This is my rewrite of the Sailor Moon first season, told almost exclusively from Mamoru's POV (third person, limited). In this story we explore how the first season might have gone if Usagi and Mamoru met and starting dating before they learned each other's secret identities.
Manga Canon with some borrowing from the anime (totally stole the 'Mamoru and Motoki are best buds' thing but aged Motoki down because that makes more sense to me than aging Mamoru up)
Chapter 1: Denial
Summary: Mamoru meets a girl with weird hair and very powerful emotions
o0o
My UsaMamo Week 2021 Day 1 contribution "Oh, Is He Your Brother?" was written with this universe in mind as I was already working on this story when I decided to join UsaMamo Week at the very last minute. However, the events of that story are not referenced at all within this one, but could have occurred. If you haven't already checked out "Oh, Is He Your Brother?" and would like to do so (it is uploaded here) then I recommend reading this chapter first, then reading that story. Again, you don't have to, but the other story would fit between somewhere between this chapter and the next one.
Quick Summary: Usagi gets caught in the middle of a high school girl confessing to Mamoru while the two are hanging out at the Crown's counter
Takes place pre Usa/Mamo dating
Theme: Frenemies
Prompt: Oh, is he your brother?
o0o
AO3 is my primary site for posting FF so you can also find me there under the same name.
Denial
Getting hit in the face with a ball of paper was not on his to-do list that afternoon.
He had been standing on the sidewalk in front of the Osa-P jewelry store when a girl, whose long blonde hair was pulled up into twin buns, one on either side of her head, each with a long pigtail streaming down her back to below her waist, carelessly tossed the paper she had just noisily crumpled up behind her, hitting him square in the face. It didn't hurt but it annoyed the hell out of him - who just throws something behind them without looking?
"Hey! Miss Lump-Head! Are you trying to put lumps on my head too?"
She was immediately offended, shrieking about having buns in her hair, not lumps, but faltered, her embarrassment and panic suddenly pulling on him when she caught him not so carefully unfurling the offending paper.
A large 30% written in bold red ink and twice underlined for emphasis sat at the top of her English test.
Ah. That explained it.
He took off his sunglasses to better see the girl who had apparently decided he was a trash can. She was flushed from her embarrassment and silently glaring up at him, her very blue eyes shooting figurative daggers.
As he held out her test to her the corner of his mouth pulled up just a little. "Study harder, Odango Atama."
Her embarrassment and rage exploded with the new nickname, and with a very shrill "mind your own business!" quickly snatched the paper back from his hand. Though it was the barest of touches, in the brief moment their fingers brushed his psychometry flared wildly, both startling and immediately overwhelming him.
Since he was a child he has been blessed (or cursed, depending on his day) with the gift of extrasensory perception, specifically, the ability to see and feel the emotions of the people around him. Even objects spoke to him, whispering their history to his fingertips. As a child it confused, frightened, and overwhelmed him. He didn't learn until he was older that this was a form of psychometry, a phenomenon he would not believe to be real if he wasn't living it every single day.
Over the years he managed to gain some semblance of control over this ability, learning how to adjust the intensity of the invading feelings as needed to allow him to function in any given situation. The act was not unlike how one would adjust an old radio frequency for signal clarity.
But this method had its drawbacks. The more he tuned down the emotions around him the less he himself felt, and the less he himself emoted. Can't have it one way without the other.
Touch made it stronger, amplifying his ability like a strong antenna, so he went out of his way to avoid giving and receiving unwanted touches. He didn't care if he was judged as arrogant, uninterested, uncaring, or cold, because life was simply easier this way.
At this point in his life it was rare for another person's emotions to be felt so strongly by that individual that their feelings broke through his carefully constructed walls and defenses, but it did happen.
But never had it happened quite like this.
This girl's emotions overwhelmed and eclipsed all his senses until everything else faded away, leaving only her.
And this all came about from a split-second brush of their fingers.
He felt everything.
She opened to him like a book that couldn't wait to be read.
He already knew she was embarrassed and angry
But she was also attracted to him.
And confused. About what? He wasn't a mind reader so he had no idea.
He saw the opening of arms, beckoning and welcoming.
A glimpse of family. So many friends.
This girl was well loved.
And has a lot of love to give in return.
Love.
Now that's a foreign emotion.
He tried to explore, to read further, but the vision was gone as quick as it came, and he noted with disappointment that his senses had returned to normal and he could no longer feel her.
Because she was gone.
His eyes found her further down the sidewalk, muttering loudly to herself about the jerk in the tuxedo. He looked down at himself but shrugged. Maybe it was strange to wear a tuxedo in the middle of the day but he had very important business to attend to this afternoon.
He allowed his eyes to return to her shrinking form and unconsciously performed an assessment.
She was short – her face fell in line with his chest.
And very loud - despite the increased distance he could still pick out the occasional word from her rant.
But what he found most interesting about her was her brightness, which he thought put even the sun to shame. He was certain she could light up the night sky with just her presence.
His eyes fell to the hand still thrumming with her energy.
Oh well.
Mamoru shook his head and replaced his sunglasses on his face.
He'd never seen her before today so it was unlikely he'd ever see her again.
o0o
"We sure do seem to bump into each other a lot, don't we Odango Atama?"
She flushed once again in annoyance at the nickname he'd given her and looked away with a pout as he helped her up from the sidewalk.
In the last couple of weeks she literally ran into him with increasing frequency, making their strange encounters the most consistent interaction he had with another person outside of school. And with every run-in he noted with renewed disappointment that every touch since the very first was annoyingly normal, providing amplified access to her emotions in the moment but lacking the revealing insight into her life.
The nickname inspired by her unusual hair style was a necessity because he still didn't know her name, even after all this time. She never offered it and he could never bring himself to ask.
But he loved that she hated it.
Her anger flushed her face, pulled her mouth into an adorable pout, and made her come alive.
Rationally he knew this was not the proper way to behave but as long as it kept her attention on him he would keep riling her up at every opportunity.
Because this girl was slowly endearing herself to him, and had already become one of his favorite parts of the day. Her lively aura and expressive demeanor, so different from the strict, dull environment of the orphanage where he was raised or the stuffy competitiveness of his school, was a sunny respite from the oppressive dark clouds that covered his everyday life.
For the first time since these encounters started she stopped him before he could walk away. But when his curious gaze met her blue eyes her sudden nervousness made her hesitate, and as she looked away her fingers began playing with her skirt.
"Your... um... uniform... Are you a junior high school student like me?"
The smirk pulled up onto his face before he could stop it. "Actually, I am a full-fledged high school student!" He boasted, flashing his school ID as proof.
As she carefully read the proffered ID aloud her curiosity morphed into mildly annoyed resignation: "Chiba Mamoru, Moto-Azabu Private High School."
His school is one of the most elite high schools in the country.
She crossed her arms with a huff. "Well, Chiba Mamoru, my name is ACTUALLY Tsukino Usagi, not 'Odango Atama,'" she said, making a face at the nickname. "Since you managed to get into such a great school I expect you to have no trouble remembering it."
He laughed then; a genuine, unrestrained, deep laugh.
She had him there.
Usagi's face lit up with her smile and she held out one slender hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Mamoru-kun!"
Mamoru regarded her with a slight tilt of his head, his features projecting his amusement. "That's a little familiar towards someone older than you whom you just met, don't you think?"
But Usagi just laughed it away with a dismissive wave. "Of course not, Mamoru-kun! We're practically friends after all this time so we're way past that kind of formality, don't you think?"
The hand was extended again with renewed gusto, pulling a throaty chuckle from deep in his throat.
"Oh, of course, Usa. My mistake."
Such an informal use of her name was intended to be a one-time thing, a friendly retaliation of sorts for the familiar use of his name, but the delicate blush blooming on her face and the softening of her eyes made his heart do strange things in his chest.
OK.
'Usa' it is.
Usagi's hand was soft and warm in his, her joy and amusement a pleasant shock against his palm. "So," he teased, "will you be running into me again tomorrow?"
Her boisterous laugh echoed in his ears the rest of the afternoon.
o0o
After that day she began making an effort to join him during his morning walks to school, pulling his mind from his books or his thoughts with a loud "Mamoru-kuuuuuun!"
He soon found himself not caring that people stared, because stopping to wait for her was always rewarded with an out of breath "good morning, Mamoru-kun!" and a blinding smile.
She'd fall in step beside him, covering a yawn with the back of her hand while complaining about the early hour. Sometimes when she arrived her hair was just a little out of place and she would be just finishing a slice of toast as her breakfast.
She was not a morning person, she told him, but he is her friend and friends walk to school together. "We're going the same way anyway, right?"
Yes, but their schools were in different parts of the city so their paths only overlapped a little. Why was she making such an effort for what was really a fairly short walk?
He initially questioned if it was her attraction to him that kept bringing her back every morning but there was no discernible agenda, no unwanted physical touches, no suggestive smiles. In his experience, girls who only spent time with him in an effort to ask him out made their intentions quite clear upfront through their actions and their emotions.
But not Usagi. She was a walking bundle of sunshine, her warm, inviting smiles asking nothing from him but his time and attention when they were together, which, for Usagi, he was surprisingly happy to give.
And so it was him who eventually suggested a designated meeting place to make it easier on her to meet up in the mornings.
Usagi beamed up at him at the suggestion before joking she should give him her cell number so he could text her in the mornings to ensure she wasn't late.
But because he is an idiot he simply replied "I don't own a cell phone."
Usagi stopped short. "You don't? Why not?"
"Because landlines still exist?" He shrugged. "I already have a perfectly good phone at home. Besides, being connected to people all the time sounds exhausting."
"Mamoru-kun!" Usagi stamped her foot in exasperation. "You need to have a cell phone! What if your family or friends need to reach you when you aren't home?"
His grip on his satchel became white-knuckled. "Hasn't been an issue yet," he responded curtly.
She didn't appear to notice his change in tone. "Well, I'm giving you my number anyway. You know, for emergencies."
A pen was unceremoniously ripped from her own satchel but before he could notice she hadn't also grabbed paper Usagi was in his personal space and holding his hand palm side down.
The gall of this girl, to write her number on the back of his hand instead of simply asking him for paper. But the scratches of the pen as she wrote, along with her fingers pressing into his hand, sent warm tingles shooting up his arm.
He decided to let it be.
"There."
She stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Her number was sloppily written and signed with a small bunny face.
As he stared down at it he felt that strange feeling in his chest again, and he had to resist the urge to press his hand against it. "Uh, thanks..."
Her face lit up as she responded with a sing-song lilt. "You're welcome!"
It dawned on him later that he hadn't given her his number in return.
o0o
Usagi did the lion's share of the talking, speaking in a fast and excited manner, complete with gesturing hands and varying levels of volume, as she shared everything about herself: her family, her friends, her love of the Crown Game Center and all things food. Mamoru was content to listen, enjoying the press of her aura and the emotions it conveyed: her joy and optimism, her enthusiasm and overall zest for life.
It was so different from his own dark, self-deprecating, introverted thoughts and feelings.
He found himself starting to yearn for it, so drawn to her as a moth to a flame, wishing she would grab his hand again, or his arm, anything, just so he could better read and experience emotions warmer and more inviting than his and that of his demons.
Sometimes he wondered what it would be like, to actually experience life as she did, so open and carefree.
When she expressed her dislike of school he couldn't help but laugh. School was probably the one area he had her beat.
"And you already know how much I love English," she told him sarcastically, an embarrassed flush gracing her features. "I'm not much better with math." Her face became contemplative as she placed her index finger to her chin. "Actually, I might be worse at math..."
"Really?" The familiar smirk pulled up on his face and he couldn't help his teasing tone. "And here I was thinking you couldn't possibly be much worse at math than you are at English."
"Shut up," she grumbled before sticking her tongue out at him. "What do you know?"
"More than you about Math and English, apparently," he drawled, fighting a genuine smile from her childish yet totally adorable gesture, "I actually enjoy both subjects and am quite good at them too."
Usagi responded with an overly dramatic and exaggerated sigh. "Why am I not surprised?"
He chuckled warmly, and her small smile, accentuated by a faint blush, stayed in his mind the rest of the day.
o0o
Usagi was a bouncing bundle of joy this morning. Yesterday she finally beat her high score on the Sailor V game at Crown and Motoki, one of the employees she told him, had treated her to a chocolate shake as a reward.
"I know Motoki, Usa. He's actually a friend of mine. We attend Azabu together." Mamoru was immediately startled by Usagi's abrupt squeal of delight that they FINALLY shared something in common.
She grasped the sleeve of his uniform jacket in excitement, her fingers and her joy were warm through the fabric of both his uniform shirt and jacket. "Toki-onii-chan is like my big brother!" She exclaimed, and went on to explain her parents have been friends with Motoki's parents for years so she and her younger brother Shingo essentially grew up with Motoki and his younger sister Unazuki.
He wanted to be surprised by this but wasn't. Maybe he should have seen it coming.
Motoki and Usagi were so similar, he realized; both incredibly expressive, their emotions plainly displayed on their face for everyone to see; outgoing and friendly. Just like Usagi, it had been Motoki who broached friendship with Mamoru after they had found themselves involuntarily assigned together during a group project.
Motoki saw right through Mamoru's hesitance to accept, a strange smile warming Motoki's already bright face, yet reflecting an underlying meaning Mamoru hadn't understood back then. But after reflecting back on it many times over the past couple of years Mamoru came to recognize it as some kind of understanding. An understanding of him.
But this Mamoru did not share with Usagi.
As Mamoru harkened back to when he and Motoki met as middle school students Mamoru caught her rapt attention, hugging her satchel to herself tightly and her blue eyes wide with wonder and anticipation.
Afterwards they took turns sharing funny anecdotes about Motoki, one of which had Usagi snorting with laughter.
"Mamoru-kun," she said through her laugh, turning those too blue eyes up to his, "tell me about your famil- oh!.. uh... um..." She cut herself off and looked away with a blush, and immediately changed the subject.
A slip up.
He had been tuned into her, basking in her exuberance and her joy, but as her emotions were amplified so too were his, and she'd just gotten a glimpse of a true, conflicted emotion, something he did not show other people.
And now their fun, lighthearted moment was ruined because he'd been too slow to school his face.
He chanced a glance back to her, keeping his face forward but sliding his eyes over. Usagi continued on with her new topic as if she hadn't nearly asked about the one thing he simply does not talk about; as if she didn't just see the pain flash unto his face (which he was sure she most likely misconstrued as something else) before he could hide it away behind his mask.
But her smile was less sincere and she'd moved away from his side just a little, no doubt pulled away by the guilt and confusion lining every inch of her.
He wanted to take it away, to let her know she hadn't actually done anything wrong, but he didn't know how, and to help her understand meant telling her about a part of himself and his past he was just not ready to share.
So instead they continued walking, Usagi talking, Mamoru only half listening, both swathed in guilt.
The next morning she approached their meeting place quietly, hesitantly, and so late he was just about to leave without her.
It was unsettling, really, how quiet she was.
It was wrong.
"Look, Usa-"
"About yest-"
They started and stopped at the same time and then looked away from each other. An awkward silence settled between them.
But Usagi suddenly charged right through it with a rushed "I'm sorry for whatever I said yesterday." His startled eyes found her looking down at her feet, kicking at a small pebble with the toe of her shoe. "I didn't mean to upset you," she murmured.
He was struck by her sincerity, though her thinking that she needed to apologize at all tugged on his heart. "No... Usa, you didn't. It's... I..." Mamoru ran a hand through his hair, unsure how to explain it, how to make this strange awkwardness go away so they could go back to how they were.
But her small hand was suddenly on his arm and her blue, blue eyes shining through her lashes as she gazed up at him, her smile indicating some kind of understanding Mamoru didn't even understand.
He was uncomfortable and exposed under that gaze, even as his breath caught and his heart did that funny thing in his chest.
"OK," she said through that same smile, and just like that her guilt was gone, replaced by relief. Then she curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and tugged him along with her. "Come on, Mamoru-kun! We're really late!"
He was surprised by his disappointment when she let go.
o0o
Mamoru was amazed by just how breathtakingly clumsy she was, questioning how she had gone through fourteen years of life without sustaining any serious injury.
The stumbles both up and down the curb, over cracks in the sidewalk; crashing into fixed light poles or trash cans.
If she were navigating unfamiliar terrain he might better understand her clumsiness. But she knew these streets, knew the people they saw nearly every morning by name and they her. She has lived in the same house all of her fourteen years of life and was in her second year of the same junior high, so it was reasonable to assume she had walked these sidewalks for at least a year before meeting him.
And yet she stumbled over the same cracks and curbs. Not every day but with enough frequency he was genuinely concerned. Honestly, when it first started happening he thought it was some sort of strange joke or bit that he just didn't get. But as it kept happening he realized, no, she actually is this clumsy.
It didn't help that she was usually so engaged in their conversations that she appeared to lose all spatial awareness and, instead of her body developing a kind of learned automation to avoid these minor obstacles, she tripped.
Multiple times.
She didn't fall every time, sometimes flailing her arms and adjusting her feet as she lurched forward allowed her to correct her center of gravity. But the times she couldn't she crashed to the ground with a screech and a yelp.
The first several times his disbelief that this was happening AGAIN kept him acting. Instead he merely reacted afterwards, offering her an outstretched hand with a teasing smirk. "What are we going to do with you, Odango Atama?"
He lived for the resulting glare, a mix of annoyance at him, embarrassment for the fall, and something else he couldn't quite place, when she placed her small hand in his to be assisted up.
But once he realized this wasn't going to stop any time soon he steadied her himself, a lingering hand to a shoulder; both hands to her waist if her situation was particularly precarious.
She'd become so adorably flustered each time he steadied her that he couldn't decide which reaction he preferred.
o0o
He'd been right about her having many friends.
She spoke of them often, of their talents and skills; of their importance in her life.
There were her friends Naru and Umino who apparently had a crush on each other but were completely oblivious to the other's feelings. She had thrown her hands up in exasperation "Why won't they just tell each other how they feel already?!"
Mamoru couldn't help but relate to her two clueless friends as that inability to open yourself up, to expose yourself and be vulnerable with someone was something he knew all too well. If they were anything like him, the uncertainty of the other person's feelings was far safer than the finality of rejection, of which he suspected Usagi worried very little.
But he immediately regretted suggesting this possibility to Usagi as her shoulders sagged at the thought. "But they would be so great together."
But Usagi was a risk taker that way, keeping herself open to those around her, heart on her sleeve, never hesitating to reach out to try to form a connection with another person. Just as she had with him.
He very much envied that part of her.
Then came Ami, the blue-haired genius who always got the top scores at their school and because of Usagi learned she was actually really good at the Sailor V arcade game (Usagi was quite proud of that). "She hopes to be a doctor someday, just like you, Mamoru-kun!"
The Shinto priestess Rei was next, a psychic with the ability to read/divine fires, lives in a beautiful old shrine with her grandfather, and has two pet crows. "They're very cute, for crows, I mean. One of them let me pet it once. Did you know crows are super smart?"
And lastly, Makoto, the super strong baker and excellent cook. "Seriously, Mamoru-kun. You haven't experienced dessert until you've tried one of Mako-chan's treats. She's amazing! And sometimes she shares her lunch with me which is great because I forget mine sometimes."
Considering the harried state in which Usagi often arrived at their meeting place this did not surprise him one bit.
Usagi also explained Makoto once saved her from a speeding car Usagi had been too tired one morning to notice. It was how they met, she said.
She had blamed her inattention that particular morning on a weird dream, said she had been having a lot of them then – still was, actually, she corrected, trailing off as a far away expression dimmed her blue eyes.
With a shake of her head she came back, dismissing it as silly girlish nonsense with a laugh and a wave of her hand before changing the subject.
He didn't tell her that he had strange dreams too.
He dreamt of a young woman whose face he could not see, begging him night after night to find the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou, whatever that was. He ran his hand through his hair as he recalled it, thinking of the numerous late nights he spent wandering all of Tokyo scoping out jewelry stores looking for it, or fighting against the Dark Kingdom alongside the Sailor Senshi to prevent the kingdom's generals from obtaining it.
o0o
It was around the time Ami joined her large circle of friends that he began to notice a change in Usagi and her demeanor.
While it wasn't every day, sometimes she moved a little slower, held her shoulders slightly lower, and the shine of her brightness glowed a little dimmer.
On those days she carried a lot of self-doubt, speaking in broad terms about her inability to properly contribute, of holding others back; feeling like she was letting her friends down. She never elaborated further so it was difficult to properly formulate a response and he was sure everything he said came off as unhelpful platitudes.
He couldn't imagine what would cause this crisis of confidence. All of their conversations up until then had made him certain she was the most self-assured person he'd ever met, yet another thing he had envied about her because he carried so much doubt in himself.
But the very next day she would be back to her usual bright and animated self, as if the previous day's loss of confidence hadn't happened.
But Mamoru remembered.
o0o
When she starting no-showing in the mornings he initially brushed it off, assuming she was oversleeping (as she sometimes did) but the day he departed their meeting place accompanied only by his disappointment and caught her flanked by her two friends, her sleek black cat with the peculiar crescent-shaped bald spot on its forehead riding on a shoulder as the group walked and laughed together his heart actually broke.
People came in and out of his life all the time with little to no consequence.
But Usagi was different.
And he was having trouble admitting to himself why that was.
A few mornings later she raced up to him out of sorts and out of breath. "I'm so sorry, Mamoru-kun," she gasped, "but I have to walk with Ami-chan and Mako-chan in the mornings now. School stuff, you know?"
Her excuse wasn't entirely truthful but there was genuine remorse in it so he let it go with a murmured "I understand."
But inside he was devastated.
His feelings for her confused him and caused an ache in his chest he did not understand, which would not go away no matter how much he tried to distract himself with school.
He thought back to their discussion about her two friends and idly wondered if they ever did confess their feelings. Her number (which he had immediately transferred to a far more sensible sheet of paper after they had gone their separate ways that morning) was burning a hole in his satchel.
The game center wasn't his scene but he started spending the afternoons there on days Motoki worked, settling himself on the last stool at the end of the counter to either do homework or read a book while sipping a cup of coffee. He'd converse with Motoki if his friend had the free time.
After she canceled their morning meet-ups he tried to move on with his life but gave up after about a week. He would just have to go to her, to the one place of which she spoke the most.
Thank goodness his best friend worked there to give him a valid excuse.
Usagi's voice lingered on the periphery of his mind as she laughed and carried on with her friends.
He still didn't understand the feelings fluttering around in his chest nor the ache which intensified whenever he thought of her.
The first time she found him sitting at the counter she had bounced right up to him in typical Usagi fashion. "Mamoru-kun! What brings you here?" Her smile was blinding and his mouth went dry as he basked in her presence for the first time in days.
'You.' Is what he should have said, but instead replied "I decided it was time to finally check out Motoki-kun's family's arcade. You speak so highly of it, after all."
But before she could respond, the sound of the arcade's doors opening pulled her gaze from him to the sight of her friends crossing the threshold. With a genial "It was good to see you!" she bounced away to greet them. Motoki came up to the counter from the other side just as she left, his hands around his back tying the waist straps of his work apron.
"How you know Usa-chan?"
Mamoru regarded him for a moment. Motoki had nearly tripped over himself in surprise when Mamoru asked to walk with him to his job after school, so now Mamoru wondered if his friend suspected anything.
Motoki's aura revealed nothing other than curiosity. Quickly glancing over Motoki's relaxed posture and unsuspecting gaze, Mamoru figured he was in the clear (Motoki had a terrible poker face anyway)
"Oh, she's run into me a few times."
Motoki walked away laughing. "Yea, that sounds like Usagi."
o0o
The arcade was a hub, a meeting place, for teens and young adults alike. It was loud, and on busy days the emotions from its patrons edged towards overwhelming, what with the passion or anger towards the games; the joy, excitement, and love when meeting with friends or significant others; sadness or frustration when commiserating with others over fried food or dessert.
But Mamoru actually found himself enjoying his time despite it all, for once preferring the energy and noise of other people around him instead of the silent, lonely emptiness that was his apartment or the school library.
Usagi and her friends spent most of their afternoons at Crown crammed together into a booth near the windows, laughing and talking, drinking shakes or sodas, sometimes sharing food. They were often loud but not disruptive, the din of the games and other patrons drowning out most of their conversations.
Their auras contained genuine friendship, joy, and affection for one another but he also found loss and grief hidden deep inside, only occasionally coming to the surface.
And there was a nondescript sense of shared duty which bound them, something he found intriguing. The one time he tried to mentally reach out for a closer look the black-haired girl – Rei – snapped her head in his direction so quickly and with such an intense glare that the other girls were immediately alarmed, their conversation derailing to ask her what was wrong.
He pointedly avoided looking in their direction, instead choosing to sip his coffee and desperately attempt an air of nonchalance to avoid any sort of confrontation. Rei's discerning violet eyes swept over him, prodding and searching, and the combined effort of keeping her out and his nerves from the ordeal had him breaking out in a cold sweat.
When her eyes finally left him he lowered his coffee cup with a shaking hand and let out a relieved sigh. Several minutes passed before he dared glance back their way.
After that day he was extremely careful to not use his psychometry around Rei again.
o0o
"Um...Excuse me... Mamoru-san?"
Damn. He quietly sighed and closed the book he had been reading on his walk home. Before turning around Mamoru removed his reading glasses and schooled his face in preparation of the unwanted exchange he was sure was about to take place with the blushing brunette who just called his name.
Here we go.
He knew the girl about to confess to him, though not well; had worked with her recently during a collaborative function between their two schools.
Her attraction to him had been incredibly annoying: giggling softly; constantly trying to touch his arm; suggestive smiles. By the end of the event he had to practically peel her off him. She was intelligent, had great attention to detail and, despite everything, was a very productive member of the team, but he found her exhausting and her aura too clingy.
And Motoki's teasing smirk had done nothing to ease his foul mood.
The girl was looking down at her fidgeting hands. Behind her stood her friends, presumably for moral support.
The brunette laid bare her heart, from her enjoyment from working with Mamoru that day and how much she really, really likes him. But it was her belief that he must like her in return, stated through a shy smile and deepening blush, that sent his mind reeling. So much so that when she finally lifted her head and met his eyes to ask the always dreaded "Will you go out with me?" he scarcely heard her.
Thankfully, it had been awhile since a girl had confessed to him. He heard whispers of his supposed reputation as a breaker of hearts, earned from the sheer number of girls who had confessed to him only to be rejected. It was an honestly impressive number considering he attended an all-boys school and went out of his way to avoid social events.
But he didn't think the reputation was a fair characterization since he didn't seek out these girls and he certainly didn't flirt with them. These girls always approached him with their hearts in their hands and hope in their eyes. He hated it, especially the resulting emotional fallout when he inevitably turned them down. Their disappointed embarrassment always turned on him, lashing out and accusing, as if he was the one responsible for managing their feelings.
He just couldn't understand what had he done to make this girl believe he was at all interested in dating her. While his brain raced through every encounter with this girl, recalling every exchange, her anxiety for, and anticipation of, his awaited answer danced around and needled him.
Finally the memory hit him, fast and hard, sending his stomach crashing to the floor.
During the event this girl had broken the comfortable working silence with a story completely unrelated to the task at hand. While everyone else politely half listened, interjecting here or there as appropriate, Mamoru's uninterested mind began to wander, and when it inevitably landed on Usagi, he thought of nothing else.
Usagi would hate this project, he remembered thinking to himself. Too much math and not nearly enough eating.
In fact, they had worked through lunch to ensure there would be enough time to not just finish their work but to then meticulously review it, which Mamoru knew she would have despised. Usagi was a once-and-done kind of girl when it came to anything school work related, if she bothered with it at all.
And as he pictured her indignation and the pout which would no doubt grace her features at the very idea of skipping an opportunity to eat in favor of school work he smiled and chuckled to himself, a genuinely warm smile despite himself, despite his frustration at his work partner and her clingy attraction and her inability to keep her hands to herself.
It was a smile he did not usually show other people.
This girl must have noticed, must have thought this was because of... that his smile was directed at...
Oh, damn...
She didn't take his rejection well as she clearly hadn't been expecting it.
He felt her shift from anxious hope to embarrassed anger and braced himself, waiting for the hurt about to be hurled his way.
And she did not disappoint.
"I've heard about you, Mamoru-san," she seethed, "I know all about the rumors. But after working with you I was so sure they had been wrong, that they were made up by girls who didn't know you. Well, I do know you now." She levied a spiteful glare upon his expressionless face. "You're very handsome, but also cruel and heartless; to lead girls on like you did me. I honestly thought you liked me. But now I don't think you are capable of loving anyone other than yourself."
Then, with her head held high, she turned on her heel and walked away, and her friends scrambled to catch up.
He watched her go through an impassive expression.
It's always the same.
These girls always think they know him.
They "know" him so well they are just so certain he will say yes.
Afterwards they always just "knew" he was too heartless to actually go out with them.
Always "heartless".
As if his not wanting to date them meant there was something wrong with him.
Some of these girls were genuinely nice, their auras and emotions pleasant and kind. They usually handled his rejections better - feeling sad, sometimes there were tears - and he would genuinely feel bad for causing them their current distress.
Some exhibited snippets of underlying jealousy and/or overbearing clinginess.
A few were downright cruel.
But they all had the same thing in common.
He simply wasn't interested.
With a relieved sigh Mamoru, glad it was over, rolled his shoulders to shake out the tension which had started building the moment the girl called his name. These encounters were always emotionally exhausting.
'Incapable of loving anyone other than himself'? He snorted.
He wished he was capable of loving himself.
But he shook it off as he always did, looking forward to the familiar distraction of school work when he turned around to resume his work home and nearly crashed into a very distracted and very angry Usagi.
Listening to the hurt-filled comments of a broken-hearted girl had nothing on the apprehension quickly consuming him as he took in Usagi's shaking hands, clenched jaw, and downturned eyes.
What was she doing here?
But more importantly, how much did she hear?
And what did she believe?
Usagi was so angry her aura thrashed wildly about her and Mamoru took a wary step back.
This was different from the offended angry outburst which marked their first meeting or her frustration when he occasionally called her 'Odango Atama' instead of her name.
No.
Usagi was feeling pure, unadulterated rage.
Dread began unfurling in his chest.
This rage must be directed at him for hurting that other girl; he could see no other explanation.
Did Usagi feel he had led her on as well?
And just like that his demons were on the offensive, fomenting self-doubt and engaged in a relentless barrage of verbal abuse.
And now he was sure he just lost Usagi, that she would remove herself from the probably small place she incorrectly thought she held in his life, and her brightness would leave him in a greater darkness than before it arrived.
"She's wrong, you know."
Usagi said it so softly he almost missed it, but as his anxiety-riddled brain slowly processed her words he felt them shake him to his very core.
"Mamoru-kun." Her eyes jerked up to his so quickly he was startled; she grabbed his arm so tightly it hurt. He could feel her conviction through her grip and her blue eyes brooked no room for argument. "She's WRONG."
He allowed himself to search her eyes, desperate to confirm what she was expressing to him with more than just his psychometry.
Her blue eyes did not waver.
Mamoru failed to swallow down the lump in his throat so could only respond with a staggering nod.
She was called away by one of her other friends, a girl with a hair bow tied at the crown of her short red hair and whose hand was being held by a boy with spiky brown hair and wore probably the thickest glasses Mamoru had ever seen.
His eyes followed Usagi as she left to join them, not caring he was obviously staring, and he continued to watch her until she was out of sight.
But it wasn't until later, in the quiet of his apartment, that he realized those teens were the Naru and Umino of her old stories, the two hapless friends who had exasperated Usagi with their inability to confess their feelings.
While Naru had called out to Usagi with a wide smile and steady wave of her arm, Umino was watching Naru like a love-struck fool who simply couldn't believe his luck. They exuded the kind of naive and optimistic infatuation that could only be found in young teenagers.
He frowned at the ache that suddenly flared in his chest.
When he brushed his fingers against the part of his forearm Usagi had grabbed, her words rang in his ear as if she were standing right beside him to whisper them there herself. 'She's wrong, you know.'
He wanted that too.
For the first time in his life he not only wanted it, he wanted it desperately.
That thought was as liberating as it was terrifying. Not once had he ever reciprocated the feelings of any of the girls who confessed to him. Not only was he not interested, he was afraid; afraid of opening himself up to someone and of being vulnerable with them, not just physically but emotionally.
But then Usagi hit him in the face, literally with a failed test and figuratively with her emotions; emotions so unapologetically strong they broke through his walls, emotions so open and welcoming they pulled him in.
Usagi made him want to feel again.