It was no secret that Usagi Tsukino was never much of a spy. She was a bit too clumsy, a smidge too loud, and a tad too impatient. All three of these were becoming a problem as she struggled to stay crouched low to the ground, leaning forward from under the table at the very back of the diner.
One would think that several years of battling invading dark forces might require some form of discipline and physical fitness, but with every second she stayed crouched to the ground, her thigh muscles came closer and closer to giving out. Tears were beginning to collect at the bottoms of her eyes, and Usagi was one of those unfortunate cases who could hardly stop a flow of tears, nor their unnaturally loud connection to her mouth.
Usagi was also one of those unfortunate cases to whom ideas hardly came naturally, and when they did, they were often more related to romancing men into dating her friends, what form of dessert she would like to have for a snack, and some sort of date she might enjoy with Mamoru.
The thought that occurred to her as her tears struggled to create more room for themselves on her eyelids was a rare exception to her typical ideation. She could easily escape this situation without causing her muscles any further agony. All she had to do was let her nosiness rest for the night, allow her dear friends their privacy on what had to be a casual dinner date, and steal away through the restaurant's back door. Surely, Haruka and Michiru had future dates planned, during which she could more efficiently snoop.
Usagi decided that she like this idea. She crawled her way out from under the table and rested her hand on the booth's seat, with the intention of using it as leverage to stand. She swiveled her head to the left for one last glimpse at the beautiful couple. Michiru had her chopsticks poised elegantly over her food. Usagi registered vaguely that perhaps she could ask Michiru for a lesson on how to simultaneously hold utensils over food and not appear fat, unsightly or rude.
Haruka, on the other hand, was shuffling through what appeared to be a-
"IS THAT A PURSE?!"
The two girls she had been studying swerved their heads abruptly to look at her.
"Oh, hello, Usagi-chan," Michiru greeted her, the repressed giggle evident in her eyes.
"Oh, hey," Usagi replied, mock casually. She approached their booth.
"What are you doing here, today?" asked her aqua-haired friend.
"Well, I…," Usagi fished for a reply. Infiltrating their date was not something she felt particularly proud of.
"Are you alright, Haruka-san?"
"… It is not a purse," was all she said, her tone defiant, and her eyebrows beginning to crease.
"Oh, please," Michiru said in a tone that could almost be considered snorting, if she were not so elegant that snorting was improbable of her.
"It is a container."
Usagi stared blankly at her.
"It's a cute bag. What are you talking about?"
"No, it is not a bag. It is not a bag, purse or a satchel. It is a container," she insisted.
"You're so ridiculous," Michiru remarked, appearing simultaneously poised and annoyed. She turned to her smaller friend with a frustrated sigh, "She absolutely refuses to call it a purse."
"That's because it is not a purse! It is simply a convenient way of lugging around feminine products, pens, a phonebook, things of that nature. It contains my belongings!"
"But it's cute!" Usagi interjected excitedly, "It's cute, and girly, and nice!"
"I never said it wasn't a nice container. What makes you think I do not like my container? There was a reason that I was so inclined to buy it. I like the color."
"Goodness," Michiru rolled her eyes and looked at Usagi desparately, "We were arguing about this all last night."
"Are these the kind of fights you guys have?" Usagi asked, dumbfounded. It was just inconceivable. She liked to think that she was mature, but reality, and her friends, for that matter, begged to differ. Usagi would start a fight over a fashion accessory. She would probably insist that an object be called by the wrong name, if she believed the false name to be correct, against all evidence.
Haruka-san and Michiru-san, however; they were just so… sophisticated.
"Unfortunately, yes. These kinds of fights, and the ones that occur when a certain someone takes my key with her, so I can't leave the apartment to pick up her anniversary gift on time."
"I didn't mean to take your key! You left it in the container!"Haruka countered defensively.
"It is not a container!" Michiru retorted in an indignantly hushed voice.
"What do you want me to call it? A satchel? I would call it a satchel over calling it a purse any day!" Haruka suggested.
"Haruka, please, the thing does not even resemble a satchel," Michiru scoffed.
"Which is precisely the reason why I have christened it 'the container,'" the fair-haired woman reasoned with amazing and unwavering conviction.
Usagi was by no means an expert problem solver, nor was she especially apt at problem recognition. This issue, however, was unavoidably obvious, and her Sailor Moon nature was starting to kick in. The heroine in her could hardly stand her ground and watch as a loving relationship fell to pieces over the quirky dubbing of an item carrier. No, today was not the day that Tsukino Usagi would become an observer. She absolutely refused.
"Guys. Stop fighting. Now."
Haruka looked at Usagi with a coolly annoyed countenance. Michiru huffed in an irked, yet classy manner, then turned to her friend.
"Yes?" They acknowledged her begrudgingly.
"You, Haruka-san, you are smarter than this. I don't know how to say this in a polite way, but you are not a man. You can carry a purse. Besides, you have seemed more feminine lately. There is no shame in being a girl or cute or anything like that. And you, Michiru-san; shouldn't you just be happy that she is carrying a bag, no matter what she may call it? It means you have had some kind of effect on her."
The blonde lowered herself to a position that was almost slouching, if such an action could appear less mangy. The other woman shifted in an almost uncomfortable fashion. Now, it was just a matter of who caved first.
It was then that Haruka mumbled something under her breath.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Usagi demanded sternly.
"I said I'm sorry for being so immature. I just do not feel comfortable referring to it as something so… female-like."
"But you are a girl, silly," said Michiru with a smile, "Nonetheless, it's a lovely container, and it is refreshing to see you even slightly embrace something so maidenly."
Usagi smiled widely.
"Well, my job here is done. Enjoy your date you two, and I will see you later," she said proudly.
"Usagi-chan, what were you doing here?" Haruka asked, curiously amused.
"Um, that's a story for another time. Bye!" Usagi giggled awkwardly, then dashed out the restaurant door, as her two friends turned back to their meal.
Peace, love and order were restored, and as far as Usagi was concerned, her work was completed.