bottle on the polished wood. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in playing games.”

“Then why did you bring me?”

Mamoru sighs. “I told you. He doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m a threat.”

“Yeah, but why do you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t. I could care less what he thinks.”

“Then what—”

“He’s a jackass, but for some reason beyond my comprehension he seems to make her happy. Except for when he’s sulking like a petulant child.” Mamoru takes a breath and flattens his palms against the bar. “I didn’t bring you to spare his feelings, I brought you to spare hers.”

Tomoko lays a hand on top of his and quirks her mouth in a half smile. He tries to mirror the expression but his heart just isn’t in it. The harsh sound of shattering glass makes them both jump and whirl around. Usagi is standing in front of them and her feet are surrounded by shards of broken glass. She stares at the pair of them like a deer in the headlights for two, maybe three beats, then her face turns beet red and a string of barely intelligible apologies—and several curses—spout from her lips as she drops into a crouch. Mamoru and Tomoko cry out in unison when Usagi reaches for the glass, but they’re too late. The damage is done, blood is already seeping from her left palm, and everyone is springing into action.

A waiter is rushing up with a broom, Tomoko is asking the bartender for a first aid kit, and a chorus of voices are crying out in concern. Mamoru is only vaguely aware of all this though because ninety nine percent of his focus is on Usagi. He scoops her up from the floor and into his arms before she has time to fully register the injury. It seems like the natural thing to do; he doesn’t want her to step on any of the glass, and as he makes his way to the restrooms it simply never occurs to him to bother putting her down. It’s possible she’s protesting, but he’s too busy deflecting the group and telling Tomoko to bring the first aid kit to the ladies’ room to listen. It’s not until he gets inside and sets Usagi down on the counter next to the sink that Mamoru realizes how fast his heart is beating. He’s pretty sure it’s not because of the extra cardio.

He takes a breath and looks at Usagi. “Are you okay?”

She blinks up at him with those wide blue eyes of hers. “Yeah,” she says but her voice is shaky.

After a few more breaths he feels calm enough to take a look at her hand. The wound doesn’t seem very deep, he needs to clean it to be sure, but it doesn’t appear to need stitches. He raises his eyes to her pale face and shakes his head. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to touch broken glass?”

Usagi looks instantly repentant which makes him regret the gentle rebuke. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“What? Don’t apologize,” he tells her, reaching over to turn the faucet on, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I ruined your moment.”

The quiet comment throws him off balance and he shoots her a puzzled look. “What moment?”

Usagi peers up at him from beneath her lashes and Mamoru’s heart skips a beat, but his question goes unanswered because Tomoko arrives with the first aid kit. Mamoru sees Usagi’s immediate blush but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because there are more important things to focus on. He gets to work cleaning the wound. Tomoko offers to assist but makes no comment when he insists on tending to the injury himself. After they agree that stitches aren’t necessary—Usagi looks particularly relieved to hear this news—Mamoru dresses the wound. Usagi has been unusually quiet throughout. Mamoru chalks it up to shock.

“Looks like you’ve got this under control,” Tomoko says. Mamoru pretends not to notice the edge of amusement in her tone. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow so I’m going to take off.” She flashes Usagi a genuine smile. “It was nice to meet you, Usagi. Take care of that hand.”

Usagi nods and offers her a shy smile in return. “Nice to meet you too, Tomoko. I hope you’ll come again. I promise not to bleed next time.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Mamoru says dryly.

Usagi shoots him a quelling look. “Quiet, you.” Mamoru smiles.

Tomoko laughs at the pair of them then turns and heads for the door. She lifts her hand in a casual wave and calls, “See you at the hospital, Chiba,” without turning back, and then she’s gone.

It’s just the two of them again.

Usagi gazes at the bathroom door for several moments before turning her eyes to Mamoru. A faint blush lights her cheeks when she finds him watching her. This small reaction kindles a glow of warmth inside his chest.

“Tomoko seems really nice,” Usagi says. Her voice is soft and sweet and maybe just a little bit timid. It’s not like her to be shy.

“She is,” Mamoru agrees, taking a small step closer to her.

“And smart,” she adds, raising her chin to hold his gaze.

Mamoru nods and places his right hand on the edge of the counter a scant few inches next to her left thigh.

Usagi swallows. “And she’s a doctor.”

He smiles. “Yes, she is all of these things.”

“You two look good together.” Mamoru looks past her, to their reflection in the mirror. He knows he’s biased, but he thinks they look good together. He wonders what Usagi saw when she was watching him with Tomoko. What she was feeling. Was it anything like how he feels when he sees her with—

“Usagi, where’s Hideyo?”

Her smiles dims and she looks away. There’s an excruciating pause during which Mamoru holds his breath, and then Usagi says the three words he’s been longing to hear for four long months. “We broke up.” It takes every ounce of Mamoru’s considerable self control to swallow the whoop of delight that bubbles up in his throat. Usagi stares down at her bandaged hand and mumbles, “Don’t tell Minako. I’m not ready to hear ‘I told you so’ yet.”

It’s not easy to force his features into a sympathetic expression when he’s feeling nothing short of ecstatic, but Mamoru understands that this breakup must be painful for her so he focuses on that and the urge to dance a jig begins to fade. “What happened?” Translation: how did the asshat fuck it up again?

Usagi’s gaze flits to his face then back to her hand. “I don’t…really want to talk about it.”

“All right.” He doesn’t really want to talk about it either. Sayonara, shithead.

“I just…” Maybe she does want to talk about it. “I think I made a mistake getting back together with him, and I’m mad at myself for being so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Usagi.”

“No, just hopeless.”

The bitter reply hangs in the air between them, reminding Mamoru that if anyone in this bathroom is stupid, it’s him. He cups her shoulders in his hands and waits for her to look up before he speaks. “I should never have said that. I was out of line.”

Usagi shakes her head from side to side and leans forward into his grip just a little. “You were being honest with me, just like Minako was. That’s what real friends do. They tell each other the truth, even when it’s hard. I want you to keep telling me the truth.”

‘Okay, I love you.’

He gives her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Okay, I will.”

“Even when I don’t want to hear it?”

He nods. “Even when you don’t want to hear it.”

‘I hope you will though.’

“Good.”

Usagi smiles and Mamoru experiences a flash of perfect awareness. A window has opened. A perfect moment of opportunity, and there’s no telling how fleeting it might be. He’s had a number of chances like this before and he’s squandered each and every one of them. He promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. That when the time came, he’d be ready. The secret he’s long been harbouring unfurls in his chest and suddenly it’s too massive to contain. It rises up in his throat, sails along his tongue, and presses against his lips, begging to be set free.

“You’re a terrible singer.”

Usagi’s mouth drops open as Mamoru stares blankly into the mirror behind her head. A complete fucking moron wearing his face stares back at him. It’s unclear who, out of the three of them, is more shocked by what he’s just said.

“Shut up!” Usagi snaps, eyes sparking with indignation. She swats his chest with her uninjured hand for good measure. “I am not!”

Mamoru looks down at her and part of him wants to die. To just curl up into a ball right here and wait for death to claim him. But another part of him can’t help but notice how impossibly, unreasonably, irresistibly cute the girl in front of him is. That part of him thinks maybe it’s worth sticking around. You know, to see what she does next. He could go either way, but…

Usagi thrusts a self-righteous finger in his face. “I’ll have you know that some people really like my singing! I’ve been compared to Adele.”

Mamoru blinks. “Human people?”

“Shut up!” Usagi huffs as she hops down from the counter. “What do you know? Listening to you sing karaoke is like listening to an ox strangling a goat.” She sticks her nose up in the air and stomps off.

Mamoru stares after her in bafflement for a beat before jogging to catch up. He reaches the door and pulls it open in time for her to sweep through without missing a step. “An ox strangling a—what does that even mean?”

He’s gonna stick around. It’s definitely worth it. She’s definitely worth it. He wants to see what happens next. He’s got a good feeling that it’s going to be amazing. He can’t wait.

Today wasn’t the day. It wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t ready.

But he will be. One day soon, he will be.

***

Thanks again for reading! ❤️ NGL, three prompts was about three prompts more than I thought I'd write a week ago, but it's a welcome surprise.

Be sure to follow @usamamoweek for all of this year's content!

Minako waddles up to their table and drops down into one of the two empty seats with all the grace of a hippo.

“Beer we can do,” Makoto replies, sliding an open bottle down the table. “You’re on your own with the Vaseline.”

Minako catches the bottle and downs a hefty swig straight away before glancing at the vacant seat next to her. After scanning the assembled faces she curses and slams the bottle back down before reaching into her purse and digging out her phone. “I can’t believe she isn’t here yet. She fucking promised me…” She scrolls through a string of texts as glances are exchanged then chucks the phone on the table with a disgusted sigh. “She says she’ll be here in ten.”

“You’re half an hour late,” Motoki chides her. “Give Usagi a break.”

“I’m not pissed that she’s late,” Minako responds, wrapping her fingers around her beer bottle. “I’m pissed about why she’s late.”

“Why’s she late?” Makoto asks.

Minako glances at Rei, who raises her eyes to the ceiling before shrugging a shoulder. It’s unusual for Minako to appear hesitant, and while the subject of Usagi already has Mamoru on alert, he tenses when Minako’s gaze swings in his direction. Her eyes return to her phone before she announces, “She’s back with her ex.”

Mamoru almost chokes on his beer. Almost. He manages to swallow the mouthful, but it burns all the way down. A chorus of boos break out around the table. It’s possible someone even hisses. Hard to say. The roaring in his ears is making it a tad difficult to hear right now. But he wants to hear what everyone is saying, needs to hear it, so he ignores what’s going on inside him and focuses on what’s going on around him instead.

“I told her it was a terrible idea,” Minako says. “That there were at least a million better options out there,” her eyes slide to Mamoru during a subtle pause, “but she wouldn’t listen. I love her, but the girl is blind.”

“How did she even hook up with him again? I thought he went to Indonesia with the side piece.”

“No, it was Thailand.”

“I remember her saying India—”

“Who cares? The douchebag is obviously back. I thought Usagi was done with him.”

“People make mistakes. Maybe he’s learned from his.”

“Yeah right, Ami. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“Agreed,” Minako says, nodding at Makoto then finishing her beer. “People don’t change.” She pushes back her chair with a screech and sets the empty bottle on the table before standing. “I’m gonna need something stronger to get through tonight. Be right back.”

She heads for the bar and before he realizes what he’s doing, Mamoru is up out of his seat and hot on her heels. “What the fuck, Minako?” he utters in a low whisper moments after sidling up to her at the bar. “She’s back with—”

Minako silences him with a raised hand and orders several bottles of sake for the table from the bartender before whirling to face Mamoru, fire in her eyes. “I told you, didn’t I?” Mamoru rears back on his heels. “I told you to stop fucking around and ask her out, but you didn’t listen. Now look what’s happened. You’re both idiots.” Her scorching gaze moves past his face to a new target and he watches her scorn fizzle into disappointment. “Complete fucking idiots.”

Minako brushes past him as she leaves and he turns to call after her but the words die on his lips when he spots Usagi. He hasn’t seen her in nearly a month and the sight of her is like water to a thirsty man. She’s weaving her way through the crowded izakaya, making a valiant effort to reach their table without tripping and failing miserably. Were she a regular carbon based life form this would be a problem, but Usagi is made of rubber and sunshine—exact ratio to be determined—and is thankfully indestructible. She stumbles up to their table in one of her colourful outfits, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, hair mussed, and Mamoru’s heart can’t decide if it wants to shrivel or burst.

Back with her ex. How? When? Why?

A hand claps down on his shoulder and he drags his eyes away from the object of his affection/misery to look at Motoki. Mamoru hasn’t noticed his friend’s approach but the sympathetic expression on his face makes Mamoru queasy. “Tough break, bud,” Motoki says, giving his shoulder a consoling squeeze. “Told you not to wa—”

“Don’t say it,” Mamoru interjects through gritted teeth. His gaze travels back to Usagi just as she emerges from one of Makoto’s bear hugs. Her eyes meet his and light up in the way they always do, the way he’s convinced himself is unique to him. Now he’s not so sure. She smiles and waves and he lifts the half empty beer he forgot he was holding and nods, hoping he’s smiling back. Then, resisting the gravitational pull to fall into her orbit, he turns away and faces the bar.

Motoki turns with him. Probably out of solidarity. “By all accounts the guy is a total dick. My money says he’ll be out of the picture again soon.”

“Any guy who would dump Usagi is clearly a moron,” Mamoru concedes, “but it’s hard to believe anyone could be stupid enough to mess it up twice.”

“Sweet sentiment, but that’s the love goggles talking. Cynical, unbiased Mamoru knows exactly how stupid people can be.” Mamoru swallows a mouthful of beer and scoffs. Motoki pats him on the back. “Look, she’s giving the dude a second chance but he’ll blow it. Just make sure you don’t do the same when the window opens again.”

“Window,” Mamoru mutters. “It’s not like she had some bright neon sign on her forehead that said ‘Open for busi—’”

“Usagi!” Motoki exclaims, throwing his arms wide and jabbing Mamoru with a well placed elbow in the process. “Good to see you, kid. Get in here!”

Mamoru jerks upright and swivels around as Motoki enfolds Usagi in an enthusiastic hug. She squeals and giggles as he rears back and pulls her up off the ground. Mamoru isn’t jealous. He knows Motoki is like a brother to Usagi. He knows Motoki is in a committed relationship with Reika. He knows Motoki is just fucking with him now because any hug longer than five seconds is excessive.

Usagi’s feet return to the floor and Mamoru eases his grip on his beer bottle. Motoki says he’s heading back to the table and throws a playful wink over his shoulder that only Mamoru sees. It’s not until Usagi asks, “What’s wrong?” that Mamoru realizes he is scowling.

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head to reset his brain, “nothing. Hi.” He smiles and she smiles back and for a moment he forgets everything that has occurred in the last ten minutes and he can relax. Then the moment passes and he remembers and things get awkward. “How…are you?”

Usagi quirks her head and squinches her right eye during his lengthy pause but makes no comment on it. “I’m good,” she answers, her tone chipper. “How about you?” She nods to his beer. “Finally got a night off?”

He’s been on surgical rotation the past couple months so he’s been working a lot of nights, but he’s on to peds now, so he’s getting reacquainted with seeing the sun and sleeping in his own bed again. He’d even been flirting with the possibility of doing other activities in said bed with the diminutive blond standing in front of him until Minako dropped her bombshell and destroyed his hopes. So yeah, he’s got the night off, but fat lot of good that’s doing him.

Usagi is still waiting for him to answer. He takes a sip of beer because his mouth has gone dry and finally says, “Yup.”

She gives him an odd look, which makes perfect sense because he’s not himself right now and he’s incapable of hiding that fact. “Right,” she says, stuffing her hands into the tiny pockets of her bright pink polka dot shorts and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Well…good. I’m gonna head back to the table. Meet you th—”

“I hear you’re back with your ex.” Mamoru doesn’t mean to say it. It just kind of…spews forth from his lips. Like vomit. Funnily enough the sentence leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Also like vomit.

Usagi can’t hide her surprise. He’s never known her to have much of a poker face, and her eyes dart to Minako for a moment before returning to him. “Yeah…I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” She looks a little sheepish when she admits it, which makes him feel like an asshole. It also makes him feel irrationally angry because she shouldn’t be ashamed to be with someone. She should be proud, excited, over the moon. He should say something positive. They’re friends, and friends are supposed to encourage each other, even when they’re internally seething with jealousy and regret.

“How did this happen?” Not quite the positive statement he was going for, but it’s a good deal better than the majority of thoughts running through his head at the moment.

She looks down at her shoes—which are also polka dotted—and hunches her shoulders. “Oh, well, I guess he, umm, texted me a couple weeks ago. Said he wanted to talk, so we met for coffee…” She’s looking everywhere but his face now and Mamoru’s too focused on what she’s saying to question why she won’t look him in the eye. “One thing led to another…you know how it goes.”

Mamoru doesn’t know. Not in the slightest. He can count the number of exes he has on one hand and what’s more he can barely remember their names. He doesn’t have time for dating. Scratch that. He doesn’t make time for dating, but if he did he wouldn’t waste it on someone whose name he couldn’t even remember. And certainly not on someone who had betrayed him.

“Mmhmm…” is all he can manage to get out in reply. It’s hard to talk when he’s clenching his teeth so tightly.

Usagi’s gaze flicks up to his face before she turns to look at their table. The group is chatting and laughing together. Mamoru wishes he was over there instead. He wishes he was working tonight. He wishes he wasn’t such a coward. Minako looks up from the table and sees the two of them together. Her expression darkens. Both he and Usagi look away at the same time, and Mamoru wonders if they both saw something they didn’t like in that assessing blue gaze.

Usagi sighs and pulls her hands out of her pockets then stares down at them. “I’m guessing you know this already, but Minako thinks I’m making a mistake. She says I’m being naïve, that people can’t change.” When she finally looks up and meets his gaze her eyes are full of uncertainty. “What do you think?”

‘I think you should dump him and go out with me.’

If Mamoru had even an ounce of courage in his body—either liquid or real—he would say that out loud. Instead, as has been the case so many times over the past year, he plays it safe. “I think you have a very big heart and he’s lucky to have you.”

When Usagi says nothing for several long beats Mamoru tries to read her expression. Her lower lip pulls in the slightest amount, almost like she’s about to bite it and something flickers in her eyes. He wants to believe it’s disappointment, but Motoki would say that’s just the love goggles blinding him. Eventually her mouth twists up in a smirk and she pivots next to him and bumps him with her hip. Because of their height difference it hits him mid thigh. “Nice dodge.”

Mamoru forces a laugh and clutches his beer to his chest to keep himself from wrapping his arm around her and never letting go. “A year ago you told me you were a hopeless romantic. I guess it’s true.” The comment is meant to be playful, but as soon as he says it he knows it sounds like a judgement. Because it is.

Judging by Usagi’s flinch, she knows it too.

She steps away and when she looks at him with a bruised expression Mamoru wants to sink into the floor. “Maybe it was,” she says, “but not anymore. I believe people can grow if they really want to. I think that makes me hopeful, not hopeless. Sometimes you have to be willing to take a chance in order to be happy. ‘Fortune favours the bold’ so I’m gonna be bold.” She dips her head and starts to head back to the table before turning back and offering him a smile that doesn’t fully reach her eyes. “It’s good to see you, Mamoru. I missed you.”

***

Wanna read more? Ch. 3

Thanks again for reading! ❤️ I have no clue how many pieces are in this puzzle (or how they all fit together for that matter) but I'm excited to find out. 😅

Be sure to follow @usamamoweek for all of this year's content!

***

Day 9821 BU (Before Usagi)/Day 1 AU (After Usagi)

“I know, I know! I’m late, but you would not believe the day I’ve had. The magazine had me do, like, a thousand different poses. I swear, at one point the photographer was right up my asshole. I finally looked at Masami and said, ‘Is this a photo shoot or a fucking colonoscopy?’ Thank God I waxed!”

Minako sweeps up to their table, dumps her gigantic orange designer purse dangerously close to several drinks, and breathes a dramatic sigh. Her indisputably conspicuous arrival earns her a few cursory nods and a handful of waves. As far as entrances go, this is rather tame for Minako, and the table’s occupants have long since grown accustomed to her dramatic flair. It’s not until she snags a dumpling from the nearest plate that she garners any true notice.

Rei looks up with an angry scowl. “Hands off!”

Minako, who has already stuffed the entire dumpling into her mouth, closes her eyes and lets out an obscene moan between chews. “I haven’t eaten in twenty four hours,” she declares, reaching for another dumpling. Rei, who is clearly unsympathetic to her plight, slaps her hand away.

Makoto laughs from a few seats down the table and gestures to a nearby waiter. “Stop that before you lose a hand! You know how Rei is about sharing food.”

Minako looks down at Rei and mutters, “Stingy bitch,” before leaning forward and capturing her lips in a swift but fierce kiss. When she straightens up Rei still looks annoyed but her cheeks are noticeably flushed. Again, this behaviour is par for the course and few take notice. It’s not until Minako stuffs a finger and a thumb in her mouth and blows out a sharp whistle that heads finally turn. Only Ami has the grace to apologize to the waiter who has just arrived, but the woman waves her off. The staff are also used to Minako by now…and Makoto is good friends with the owner.

“Listen up, everyone!” Minako announces, producing a petite blonde out of seemingly nowhere. “This is Usagi! She’s just been dumped by her twat-wad of a boyfriend, and I’ve promised to get her drunk enough to forget he ever existed. Let’s make her feel welcome!”

There’s a chorus of much friendlier greetings for this new, unexpected arrival and as Minako goes around the table introducing everyone, the girl under her arm blushes and smiles and laughs as though she is absolutely delighted to be there. As though she’s completely at ease meeting a group of strangers. As though she doesn’t have a care in the world. Which can’t be the case if what Minako has just said is true. And yet, how can such a brilliant smile, such musical laughter, such sparkling eyes be anything but genuine?

“And this tall drink of water is Chiba Mamoru. Don’t let his looks fool you, he’s a total nerd.”

He’s heard his name, he knows this is his cue to say hello, but as soon as those big blue eyes land on him, Mamoru is struck momentarily dumb. Usagi smiles and appears unfazed by his sudden lapse. Whether she’s oblivious or just being polite is anyone’s guess, but the moment drags on long enough for others to take notice. The instant Minako’s gaze sharpens and her mouth curves in a cunning smirk, Mamoru knows he’s in trouble.

Minako pulls out the only free chair at the table with one arm and ushers Usagi into it with the other. “Mamoru, be a doll and get Usagi a drink while I go hunt down another chair.” She’s gone in a flash of blond hair and a clack of stiletto heels and Mamoru is left alone with the angel seated to his left. Well, not technically alone. There are still five other people there. Or at least there were. He’s not sure anymore.

When Usagi scoots forward in her chair and their knees brush beneath the table Mamoru wonders for a moment if he’s having a stroke. He’s trying to remember how to know for sure—troubling given the fact that he’s a doctor—when Usagi’s nose crinkles in an adorable smile and she extends her hand. “Tsukino Usagi. Photography assistant, recent dumpee, and hopeless romantic. Pleased to meet you, Chiba-san.”

Much to his surprise, Mamoru finds himself able to smile, raise a hand, and string several intelligible words together. “The pleasure is mine, Tsukino-san. Please, call me Mamoru.” He’s not sure what pleases him more: knowing he is not, indeed, having a stroke, or being able to interact with the beautiful woman next to him like a functioning human being. Before he can get too cocksure, he takes her hand and a bolt of lightning jolts up his arm. Metaphorically speaking. He thinks.

Usagi beams and gives his tingling hand an enthusiastic squeeze before letting go. From what Mamoru can tell, she is not likewise affected. He should be relieved. Strangely, he is not. “Only if you call me Usagi,” she replies, flashing a set of brilliant white teeth. The eye tooth on her left side is slightly crooked. He doesn’t know why but he finds that incredibly charming.

Mamoru smiles, much wider than he ever does. So wide his cheeks actually hurt a little. It feels strange but in a good way. “It’s a deal,” he says. “So, Usagi,” her name slips off his tongue like he’s said it a thousand times and he realizes he wants to say it at least a thousand times more, “what’s your poison?” Usagi’s eyes twinkle with delight and he knows he wants to see them do that at least a million times more.

A chair slams down on the floor to Usagi’s left, startling them both. Minako slings an arm around Usagi’s shoulders and flashes Mamoru a saucy wink. “What are we waiting for? Let’s drink!”

***

Wanna read more? Ch. 2

Thanks for reading! ❤️ I'm flying by the seat of my pants this year, so all bets (and betas) are off. 😅

Be sure to follow @usamamoweek for all of this year's content!