Chapter 3 - Minako's Solution
Insomniacs Anonymous
by Lady Aishiteru
Chapter 3 - Minako's Solution
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. But I will...and then I shall RULE THE WORLD! MWA HA HA HA HA!
Real Discliamer: *ahem* I don't own Sailor Moon. And I never will. Well, except a few manga, anyways.
Lady A: Please excuse the "disclaimer..." I was drunk on power and Diet Pepsi. Well, maybe just the Pepsi. ^_^ I'll be you thought I was going to do Makoto's solution, didn't ya? NO DICE! Hee hee...just kidding. I got this idea in my head two days ago and I just HAD to write it down. Here, for your reading pleasure, is how the goddess of love likes to relax. Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Usagi's P.O.V.~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
'So much homework,' I thought to myself. I had rested my head on my arms in Ms. Haruna's class, and do you know what that sadist thought would perk me up? Extra homework! She had bubbled on and on like a madwoman about the beauty of English literature until my head started to hurt. I mean, geez! I don't even LIKE English! Well, not as much as SHE does. But I don't think ANYONE could like John Steinbeck as much as her, well, not any sane person, anyways. I mean, the guy made a big deal about his dog, Charley's "saluting" of a redwood! And I would be a happy, happy girl without knowing that, if Ms. Haruna hadn't made me read Travels With Charley: In Search of America, as well as saddling me down with Grapes of Wrath and Of Mice and Men, to be finished by next Monday. And it was already Wednesday, so I didn't have time put things off.
I pondered my literary dilemna en route to the Arcade, my nose in Of Mice and Men. I was trying so hard to make sense of the southern American dialect that I was unaware of what was going on around me. 'Bindle...stiff? What the heck is a bindle? Gotta get out my English to Japanese dictionary...' I thought. I was mentally tracking the location of the dictionary in my bookbag when something big, hard and fast knocked me flat on my butt, scattering my books all over the sidewalk.
I rubbed my head and tried to move off the sore spot on my bottom, but it was no use...I wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for awhile. I started to get up on my own, but was greeted by a large, slender, yet powerful hand and a deep voice. "Are you okay? Here, let me help you up."
'I know that voice,' I thought, and just as it was about to register in my overloaded brain, I was face to face with Mamoru. Mumbling under my breath, I accepted his hand and got up.
"Usagi? Is that you?" he asked.
I tilted my head to the side. Was he feeling okay? Of course it was me! "Yeah."
"I almost didn't recognize you, with your head in a book. Are you sure you're not hiding a manga in there?" he asked.
I scoffed. "What, you don't think I'm smart enough to read a book without pictures?" I asked. Granted, I didn't think Steinbeck was all that good, but I didn't want my intelligence insulted either. Not today. I picked up Travels With Charley, turned it over so the pages were facing him, and flipped slowly though them so he would know that I wasn't hiding any manga. "Here, see for yourself," I said, handing the book over for his inspection.
He adjusted his glasses and smilied his half-grin, the way he does whenever someone amuses him. "Wow. Steinbeck. I didn'd take you to be a fan of American literature," he said
"I'm not. From what I've read so far, he travels around in a cabin attached to a truck, talks about seeing his wife for half the novel but won't discuss the actual visit, and he has an odd fetish about his stupid dog. I think he's a big windbag."
He laughed, the kind of laughter that was with me, not against me, which was nice for a change. "He's different, I'll give you that."
"So where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"The Arcade," he said. "I haven't found any cafe' in Tokyo that makes better java. Want some help carrying those books?"
"Nah, I've got it," I said, feeling a strange thumping in my chest. Why was he being so nice? He was acting almost like a gentleman. Almost like a guy would treat his...
"I insist," he said, interrupting my thoughts with that slow, sexy grin of his. SEXY?! He is NOT sexy! He is the biggest jerk in all of Tokyo! He cannot be sexy! I thought, groaning.
"Geez, I must have hit you harder than I thought."
"Eh heh heh," I said, blushing profusely. He had no idea. I switched the subject. "So what's with this 'java' craze? Are you addicted to the stuff?"
"Everyone has their vices. I can think of worse habits than an...occasional...cup of cappucino."
"Last time I saw you down five," I pointed out. "Is something wrong?"
He sighed. "You could say that."
"Been up late at night?" I asked.
"How did you guess?" he asked, laughing weakly.
"Those circles under your eyes," I said, reaching up as if to touch them.
"Yeah. I haven't been sleeping well. By the way, how did that thing Rei suggested work out for you?"
I groaned. "Don't remind me!"
"I'm guessing it didn't work," he said. I told him about the mishap with the CD player, but I left out the part about Motoki's parents seeing me naked. By the time I was done, we had reached the Arcade, and he had his arm linked through mine. I had no idea how it got there, but I had to admit, I liked it.
"Hey, guys," I said, walking through the door.
"Hey, Usagi," said Minako. "I was just talking to the girls. I have a great idea for tonight. It'll have you sleeping like a baby in no time."
"GUYS!" I mouthed, turning red. I didn't need anything else for Mamoru to be able to tease me about, even if I wasn't sure he would.
"Sorry," said Minako. "Anyways, have you heard about yoga?"
"Yogurt?"
"No, yoga. It's all the rage. You put your body into certain...positions." She took a book out of her purse and waved it around for emphasis. "According to that guy in the bookstore, who does NOT look like Makoto's old boyfriend," she said, elbowing Makoto, "this will make you feel relaxed."
I laughed. "Come on, Minako. These positions look really painful. How can any human being do that?"
"Stretch out first," said Ami. "Otherwise, you could contract your muscles."
"Huh?"
"She means you cold hurt yourself," said Mamoru, who was still standing next to me.
"Oh."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~Mamoru's P.O.V.~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After work, which seemed especially exhausting today, I drove straight home. Once inside, I shucked my clothes and changed into my favorite bathrobe and slippers. Laying back on the couch, I turned on the TV with the remote and prepared myself for an evening of vegetation. Clicking through the channels, I sighed. I should have known there wouldn't be anything good on at this hour,' I thought.
Soon, a panic broke though my boredom. Sailor Moon's in trouble! I thought, sensing her fear through our psychic link. I transformed and was out of the door as fast as my tired body could muster.
I tracked the link all the way to a medium sized house in the Juuban district. 'Strange. It's so quiet.' Youmas are big, ugly and usually scantily clad - and about as subtle as a drunken bear. But I didn't see, or hear, any signs of trouble; I only had Sailor Moon's growing fear to guide me to the source of the problem, a second floor room around the back of the house. I climbed up the tree and looked through the window, expecting to be caught in some strange, youma crime spree, and Sailor Moon right in the middle of it.
But there was no youma, and no Sailor Moon either, at least I didn't think so. It was Usagi, fixed in a strange and uncomfortable looking position in the back of her bedroom. Raising my eyebrow behind the domino mask, I tapped on the window. "Are you all right, miss?" I asked, wondering why the psychic link strengthened as I came closer.
"No, I'm not all right, you dolt! I'm stuck!"
I wanted to collapse on the floor and laugh hysterically. Me, the dashing, masked superhero of Tokyo, was summoned out of my cozy apartment, dragged via psychic link all the way to this stupid 'burb just to get Usagi un-stuck? She was resting on her arms, her legs somehow were raised over her head and bent at the knee, looking like a human pretzel. And I'M supposed to be the 'dolt?' Mumbling about eating too many pieces of pizza, I crept closer.
"What was that?" asked Usagi, who bent her knees slightly, enabling her to look at me face to face. "Oh, Tuxedo Mask! I didn't recognize you."
"Apology accepted," I said indulgently. "Now explain exactly how you got yourself..." I said, tapping my chin, "stuck like that."
"I was doing these yoga excercises in this book my friend gave me, and I wanted to try the one on page 35," she said, gesturing with her head towards the book. "It looked really cool."
I shook my head. Luckily for her, I was going to be a doctor someday, and I had been brushing up on my chropractioner's manual. Even so, this was puzzling. Very puzzling. Somehow, I managed to help her bend, twist and turn her way out of it, sometimes gently guiding her limbs with my hands. As I touched Usagi, I was barely able to pretend that I didn't know her in civilian life, fake that there was no electricity shooting up my spine. As I felt her pulse racing, I had to suppress the desire I felt, the wish that the gloves were off, so I could feel the softness of her creamy skin. "There," I breathed. "You should be able to move now."
Looking down at the ground, she moaned loudly. "I am NEVER doing yoga again!" As she looked up, she gasped softly.
"What is it?" I asked.
"N-nothing," she stuttered. "Well, thanks for your help."
"Any time," I said, starting towards the window, even though every part of me wanted to stay and hold her in my arms.
As I left, I heard a whisper, so soft that it was barely audible, "Goodbye, Mamoru."
'She sounds like Sailor Moon,'I thought, then I shook my head at the craziness of the half-formed idea. Dashing over to my apartment, I dismissed Usagi's farewell as part of my imagination. I mean, only if she was a Sailor Senshi she would be able to know that I'm...
My thoughts were interrupted as I saw my reflection in a puddle of water, and I knew that I hadn't been imagining anything. My mask had fallen off, and there was no denying that Usagi wouldn't be able to identify the man behind it. But something in the way she had dismissed me confirmed my half-baked hypothesis, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Sailor Moon was none other than Tsukino Usagi.
by Lady Aishiteru
Chapter 3 - Minako's Solution
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. But I will...and then I shall RULE THE WORLD! MWA HA HA HA HA!
Real Discliamer: *ahem* I don't own Sailor Moon. And I never will. Well, except a few manga, anyways.
Lady A: Please excuse the "disclaimer..." I was drunk on power and Diet Pepsi. Well, maybe just the Pepsi. ^_^ I'll be you thought I was going to do Makoto's solution, didn't ya? NO DICE! Hee hee...just kidding. I got this idea in my head two days ago and I just HAD to write it down. Here, for your reading pleasure, is how the goddess of love likes to relax. Enjoy!
'So much homework,' I thought to myself. I had rested my head on my arms in Ms. Haruna's class, and do you know what that sadist thought would perk me up? Extra homework! She had bubbled on and on like a madwoman about the beauty of English literature until my head started to hurt. I mean, geez! I don't even LIKE English! Well, not as much as SHE does. But I don't think ANYONE could like John Steinbeck as much as her, well, not any sane person, anyways. I mean, the guy made a big deal about his dog, Charley's "saluting" of a redwood! And I would be a happy, happy girl without knowing that, if Ms. Haruna hadn't made me read Travels With Charley: In Search of America, as well as saddling me down with Grapes of Wrath and Of Mice and Men, to be finished by next Monday. And it was already Wednesday, so I didn't have time put things off.
I pondered my literary dilemna en route to the Arcade, my nose in Of Mice and Men. I was trying so hard to make sense of the southern American dialect that I was unaware of what was going on around me. 'Bindle...stiff? What the heck is a bindle? Gotta get out my English to Japanese dictionary...' I thought. I was mentally tracking the location of the dictionary in my bookbag when something big, hard and fast knocked me flat on my butt, scattering my books all over the sidewalk.
I rubbed my head and tried to move off the sore spot on my bottom, but it was no use...I wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for awhile. I started to get up on my own, but was greeted by a large, slender, yet powerful hand and a deep voice. "Are you okay? Here, let me help you up."
'I know that voice,' I thought, and just as it was about to register in my overloaded brain, I was face to face with Mamoru. Mumbling under my breath, I accepted his hand and got up.
"Usagi? Is that you?" he asked.
I tilted my head to the side. Was he feeling okay? Of course it was me! "Yeah."
"I almost didn't recognize you, with your head in a book. Are you sure you're not hiding a manga in there?" he asked.
I scoffed. "What, you don't think I'm smart enough to read a book without pictures?" I asked. Granted, I didn't think Steinbeck was all that good, but I didn't want my intelligence insulted either. Not today. I picked up Travels With Charley, turned it over so the pages were facing him, and flipped slowly though them so he would know that I wasn't hiding any manga. "Here, see for yourself," I said, handing the book over for his inspection.
He adjusted his glasses and smilied his half-grin, the way he does whenever someone amuses him. "Wow. Steinbeck. I didn'd take you to be a fan of American literature," he said
"I'm not. From what I've read so far, he travels around in a cabin attached to a truck, talks about seeing his wife for half the novel but won't discuss the actual visit, and he has an odd fetish about his stupid dog. I think he's a big windbag."
He laughed, the kind of laughter that was with me, not against me, which was nice for a change. "He's different, I'll give you that."
"So where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"The Arcade," he said. "I haven't found any cafe' in Tokyo that makes better java. Want some help carrying those books?"
"Nah, I've got it," I said, feeling a strange thumping in my chest. Why was he being so nice? He was acting almost like a gentleman. Almost like a guy would treat his...
"I insist," he said, interrupting my thoughts with that slow, sexy grin of his. SEXY?! He is NOT sexy! He is the biggest jerk in all of Tokyo! He cannot be sexy! I thought, groaning.
"Geez, I must have hit you harder than I thought."
"Eh heh heh," I said, blushing profusely. He had no idea. I switched the subject. "So what's with this 'java' craze? Are you addicted to the stuff?"
"Everyone has their vices. I can think of worse habits than an...occasional...cup of cappucino."
"Last time I saw you down five," I pointed out. "Is something wrong?"
He sighed. "You could say that."
"Been up late at night?" I asked.
"How did you guess?" he asked, laughing weakly.
"Those circles under your eyes," I said, reaching up as if to touch them.
"Yeah. I haven't been sleeping well. By the way, how did that thing Rei suggested work out for you?"
I groaned. "Don't remind me!"
"I'm guessing it didn't work," he said. I told him about the mishap with the CD player, but I left out the part about Motoki's parents seeing me naked. By the time I was done, we had reached the Arcade, and he had his arm linked through mine. I had no idea how it got there, but I had to admit, I liked it.
"Hey, guys," I said, walking through the door.
"Hey, Usagi," said Minako. "I was just talking to the girls. I have a great idea for tonight. It'll have you sleeping like a baby in no time."
"GUYS!" I mouthed, turning red. I didn't need anything else for Mamoru to be able to tease me about, even if I wasn't sure he would.
"Sorry," said Minako. "Anyways, have you heard about yoga?"
"Yogurt?"
"No, yoga. It's all the rage. You put your body into certain...positions." She took a book out of her purse and waved it around for emphasis. "According to that guy in the bookstore, who does NOT look like Makoto's old boyfriend," she said, elbowing Makoto, "this will make you feel relaxed."
I laughed. "Come on, Minako. These positions look really painful. How can any human being do that?"
"Stretch out first," said Ami. "Otherwise, you could contract your muscles."
"Huh?"
"She means you cold hurt yourself," said Mamoru, who was still standing next to me.
"Oh."
After work, which seemed especially exhausting today, I drove straight home. Once inside, I shucked my clothes and changed into my favorite bathrobe and slippers. Laying back on the couch, I turned on the TV with the remote and prepared myself for an evening of vegetation. Clicking through the channels, I sighed. I should have known there wouldn't be anything good on at this hour,' I thought.
Soon, a panic broke though my boredom. Sailor Moon's in trouble! I thought, sensing her fear through our psychic link. I transformed and was out of the door as fast as my tired body could muster.
I tracked the link all the way to a medium sized house in the Juuban district. 'Strange. It's so quiet.' Youmas are big, ugly and usually scantily clad - and about as subtle as a drunken bear. But I didn't see, or hear, any signs of trouble; I only had Sailor Moon's growing fear to guide me to the source of the problem, a second floor room around the back of the house. I climbed up the tree and looked through the window, expecting to be caught in some strange, youma crime spree, and Sailor Moon right in the middle of it.
But there was no youma, and no Sailor Moon either, at least I didn't think so. It was Usagi, fixed in a strange and uncomfortable looking position in the back of her bedroom. Raising my eyebrow behind the domino mask, I tapped on the window. "Are you all right, miss?" I asked, wondering why the psychic link strengthened as I came closer.
"No, I'm not all right, you dolt! I'm stuck!"
I wanted to collapse on the floor and laugh hysterically. Me, the dashing, masked superhero of Tokyo, was summoned out of my cozy apartment, dragged via psychic link all the way to this stupid 'burb just to get Usagi un-stuck? She was resting on her arms, her legs somehow were raised over her head and bent at the knee, looking like a human pretzel. And I'M supposed to be the 'dolt?' Mumbling about eating too many pieces of pizza, I crept closer.
"What was that?" asked Usagi, who bent her knees slightly, enabling her to look at me face to face. "Oh, Tuxedo Mask! I didn't recognize you."
"Apology accepted," I said indulgently. "Now explain exactly how you got yourself..." I said, tapping my chin, "stuck like that."
"I was doing these yoga excercises in this book my friend gave me, and I wanted to try the one on page 35," she said, gesturing with her head towards the book. "It looked really cool."
I shook my head. Luckily for her, I was going to be a doctor someday, and I had been brushing up on my chropractioner's manual. Even so, this was puzzling. Very puzzling. Somehow, I managed to help her bend, twist and turn her way out of it, sometimes gently guiding her limbs with my hands. As I touched Usagi, I was barely able to pretend that I didn't know her in civilian life, fake that there was no electricity shooting up my spine. As I felt her pulse racing, I had to suppress the desire I felt, the wish that the gloves were off, so I could feel the softness of her creamy skin. "There," I breathed. "You should be able to move now."
Looking down at the ground, she moaned loudly. "I am NEVER doing yoga again!" As she looked up, she gasped softly.
"What is it?" I asked.
"N-nothing," she stuttered. "Well, thanks for your help."
"Any time," I said, starting towards the window, even though every part of me wanted to stay and hold her in my arms.
As I left, I heard a whisper, so soft that it was barely audible, "Goodbye, Mamoru."
'She sounds like Sailor Moon,'I thought, then I shook my head at the craziness of the half-formed idea. Dashing over to my apartment, I dismissed Usagi's farewell as part of my imagination. I mean, only if she was a Sailor Senshi she would be able to know that I'm...
My thoughts were interrupted as I saw my reflection in a puddle of water, and I knew that I hadn't been imagining anything. My mask had fallen off, and there was no denying that Usagi wouldn't be able to identify the man behind it. But something in the way she had dismissed me confirmed my half-baked hypothesis, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Sailor Moon was none other than Tsukino Usagi.