Staples of Life
Prologue [Cursed Day]
By: Opal Soul
Disclaimer: Do you *think* I'm talented enough to own Sailor Moon?
It was Valentine's Day. And boy, did she hate that day. All those happy red and pink balloons floating in the air, attached to whimsical white strings; all those long-stemmed red roses; all those creamy, molded chocolates; all those cuddly teddy bears sporting bowties-- it just wasn't her style.
It wasn't that she never received valentines; in fact, she got more than what was probably her fair share. Her long, sunny blonde hair had a peculiar charm of its own, and the uniqueness of her hairstyle only added to it. Her big, sparkling blue eyes were hidden sometimes in a downcast gaze of creamy eyelids and smoky, natural eyelashes. She was very petite at 4'11", but her legs gave off the illusion of stretching from here to eternity.
She hated the cursed, blasted day because it always meant the same thing: her locker stuffed with misspelled love notes [Not that she could tell the difference, of course.], her desktop crowded with bouquets of hothouse flowers [She was allergic to daffodils, but the silly boys insisted on sending them to her, claiming them to be oh-so-fitting for her personality.], her seat obstructed with giant stuffed bunnies [Another ridiculous joke; one year, an admirer thought it cute to send Usagi her namesake... it was cute, but the fad got a bit annoying.], her lunchbox filled to overflowing with cutely-shaped chocolates [Finally, something practical.], and... and...
Chiba Mamoru teasing her.
"Did anybody give you odangoes this year, Usa-baka?" he taunted two years ago.
Freshly fourteen, barely 4'9", Usagi screeched and shook her fist at the self-assured high school sophomore*. "At least I got something, Minus Zero! Which is more than what I can say for you!"
And then he froze in the moment, his smile frosted before it could reach his mouth...
Usagi almost wished she could place the situation in reverse; although the handsome high school student leaning on the counter was much taller, well-muscled, and much smarter... she almost felt like a bully, like she had just kicked a soaked, crying dog with its tail between its legs. The image was hilarious; Mamoru, a furry dog? She laughed.
But the next year wasn't so amusing.
The entire Valentine's Day, Mamoru snuggled in a booth near the back, hidden partly by the shadows and letting the mysterious light reflect on his shiny black hair occasionally as he shifted. His black coffee was cold in the white mug. Not a perfect black strand of silken hair flew out of place when a blond whirlwind dashed by as quickly as the wind.
A couple seconds later, Usagi's nose was level to the coffee, sniffing. "Black? Yick! Only you, Minus Zero!"
Mamoru would have liked to answer with his usual witty comment... but he was momentarily occupied, sucking faces with the girl who flirted with him constantly in and out of school, a girl who aspired to be a lawyer, a girl who now drew away from her hard-won prize, breathing, "Oh, Mamoru! I... hey, who's that?"
Mamoru swiveled his head just in time to see two streamers of blond hair fleeing and storming in the direction of the Sailor V games. He smiled crookedly, "Oh, just some girl I know. Nothing to worry about, Saori.**" He waved his hand dismissingly.
Usagi was determined *not* to be dismissed, and this year, she would prove it. Amazingly calm and collected, she would brush past he and his precious, stupid girlfriend making out in the back booth. Astoundingly cold and harsh, she would give him steel for steel, clashing verbally with the mocking senior and drawing herself up to her full 4'11", unbreakable confidence written in every line of her sixteen-year-old body. Tantalizingly beautiful and gorgeous, she would bait him, lead him on, flirt with him... and drop him like the rotten, overripe fruit he was.
Provided, of course, that she didn't drown in his oceans of cynical blue eye.
Provided, of course, that his overpowering cologne didn't invade her senses too quickly.
Provided, of course, that the sight of him didn't send her slobbering, drooling, and driveling at his feet, bleeding heart palpitating before his scornful gaze.
It was going to be a long, terrible day. Boy, did she hate that day... almost as much as she hated loving Mamoru...
~~~*~~~*@ @*~~~*~~~
Copyrighted/Written: February 7, 2001.
AN: Not to worry, the ending has already been written. Although the chapters in between aren't quite ready, LOL. Anyway, hope to span this over the month of February. It's my Valentine's Day fic. "*"-- ah, yes, I closed the age gap between them. Just my... uhhh, authoress-prowess. "**"-- appeared in a Pegasus-type episode. I hate Saori, grrr... don't know why, just do. Anyway, I really do enjoy mail of all kinds, as long as the flames give me reasons for their hatred... hehehe, I *do* write back, just not necessarily right away... after all, school takes up most of life. o_O;; Flames, comments, and suggestions are VERY welcome at spots_goil@juno.com OR Dariens_Bunny@sailormoon.com.
Thanks to: my wonderful spell-check.
"If I am a jewel, as a dear friend once flirtatiously dubbed me, I am an opal. Fiery ice swirling in the milk-white of innocence. Passion and compassion. Myself to the core." Surprisingly enough, I wrote that. It's just to clarify any questions on my strange pen-name.
Prologue [Cursed Day]
By: Opal Soul
Disclaimer: Do you *think* I'm talented enough to own Sailor Moon?
It was Valentine's Day. And boy, did she hate that day. All those happy red and pink balloons floating in the air, attached to whimsical white strings; all those long-stemmed red roses; all those creamy, molded chocolates; all those cuddly teddy bears sporting bowties-- it just wasn't her style.
It wasn't that she never received valentines; in fact, she got more than what was probably her fair share. Her long, sunny blonde hair had a peculiar charm of its own, and the uniqueness of her hairstyle only added to it. Her big, sparkling blue eyes were hidden sometimes in a downcast gaze of creamy eyelids and smoky, natural eyelashes. She was very petite at 4'11", but her legs gave off the illusion of stretching from here to eternity.
She hated the cursed, blasted day because it always meant the same thing: her locker stuffed with misspelled love notes [Not that she could tell the difference, of course.], her desktop crowded with bouquets of hothouse flowers [She was allergic to daffodils, but the silly boys insisted on sending them to her, claiming them to be oh-so-fitting for her personality.], her seat obstructed with giant stuffed bunnies [Another ridiculous joke; one year, an admirer thought it cute to send Usagi her namesake... it was cute, but the fad got a bit annoying.], her lunchbox filled to overflowing with cutely-shaped chocolates [Finally, something practical.], and... and...
Chiba Mamoru teasing her.
"Did anybody give you odangoes this year, Usa-baka?" he taunted two years ago.
Freshly fourteen, barely 4'9", Usagi screeched and shook her fist at the self-assured high school sophomore*. "At least I got something, Minus Zero! Which is more than what I can say for you!"
And then he froze in the moment, his smile frosted before it could reach his mouth...
Usagi almost wished she could place the situation in reverse; although the handsome high school student leaning on the counter was much taller, well-muscled, and much smarter... she almost felt like a bully, like she had just kicked a soaked, crying dog with its tail between its legs. The image was hilarious; Mamoru, a furry dog? She laughed.
But the next year wasn't so amusing.
The entire Valentine's Day, Mamoru snuggled in a booth near the back, hidden partly by the shadows and letting the mysterious light reflect on his shiny black hair occasionally as he shifted. His black coffee was cold in the white mug. Not a perfect black strand of silken hair flew out of place when a blond whirlwind dashed by as quickly as the wind.
A couple seconds later, Usagi's nose was level to the coffee, sniffing. "Black? Yick! Only you, Minus Zero!"
Mamoru would have liked to answer with his usual witty comment... but he was momentarily occupied, sucking faces with the girl who flirted with him constantly in and out of school, a girl who aspired to be a lawyer, a girl who now drew away from her hard-won prize, breathing, "Oh, Mamoru! I... hey, who's that?"
Mamoru swiveled his head just in time to see two streamers of blond hair fleeing and storming in the direction of the Sailor V games. He smiled crookedly, "Oh, just some girl I know. Nothing to worry about, Saori.**" He waved his hand dismissingly.
Usagi was determined *not* to be dismissed, and this year, she would prove it. Amazingly calm and collected, she would brush past he and his precious, stupid girlfriend making out in the back booth. Astoundingly cold and harsh, she would give him steel for steel, clashing verbally with the mocking senior and drawing herself up to her full 4'11", unbreakable confidence written in every line of her sixteen-year-old body. Tantalizingly beautiful and gorgeous, she would bait him, lead him on, flirt with him... and drop him like the rotten, overripe fruit he was.
Provided, of course, that she didn't drown in his oceans of cynical blue eye.
Provided, of course, that his overpowering cologne didn't invade her senses too quickly.
Provided, of course, that the sight of him didn't send her slobbering, drooling, and driveling at his feet, bleeding heart palpitating before his scornful gaze.
It was going to be a long, terrible day. Boy, did she hate that day... almost as much as she hated loving Mamoru...
~~~*~~~*@ @*~~~*~~~
Copyrighted/Written: February 7, 2001.
AN: Not to worry, the ending has already been written. Although the chapters in between aren't quite ready, LOL. Anyway, hope to span this over the month of February. It's my Valentine's Day fic. "*"-- ah, yes, I closed the age gap between them. Just my... uhhh, authoress-prowess. "**"-- appeared in a Pegasus-type episode. I hate Saori, grrr... don't know why, just do. Anyway, I really do enjoy mail of all kinds, as long as the flames give me reasons for their hatred... hehehe, I *do* write back, just not necessarily right away... after all, school takes up most of life. o_O;; Flames, comments, and suggestions are VERY welcome at spots_goil@juno.com OR Dariens_Bunny@sailormoon.com.
Thanks to: my wonderful spell-check.
"If I am a jewel, as a dear friend once flirtatiously dubbed me, I am an opal. Fiery ice swirling in the milk-white of innocence. Passion and compassion. Myself to the core." Surprisingly enough, I wrote that. It's just to clarify any questions on my strange pen-name.