Sailor Scribbles

“Maybe it's a gift!”

That seemed possible. Just last weekend, Mamoru turned a nice round 20 years of age. The official age of adulthood according to Japan. He celebrated appropriately – a night out with friends from college, punctuated with a special surprise when he came home… Usagi wrapped in a bow.

It was a good birthday.

But who else would be sending him something this late?

Mamoru pulled off the twine and started to unwrap it as Usagi looked on curiously. The box seemed oddly scuffed, but ignoring that he pried open the top.

They were photos. Just an huge cache of photos – loose, mostly candid Polaroids, a couple of framed ones as well. Mamoru turned the box over on the table to look at them. As he spread the contents out, he noticed a small envelope along with them.

“They're all of this man and his son.” Usagi had picked up a handful of photos and was flipping through them. And she was right, they were mostly of a dark-haired man and a boy, smiling and waving at the camera. But something tugged at Mamoru's mind as he stared at them. A stack of family photos addressed to him…

“Hey, Mamo-chan, he kinda looks like…” She trailed off, looking from the photos to Mamoru and back again. The unsaid implication hung in the air.

He had already realized it as well. The man looked familiar. The shape of his face, the color of his eyes… were very much like Mamoru's.

“Dad?”

~~~

Mamoru didn't know how long they sat there, slowly sorting through the pictures. Neither he nor Usagi said a thing. Before today he had no photos of his parents. Growing up at the children's welfare center, he had the same as everyone else: food, clothes, and roof over his head. Not much else. Not even memories.

It wasn't until he was old enough to leave the center that he was confronted by an attorney, who told him about the Chiba inheritance. The woman said that, coupled with the insurance money, the accounts had been handled by a private party and kept safe for the day Mamoru turned fifteen. She assured him that he would be well taken care of: an apartment in Tokyo and already registered to attend the prestigious Azabu High next spring. Besides a few assets that were locked away until he was an adult, the rest of the money was his to do as he pleased.

But it was the first item she handed to him that was the most important: a simple one-page family registry, his parents' names typed out neatly on the sheet:

Father: Chiba Ishiei Mother: Chiba Hiyo.

For nearly five years that was all he needed. Mamoru kept it tucked away in a book among many on his shelf, away from prying eyes. After confronting his visions and meeting Usagi, there was never any question about what he left behind.

Until today.

Now his past was laid bare on this small kitchen table. There were so many photos. All of them were of Mamoru and Ishiei – or should I call him Dad he wondered – doing various things. Going to the park, attending a festival, Mamoru's first steps…

He didn't remember any of it.

Mamoru took a closer look at the mailing box, which he now noticed was much older than he first thought. The cardboard was scuffed and scraped, like it had been shipped many times. Various postmarks were stamped all around it, overlapping once there was no room left. He ran his finger over the faded ink. Okinawa, Honolulu, London, New York, Paris… He could just barely make out the full name of the package's original recipient: Chiba Hiyo. His mother's name.

If these photos were his mother's, then who sent them to Mamoru?

His gaze fell on the little yellow envelope that had tumbled out of the box with the pictures. It looked newer than the rest, crisp and bright. Blank.

A sudden panic clenched his heart. Mamoru was six again, waking up alone and confused. Who was he? Did anybody know? For nearly a decade he had waited in that facility for someone to remember him. And only now was there a response. A distant relative? A stranger? Weren't those both the same thing at this point? An unknown person who knew more about Mamoru's childhood than he did.

Was he afraid?

Before he could be overwhelmed, a gentle warmth enveloped Mamoru from behind.

“Mamo-chan. I'm here with you.”

Usagi had at some point gotten up to embrace him, her arms wrapping protectively around his shoulders. Cradled to her chest like this, he softened as her heartbeat steadied his own.

Mamoru reached up for one of her hands, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. He didn't trust himself to speak yet, but hoped that was enough to tell her how much it meant to him. With his other hand, Mamoru finally picked up the envelope and opened it.

Inside was a letter. He read it silently as Usagi looked over his shoulder, still keeping him in her arms.

Chiba Mamoru

These belong to you. I think it's about time for both of us to have closure. If you'd like to meet, I'll be waiting at Cafe Toujour, August 30th at 3pm. This will be last and only time.

Your benefactor, Kusaka Toshie

It was short, almost terse.

“Kusaka Toshie…” Mamoru repeated the name under his breath. It didn't ring any bells.

“Do you know him?” she asked softly.

“I don't recognize it but…”

He remembered what that attorney had said those five years ago. “A private party” had handled Mamoru's funds while he was at the welfare home. Was it this Kusaka person?

“….it's complicated,” Mamoru sighed. His brain was exhausted from running in circles. It wasn't that he didn't want to share this with her, but Mamoru himself didn't understand that part of his life very well. Somehow, it seemed a lot scarier than fighting aliens or evil. At least he had practice with that.

Usagi didn't press it, instead kissing the top of his head comfortingly. She picked up one of the photos and smiled at the scene: Ishiei giving toddler Mamoru a piggyback ride.

“You look really happy in these.”

She held him closer as he kissed her hand again.

What to do about the letter could wait until tomorrow.