This ficlet was inspired by a question posed in the ML Discord:

"Does anyone recall how Mamoru addressed Usagi's friends in the manga? Specifically, what does he call Makoto? Is it Mako-san? or Makoto-san?"

Thanks for the inspo, Clover-Cubed

Commencement

Makoto fingered the rose affixed to her right earlobe and released a weary sigh. It was the first moment of quiet she'd had all day.

Up at dawn to bake a special batch of celebratory blueberry muffins, she'd been pulling the last pan out of the oven when everyone had arrived. With nerves and excitement running high, no one had actually been hungry…except Usagi, of course. She'd happily munched her way through the mountain of muffins while Ami forced Rei to listen to the final version of her valedictorian speech. Being that this was her hundredth or so 'final version' no one else had bothered to pay attention.

In typical fashion, Minako had declared at the last minute that she had to have curls for her big day, then proceeded to beg Makoto to 'make her dreams a reality' until Makoto had given in and dug out her curling iron. She'd gotten nearly three quarters of the way through before Minako decided that wearing it straight would be more 'authentic'. Makeup had been another ordeal—Usagi couldn't be trusted with eyeliner—but they'd gotten through it, and as school uniforms were mandatory, wardrobe had, mercifully, not been an issue.

When Rei announced that she was leaving for her own ceremony, Usagi had cried—ruining her mascara—then grumbled, then cried again—ruining her second coat of mascara. Rei was only permitted to go after making numerous assurances that Yuuichiro would videotape everything. Before long, it came time for the rest of them to depart, and after Usagi had secured a few more muffins for the road, they'd all shuffled out of the apartment together.

The ceremony itself had gone by in a blur. A few key moments stuck out. Minako planting a kiss on the principal's cheek after he handed her her diploma. Usagi tripping as she walked up on stage…and then tripping again as she walked back down. Ami's amazing valedictorian speech, of course. The FINAL final version.

And last of all, when Makoto had gone up to get her own diploma.

She hadn't tripped, hadn't kissed anyone, hadn't made any speeches, but she had felt rather proud in that moment. It had taken a lot to get there, more than most anyone would ever know, and she'd congratulated herself on a job well done. Then she'd looked out into the crowd, smiling at all the familiar faces, and forced herself not to think about the two faces she didn't see.

There had been a lot of hugging and laughing and gushing and crying afterwards. Everyone agreed to meet up at a karaoke bar later that evening, then the parents swarmed in, eager to take their graduates to lunch. Ami had been the first to leave; her mother had traded shifts at the hospital to be there. Minako went next, rolling her eyes at her mother's scandalized rebuke. Makoto and Usagi had been the last two. As the Tsukinos showered praise upon their daughter and promised a hearty meal of all her favourite foods, Makoto had seen the hesitation in her friend's eyes.

"Come with us," Usagi had whispered.

Makoto had smiled and racked her brain for a polite way to decline. She loved Usagi, loved what she was trying to do, but the thought of sitting through an entire meal with her wonderful friend who had two wonderful parents had been too much for even her to bear. Any other day, sure.

But not that day.

"Actually, Usako, I thought I could take Makoto-san out for lunch."

Mamoru. Until that moment, Makoto had forgotten all about him. She hadn't meant to…he was just so quiet sometimes that he tended to fade into the background. Needless to say, his offer had come as quite a surprise.

She'd blinked at him, and for the first time in their long acquaintance, a true moment of understanding had passed between them. She'd found herself nodding, and then he and Usagi had exchanged a look too intimate to intrude upon.

Together, the three of them had walked out to the parking lot, where Usagi had bid them a tearful farewell, waving from the backseat of the car until her father drove out of sight. Standing side by side, Makoto and Mamoru had watched the spot where the car had disappeared for several long moments before turning to each other.

"Thank you Mamoru-san," Makoto had said, meaning it. "But you don't actually have to take me to lunch."

"I'd like to," he'd replied, his voice soft and sincere.

And that was how Makoto had wound up in a small café on the day of her high school graduation, about to have lunch with her best friend's boyfriend. Mamoru had chosen the spot. Just off campus from his university, it was easy to miss, situated above two used book stores. He must have seen her dubious look as he'd held the door open for her, because he'd assured her that it had good food and excellent coffee. It was also quiet, he'd told her.

Quiet was good. Makoto could do with a little quiet.

She stopped fiddling with her earring—an idle habit—as Mamoru slid into the booth across from her. She couldn't remember a time when the two of them had ever been alone together. Still, there was nothing to be nervous about; it was just a quick lunch, it didn't have to be awkward. But it might have been, had it not been for Mamoru's efforts to make small talk.

He talked about nothing at first; the weather, school, books he'd read…nothing personal, and nothing that required more than a monosyllabic response. Being that Mamoru was not a big 'talker', Makoto understood that he was doing it for her benefit. And she was content to listen to him, sipping her tea—a fragrant herbal house blend—and letting her thoughts drift throughout the quiet moments.

When the food came, they ate in companionable silence, relaxed enough by that point to dispense with the obligatory chit chat. And when the waitress returned to retrieve their plates and asked if they wanted dessert, there was no awkward glancing at watches or stilted excuses about places to be. Slices of triple chocolate cake and cherry pie—as generous as they were delicious—arrived promptly, along with refills of coffee and tea.

It was only after Makoto took her first bite of the tart pastry that Mamoru told her about his own graduation day. Laying down her fork, she gave him her full attention as he recounted his tale of a quiet morning, a faceless crowd, and celebratory cake for one. Though he kept his story brief and unembellished, Makoto could feel the pain that lived in the pauses, hear the longing that thickened his voice, and see the grief that lurked in his gaze.

By the time Mamoru finished, something had shifted between them.

Until that day, he had only ever been Usagi's Mamoru-san. The quiet, composed, reserved college student that hovered on the edge of their boisterous group without ever really becoming part of it. Makoto realized this was perhaps her own personal bias. Though he had been their ally all these years, a part of her had never forgotten the cold soldier who had fought for the Dark Kingdom, or the—seemingly—heartless boy who had broken her dear friend's heart. While Makoto was well versed in forgiveness, she rarely forgot.

But when they stood from the table, and Mamoru excused himself to pay the cheque, Makoto fingered one of her rose earrings and saw him through fresh eyes.

"Ready to go?" he asked, offering her one of the restaurant's complimentary mints.

"Yup," she said, taking it.

When they reached the car, Makoto paused with her hand on the door latch and looked at him from across the roof.

"Thank you, Mamoru-kun."

"You're welcome, Mako-chan."

Thank you for reading.
Feedback of any kind is humbly encouraged and greatly appreciated.