BAD MEMORIES
Chapter 4: "A Venture Into The Past"
A Sailor Moon fanfic

By Bill K.


At the doctor's office he shared, Mamoru entered for the day's work. As usual, Ami was there preparing for the day. She was always the first one there. It had taken Chiyo, their new receptionist, several weeks to get used to the always punctual and hyper-efficient Ami Mizuno. At one point, Mamoru had overheard the woman talking with a friend over the phone, wondering if Ami were actually a machine.

"Good morning Mamoru," Ami said pleasantly. Mamoru also got the impression that Ami was phenomenally grateful for his bringing her into partnership with him. It led him to wonder how much Ami had hated life at the hospital.

"Good morning, Ami," Mamoru nodded. "Usagi says 'hi'."

"Have you had any further memory recurrences?"

"No. Nothing more has come. It even took me a few minutes to remember that my father's name was Hotaro for Luna's computer inquiry."

"Dizzy spells? Blackouts? Fainting?"

"No, no and no," Mamoru sighed. He didn't like talking about that recurrent part of his life. "So, are you a trained hypnotist yet?"

Ami grimaced. "I've come to the conclusion that hypnotic memory regression wouldn't be a practical solution."

"How so?"

"Study results are too inconclusive concerning the therapy's effectiveness," Ami outlined. "And the danger of implanting false memories is too great."

"Well, thank you for looking into it just the same," Mamoru replied. He tried to put up a brave front, but Ami could see the news was a disappointment.

"Please don't give up, Mamoru," Ami encouraged him. "There are other means of restoring these memories. The fact that a random act triggered one memory would indicate that others can be triggered in the same manner."

"But what's the trigger?"

"Memory association differs from person to person and from memory to memory," Ami replied. "It would be statistically improbable to guess what the specific trigger is for particular memories." She thought for a moment. "I would suggest that you return to familiar surroundings linked to the time you're trying to recall. The familiarity of a neighborhood, a house, or a yard might be the trigger you're looking for."

"To do that, I'd have to remember where I lived as a boy," Mamoru sighed. Ami came over.

"You may also have to accept that these memories are gone forever," she warned him. "Many memories from newborn to approximately four or five years fade over time. Nearly all memories prior to age three disappear, probably written over by the brain. What you're seeking to recall may no longer be there."

"But I remember the crash as clear as day," Mamoru replied. "Going over the embankment, the front seat rushing up and slamming me in the head as the car crumpled on impact. The heat of the fire."

Suddenly he stopped. Ami looked at him curiously.

"Have you recalled something else?" Ami asked him.

"No," Mamoru replied, distracted. "But I just realized something. The EMT's said I was thrown clear of the crash. But I remember being belted into the back seat - - the front seat pushed up against the bottom of my feet."

"Someone else was there," Ami deduced. "They clearly pulled you from the car and then fled."


The middle school athletic field was filled with young men and women heading outside on lunch break. It didn't matter that it was January and cold. Anything was better than the prison of middle school. Outside the halls of learning, they could be free to be themselves. As much, of course, as their matching uniforms and the watchful supervision of the faculty allowed.

After a time, the students began to collect more and more at the chain link fence separating the school grounds from the track and field oval. A buzz of excitement had passed through the aimless students, attracting them to the track like iron filings to a magnet.

"Look at him go," marveled one boy.

"He's fast," another judged. "Faster than Ikuro."

"What's he doing here?" a third wondered.

The growing crowd had begun to pair off into the usual cliques, boys with boys and girls with girls.

"He's so handsome," whispered one girl.

"Look at his focus," another judged. "He's so intense."

"I wonder who he is?" a third wondered.

Nobody recognized the adult running around the track in a nondescript blue nylon track suit. They hadn't seen the running style, so athletic and vibrant. They didn't place the ease of motion demonstrated, nor could they acknowledge the practiced stride or the experienced movement. The cold January air blew sandy blonde hair across deep blue eyes focused on a goal none of them could see. The boys could only aspire to be like this superior athlete. The girls could only dream of touching this Earth-bound Hermes.

"Hey!" one late-comer to the throng exclaimed. "That's Haruka Tenoh! The race car driver!" A collective gasp of surprise rose up from the assembled.

Haruka heard none of it. She was intent upon one thing, focused solely on the finish line. Her thoughts were calculations of when to turn, how fast to go, how long to pace. Her focus was coaxing every last ounce of performance from her body, for she had the need. Running solved that need, as did racing. That need to get somewhere as fast as possible, for that anonymous somewhere had to be better than where she was.

Her final kick shot Haruka toward the finish line. Instinctively she leaned forward, as she had so many times during her younger days, leaning forward to steal a fraction of a second and take the tape. She eased to a stop on the asphalt and cinder track, her thighs burning and her lungs knifed from the cold air. And she heard applause. Turning quizzically, Haruka found several dozen middle school students watching on the other side of the fence, applauding her efforts. Ill at ease, Haruka waved at them, then hastily headed for the exit. It was time to head home. She wanted to run more, to erase more of the bad memories of her latest confrontation with her parents. But Haruka had learned years ago not to push her finely crafted instrument too far, lest she go beyond its physical limits and break down.

When she was out of sight, the students began to head back to class. They buzzed among themselves, still marveling at Haruka's prowess on the track or over how her perfect form would be in more than one dream this night. And in the mind of one anonymous girl, tormented by feelings and desires she didn't understand and couldn't make conform to the social norm, Haruka became a symbol of there being light at the end of the tunnel.


Rei sat at her computer, a cup of tea in one hand, surveying the news. She had long since conceded that news sites on the internet were just as convenient as an actual printed newspaper. Even more convenient, since she didn't have to go out and buy one. And she had long since gotten over the embarrassment of Akira-Sensei telling her that there were actually sites on the internet for something other than children's games and pornography. Sometimes being traditional was a source of embarrassment, though the positives outweighed the negatives in her mind.

To her surprise, a sports story was among the items on the front page.

"Derek Johnson, former outfielder with the Yomiyuri Giants," she read, "has resigned with the club and will be in uniform for the 2010 season. Johnson-San, leading hitter on the 2006 Championship Giants team, states he is happy to return and will work hard to bring another championship to the loyal Yomiyuri fans."

"So he's actually coming over," Rei mused. Then her nerves began to tighten through her body. "What if he visits the shrine? What will I say to him? Have I found it in my heart to forgive him?"

The memory was still as clear as day to her. Standing in the hall of the hotel outside of Derek's room, wanting to surprise him. The joy she felt seeing him open the door, only to have it erupt in smoke and flame when she read him and realized that he had another woman in the room. The anger had long since dissipated, but the hurt remained.

"Maybe he won't visit," Rei said, almost as a prayer to the gods as anything.


Mamoru came home to find Usagi sitting at the kitchen table, peering over Luna's shoulder. Luna was at her laptop, looking at a file being downloaded from Artemis. He came over and kissed Usagi on the cheek.

"Welcome home, Mamo-Chan," she mumbled, staring intently at the screen.

"When you didn't pick me up, I wondered if something had happened here," Mamoru told her.

"I'm sorry for not picking you up, Mamo-Chan," Usagi said, distracted. Mamoru gazed at the screen. It was a historical profile of someone.

"That's all right," he said, patting her shoulder. "Deadlines done for today?"

"Yes."

"Dinner?"

"Staying warm in the oven."

"I'm impressed," he remarked. "What's so important on the computer screen?"

Luna answered before Usagi could. "It's a compilation of all the information Artemis and I were able to gather on your father and mother. It will take a few more minutes to download. Please be patient, Mamoru."

"Well thank you in advance, Luna," Mamoru told her. "You didn't happen to run across any pictures, did you?"

"That's part of what's taking so long to download," Luna answered.

Mamoru nodded. "So, heard anything from your publisher yet, Usako?"

Usagi deflated. "Today. They still don't want to publish it." She flopped back on her chair. "Maybe I should just shelve it and try something else. Vampires are popular. Maybe I should do a vampire story."

"Yes, and I can see you giving yourself nightmares, too," Mamoru chuckled.

"Or I could do a magical girl manga," Usagi proposed. "She stumbles onto a magical girl academy where she makes a lot of friends and they have to defend the academy against renegade magical girls led by a wicked queen."

"And what were you going to call this magical girl?" Luna asked as she watched the download. "Harriette Potter?" Usagi glared into the back of Luna's head.

"Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with them not liking 'Fire Princess Rika'," Mamoru suggested. "Maybe they just don't want to lose you off of the manga you're doing now."

"Yes, Usagi, perhaps you're more valuable where you are now," Luna echoed the sentiment, "and they'll be more receptive to your new story once this one is finished."

"You think?" Usagi asked. "It's not because I have no talent?"

"Anybody who says you have no talent will have to deal with me," Mamoru told her, his hands on her shoulders. Usagi bowed her head to hide her smile.

"The download should be finished, Luna," Artemis said over their real-time connection.

"Yes, I'm printing the photos now," Luna replied. "Thank you, Artemis. You've done your usual superior job."

Before Luna could get a look at them, Usagi snatched the pictures off of the printer. She gazed at them while Mamoru looked over her shoulder and Luna peered over her arm.

"They're driver's license photos, so the level of photography isn't perfect," the cat warned them.

"Oh, Mamo-Chan! Your Mom is so beautiful!" Usagi marveled. "And you've got her eyes!"

"And your father's jaw line," Luna remarked. "There's little doubt they're your parents. The resemblance is proof enough."

"I know they're my parents," Mamoru said softly, entranced by the photos. "I can remember them now."

"What do you remember?" Usagi asked him.

"Bits and pieces," Mamoru replied. "Eating with them at the dinner table. Sitting on the sofa between them." He dipped his head and smiled. "My mother scolding me because I'd pulled all of her flowers out of the flower bed so I could give her a bouquet. I remember I'd seen it on television and thought it was a way to make her feel better." His nostalgia dimmed. "Mom and Dad had just had a big fight."

"Over what?" Usagi inquired.

"I - - don't remember," Mamoru shook his head. "I hadn't even remembered this until now. I just know that Mom was upset - - and I just made it worse."

Mamoru felt Usagi's hand close around his.

"In certain respects, that's good news," Luna commented. "The sight of your parents' pictures has spurred another memory."

"Maybe visiting my old home would stimulate more recall," Mamoru nodded, "like Ami suggested. You and Artemis didn't happen to find the address, did you?"

"It should be on the driver's license," Luna replied. She began swiftly pawing at the keys on her laptop. "Here it is. It's not far from Azabu-Juuban."

"Let's go then!" Usagi squealed, jumping to her feet.

"Shouldn't we have dinner first?" Luna suggested. "It will be quite spoiled if you leave it in the oven too long. And I sincerely doubt that Mamoru's old home will sprout legs and walk away anytime soon."

Usagi scowled. She looked to Mamoru for confirmation. He nodded.

"Well, you never know," Usagi huffed, grabbing the pot holders.

After dinner, Mamoru packed Usagi and Luna into the car and drove off for the address Luna had listed as the last known address of Hotaro and Mio Chiba. The neighborhood was in one of the older sections of the prefect. The houses were well-to-do, solidly Japanese middle class, and yet they were packed together to maximize occupancy in a minimal space, much like so many prefects in Tokyo were packed. The houses were so dense that it was hard for Mamoru to find a place to park. Finally he found a space down the block. Together he and Usagi, with Luna draped over her shoulder, walked back to the house.

As they walked, Usagi kept watch on Mamoru's expression the entire way. She noted the hint of recognition in his eyes. Her breast filled with hope. This was working. He remembered the neighborhood. Maybe he could remember more. So intent was she on watching the flickering of memories pass over her husband's face that she tripped over a paving stone and staggered forward.

"Usagi, is multi-tasking really THAT difficult for you?" Luna said sourly, her claws hooked into Usagi's blouse to keep from being spilled into the street.

"Mamo-Chan?" Usagi asked, ignoring Luna. Mamoru was at the gate of the house, looking up at it in the dying light of sunset. "Do you remember it?"

"Yes," Mamoru whispered. "I was - - six years old the last time I was here. I used to play with the boy two houses down. What was his name? Junichi," and he frowned, "Junichi something. He had a sister. She always wanted to tag along with us and Junichi-kun would always bark at her to stay home." He looked up at the house again. "Mom was always cooking or cleaning - - or chasing after me. She hated cooking, but she did it so well. She made a broiled cod that was just so good."

"Why didn't she like to cook if she was so good at it?" Usagi inquired.

Mamoru frowned. "I don't know. There were a lot of things about my parents that I didn't understand at that age. There are things I can't remember, too. I'm pretty sure she loved Dad - - and me - - but I'm not sure she loved where her life had ended up."

"Mamoru," Luna asked surreptitiously, "do you recall anything about the night of the accident?"

"The car was parked here," Mamoru said, his brow furrowed, "behind where we're standing. Dad was in a hurry. He was scared - - very scared. Mom asked him what was wrong. He told her," and the strain became evident on the young man's face, "I don't remember what he told her. But she got scared, too. He went to get the car started. I asked her what was happening. Mom knelt down and stroked my hair and caressed my cheek. She said - - we had to go on a trip - - and I had to hurry."

Mamoru seemed to buckle slightly. Usagi emitted a surprised squeal and held him up until he could get his legs back under him.

"Mamo-Chan?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm OK, Usako," he wheezed. "Remembering that still seems to be pretty traumatic."

Just then an elderly woman peered out of the gate of the house next door.

"Looking for the Kurogama's?" she inquired.

"No," Usagi answered as she supported Mamoru. "My husband used to live in this house and he just wanted to look at it again."

"Really? I don't remember anyone like . . ." she began. Then she squinted at Mamoru. "You're not the Chiba boy, are you?"

"Yes!" Usagi squealed. "Do you remember him?"

"I should say so," chuckled the old woman. "Why you and that Junichi Mizahara must have run up and down these streets ten thousand times with your soccer ball." Her face took on a nostalgic glow. "Your parents were such a nice couple. It's such a shame what happened to them."

"Do you remember what happened?" Usagi asked.

"Only what I heard," the old woman answered, "that they went off an embankment. And you all alone, Mamoru-kun. It must have been so terrible for you."

For a moment, the old woman thought she saw the cat perched on the blonde woman's shoulder whisper something into her ear. Then she dismissed it as a trick of the fading light.

"Do you remember what happened to all of the Chiba's belongings?" Usagi asked.

"They were taken away," she responded. "The man from Chiba-San's place of business had the belongings all taken away after the house was sold. I don't know what happened to them. I think he worked for Tezawa-San."

Mamoru stiffened at the mention of the word. Usagi and Luna noticed instantly.

"Well, thank you for the information," Mamoru told the old woman. "And it's been nice seeing you again, Oba-San."

"Do you remember me?" she asked, her face lighting up joyously.

"I think I do," Mamoru replied.

Back in the car, Mamoru sat at the steering wheel. He didn't engage the ignition.

"Did you remember something, Mamoru?" Luna asked. "About that night, perhaps?"

"Yes," Mamoru said. He was ill-at-ease, causing Usagi to stare at him petrified. "I remember what Dad said to Mom." Mamoru swallowed. "He said 'He's dead. I killed him'."

Continued in Chapter 5