Unwanted
Chapter 3
Rated: Angst
Set: First Season
Author: nat-chan
E-mail: natia_99@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: standard
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
be honest dear heart
broken and abashed
how can you still chase love?
without a drop of water
how dare you enter
the raging fire of love?
tell me foolish heart
what can I do with you?
Rumi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mamoru had spent the better part of three hours
ignoring the radio since his alarm had gone off.
Finally, with the sun insistently pressing through
the window, the bed covers growing too warm to enjoy
and the songs unbearably cheerful he reached out a hand
and smacked the offensive devise into 'off'.
He rolled out of bed and lay on the floor for a long
moment, still tangled in the bed spread. Finally
he pulled himself up and made his way to the bathroom.
He ignored the reflection that greeted him. It was
bleary and unshaven. His hair was getting long again,
hanging over his eyes. He had always prided himself
on a neat appearance. Now, looking rough around
the edges he looked young, for probably the first time
in his life. Though he felt old and weary.
He splashed cold water on his face and headed to the kitchen
to make coffee--but he was out. This was his only motivation
to leave the apartment. His phone flashed messages but he
ignored them. He would not have gone to school but it was march
break so he was not missing anything yet.
He threw on jeans and a t-shirt, stretched and baggy from so
much wear without washing. And he headed out into the bright
spring day. Motoki was waiting by the door, looking a little
haggard himself. He had obviously been waiting there a while.
He stood and Mamoru stopped. They regarded each other for a
long moment.
"Figured you had to come out sometime." Motoki said warily.
Mamoru looked at his longtime friend with something akin to
respect, "You're a good friend." He said hoarsely.
"But?" Motoki smiled faintly.
Mamoru looked away, "But there's nothing you can do."
"It seems there never is when something gets to you." Motoki said
quietly, "What happened?"
He joined Mamoru and waited for him to lead the way. Mamoru
finally started walking, "I just--found out some things that
made me rethink my life."
Motoki nodded, "Doesn't seem like it's for the better."
"It's not."
"What did you find out?"
Mamoru did not answer. Motoki waited. They reached the corner store.
And then Mamoru turned and gave a strange smile to his blond haired
friend, "You are, the only one who cares what happens to me."
Motoki took that in with some horror as he realized Mamoru did not
number himself among those who cared.
"I'm not the only one." Motoki said quietly, "And I shouldn't be."
Mamoru gave a bitter huff of laughter, "Doesn't matter how things
should be--haven't you noticed?"
Motoki struggled to handle things--what had happened? It was awful
whatever it was.
"I want to help." He offered innocently. It struck Mamoru then, the
innocence of it. Motoki was so untouched by pain.
"You can't help when I don't want you to." Mamoru snapped--suddenly
angry at how easy everyone else had it. What did they know? How could
they offer help, comfort, anything? He ran a frustrated hand through
his hair as Motoki reeled, taken aback.
"Give up Motoki, you don't need to bother about me anymore. I don't.
And no one else does either."
Motoki's eyes widened and he shook his head, "That's not true. I will
always care. And I'm not the only one. Usagi cares."
But Mamoru was ready for that, "Usagi cares about everyone."
But now Motoki turned the barb back on him, "Oh, I see, because
Usagi cares for everyone that makes her caring meaningless? It's
not specific enough for you?" His eyes narrowed perceptively, "If
that bothers you then it's not a matter of whether she cares for
you or not. It's a matter of how much you care about her."
Mamoru's face suddenly took on an assessing look. For a moment he
was his old self, taking in new information and working out what
it meant to him. Motoki watched and decided pushing him with a bit
of anger was most effective. It felt bad but if it was necessary
he was up to it.
"When you're done feeling sorry for yourself, I'll still be here
waiting to help." Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving
Mamoru to mull over his words.
He headed into the cornerstore, his heart suddenly heavy. He had hurt
Motoki. What did that mean? What was everything coming to?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dr. Mizuno slipped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his
nose wearily. Ami had come to recognize this as a sign that something
was bothering him. She slipped into his office with something
warm to drink and sat across from him. Various charts lay across
the desk.
"What's the matter?" She asked him gently.
"Nothing." Dr. Mizuno smiled and met her eyes. She held his gaze
until he finally chuckled, "Never was any fooling you."
She shook her head, "What are you looking over?"
He looked at the charts, "An old case. Very old now. Before you
were born. There was a little boy I treated who survived a horrible
car accident. His parents were both killed, he had no other relatives
living and he had amnesia. He has never remembered anything."
Ami's face turned horrified, "How awful. What happened to him?"
"He grew up in an orphanage and moved out on his own as soon as he
could. He's in High School now and doing very well I hear. Good
grades, high ambitions. I always wondered about him. A few
weeks ago we were contacted by a library in America that had some
of his mother's journals. They sent them to me and I looked him up."
Ami smiled, "Oh, her journals! That's wonderful! Finally, after
all this time."
Dr. Mizuno smiled, "I was very glad to give them to him. He looks
good. I hope they bring him some peace after all he has suffered.
That accident with the Chiba's...it was one of the worst I've ever
seen. And his amnesia is so severe. There was nothing I could
do to help him remember. He was so young and frightened. It haunted
me for a long time afterwards. I thought of him when you had your
sixth birthday. He was only six when I treated him."
He took a thoughtful sip of his drink, "Thanks." He said, nodding
to it, "You always know when I need one."
Ami smiled affectionately at her father. He was more than a Doctor.
And she loved him for it.
It wasn't until later, in the arcade with Usagi that the name 'Chiba'
finally struck a chord.
She found Usagi bent over an untouched soda, looking drawn and worried.
"What's the matter Usa?"
And Usa had fixed her with those wide eyes, alight with that depth of
sympathy Ami could not fathom. It was a quality Usagi alone possessed.
She looked at you that way and saw every hurt you had ever taken.
"It's Mamoru." Usagi said, "Something's bothering him but he won't
say what. He's flunking his tests and never comes into the arcade
anymore! Motoki is beside himself. Mamoru won't tell him what's
wrong! Motoki says he isn't leaving his apartment at all! I'm
so worried!"
Ami was speechless. Mamoru, Usagi's great enemy. But she could
see on her friend's face, the worry was biting into her. She
considered him a friend and felt for him.
Mamoru flunking tests? Ami knew something must be terribly
wrong. She knew what a great student he was. She heard about
the top scores posted at his High School. Chiba was almost
always the name at the top of the list.
Chiba....
Mamoru Chiba.
Ami suddenly turned very white and Usagi stopped short in her
own worryings, "What's wrong Ami-chan? Don't you feel well?"
"Oh Usa..." She said in horror. Something about those journals,
something had gone very wrong. But she could not say--could she?
It was confidential, the information a Doctor held on a patient.
But Mamoru had no one...no one but Motoki and Usagi...
"I want to tell you something, but I shouldn't, but I must."
Usagi was frightened to hear her friend so incoherant. Ami
always had it together.
"My father was the Doctor who treated Mamoru as a child." Ami told
her.
"What happened when he was a child?" Usagi asked quietly, a sense
of dread filling her.
"He was in a terrible car accident with his parents. They died
and he has amnesia. He can't remember them at all."
The colour drained out of Usagi's face, "Oh Ami..."
"He grew up in an orphanage and now he lives on his own. A few
weeks ago my father was contacted by an American library..."
She told Usagi of the journals. It timed back exactly to Mamoru's
sudden change.
"What was in them?" Usagi asked her. They should have made him
happy. They should have contained the lovely memories he
deserved to have. What had they held instead?
"I don't know." Ami shook her head helplessly, then she took Usagi's
hand, "You mustn't tell anyone--not even Motoki, ok?"
Usagi nodded, "I promise I won't."
Motoki came over to them at that moment, looking sad and defeated.
Ami left to find her father.
"I yelled at him." Motoki confessed, sitting down across from Usa.
"You yelled at him?"
"It was the only thing that got through to him. I said some awful
things to him. I don't know if I was right now...I just don't know."
He faced her, "I know he pushed you away, but will you try again? Maybe
you can reach him. I think he cares about you--he just won't admit it."
Usagi shook her head, "I can't go to him unless he asks for me--the same
as you." She took Motoki's hand, "What did he say?"
"He said no one cared what happened to him." Motoki repeated bleakly
and Usagi frowned.
Motoki met her frown with a bitter smile, "Apparently you and I don't
count."
Usagi was thoughtful. Ofcourse we wouldn't count, she thought, if
his parents are gone. She thought of his lonely childhood, all
the times he must have been afraid with no one to cling to. With no
memory to tell him how.
It overwhelmed her. She had always felt compassion for other people
but this was more. His pain cut into her as though it were her own.
It wrenched her and made her suddenly feel older than she was.
She went home that night and stayed up late, gazing out her window
and worrying for him. What was he doing right now? Whatever it
was he was alone. And suddenly, more than anything else in her life
she wanted to go to him. It was a powerful feeling that drowned out
everything. What did it mean? She was afraid to ask herself. It
was some kind of connection she felt to him. He was suffering, and
so, she suffered to.
And all she could do, was wait for him to ask for her...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3
Rated: Angst
Set: First Season
Author: nat-chan
E-mail: natia_99@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: standard
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
be honest dear heart
broken and abashed
how can you still chase love?
without a drop of water
how dare you enter
the raging fire of love?
tell me foolish heart
what can I do with you?
Rumi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mamoru had spent the better part of three hours
ignoring the radio since his alarm had gone off.
Finally, with the sun insistently pressing through
the window, the bed covers growing too warm to enjoy
and the songs unbearably cheerful he reached out a hand
and smacked the offensive devise into 'off'.
He rolled out of bed and lay on the floor for a long
moment, still tangled in the bed spread. Finally
he pulled himself up and made his way to the bathroom.
He ignored the reflection that greeted him. It was
bleary and unshaven. His hair was getting long again,
hanging over his eyes. He had always prided himself
on a neat appearance. Now, looking rough around
the edges he looked young, for probably the first time
in his life. Though he felt old and weary.
He splashed cold water on his face and headed to the kitchen
to make coffee--but he was out. This was his only motivation
to leave the apartment. His phone flashed messages but he
ignored them. He would not have gone to school but it was march
break so he was not missing anything yet.
He threw on jeans and a t-shirt, stretched and baggy from so
much wear without washing. And he headed out into the bright
spring day. Motoki was waiting by the door, looking a little
haggard himself. He had obviously been waiting there a while.
He stood and Mamoru stopped. They regarded each other for a
long moment.
"Figured you had to come out sometime." Motoki said warily.
Mamoru looked at his longtime friend with something akin to
respect, "You're a good friend." He said hoarsely.
"But?" Motoki smiled faintly.
Mamoru looked away, "But there's nothing you can do."
"It seems there never is when something gets to you." Motoki said
quietly, "What happened?"
He joined Mamoru and waited for him to lead the way. Mamoru
finally started walking, "I just--found out some things that
made me rethink my life."
Motoki nodded, "Doesn't seem like it's for the better."
"It's not."
"What did you find out?"
Mamoru did not answer. Motoki waited. They reached the corner store.
And then Mamoru turned and gave a strange smile to his blond haired
friend, "You are, the only one who cares what happens to me."
Motoki took that in with some horror as he realized Mamoru did not
number himself among those who cared.
"I'm not the only one." Motoki said quietly, "And I shouldn't be."
Mamoru gave a bitter huff of laughter, "Doesn't matter how things
should be--haven't you noticed?"
Motoki struggled to handle things--what had happened? It was awful
whatever it was.
"I want to help." He offered innocently. It struck Mamoru then, the
innocence of it. Motoki was so untouched by pain.
"You can't help when I don't want you to." Mamoru snapped--suddenly
angry at how easy everyone else had it. What did they know? How could
they offer help, comfort, anything? He ran a frustrated hand through
his hair as Motoki reeled, taken aback.
"Give up Motoki, you don't need to bother about me anymore. I don't.
And no one else does either."
Motoki's eyes widened and he shook his head, "That's not true. I will
always care. And I'm not the only one. Usagi cares."
But Mamoru was ready for that, "Usagi cares about everyone."
But now Motoki turned the barb back on him, "Oh, I see, because
Usagi cares for everyone that makes her caring meaningless? It's
not specific enough for you?" His eyes narrowed perceptively, "If
that bothers you then it's not a matter of whether she cares for
you or not. It's a matter of how much you care about her."
Mamoru's face suddenly took on an assessing look. For a moment he
was his old self, taking in new information and working out what
it meant to him. Motoki watched and decided pushing him with a bit
of anger was most effective. It felt bad but if it was necessary
he was up to it.
"When you're done feeling sorry for yourself, I'll still be here
waiting to help." Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving
Mamoru to mull over his words.
He headed into the cornerstore, his heart suddenly heavy. He had hurt
Motoki. What did that mean? What was everything coming to?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dr. Mizuno slipped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his
nose wearily. Ami had come to recognize this as a sign that something
was bothering him. She slipped into his office with something
warm to drink and sat across from him. Various charts lay across
the desk.
"What's the matter?" She asked him gently.
"Nothing." Dr. Mizuno smiled and met her eyes. She held his gaze
until he finally chuckled, "Never was any fooling you."
She shook her head, "What are you looking over?"
He looked at the charts, "An old case. Very old now. Before you
were born. There was a little boy I treated who survived a horrible
car accident. His parents were both killed, he had no other relatives
living and he had amnesia. He has never remembered anything."
Ami's face turned horrified, "How awful. What happened to him?"
"He grew up in an orphanage and moved out on his own as soon as he
could. He's in High School now and doing very well I hear. Good
grades, high ambitions. I always wondered about him. A few
weeks ago we were contacted by a library in America that had some
of his mother's journals. They sent them to me and I looked him up."
Ami smiled, "Oh, her journals! That's wonderful! Finally, after
all this time."
Dr. Mizuno smiled, "I was very glad to give them to him. He looks
good. I hope they bring him some peace after all he has suffered.
That accident with the Chiba's...it was one of the worst I've ever
seen. And his amnesia is so severe. There was nothing I could
do to help him remember. He was so young and frightened. It haunted
me for a long time afterwards. I thought of him when you had your
sixth birthday. He was only six when I treated him."
He took a thoughtful sip of his drink, "Thanks." He said, nodding
to it, "You always know when I need one."
Ami smiled affectionately at her father. He was more than a Doctor.
And she loved him for it.
It wasn't until later, in the arcade with Usagi that the name 'Chiba'
finally struck a chord.
She found Usagi bent over an untouched soda, looking drawn and worried.
"What's the matter Usa?"
And Usa had fixed her with those wide eyes, alight with that depth of
sympathy Ami could not fathom. It was a quality Usagi alone possessed.
She looked at you that way and saw every hurt you had ever taken.
"It's Mamoru." Usagi said, "Something's bothering him but he won't
say what. He's flunking his tests and never comes into the arcade
anymore! Motoki is beside himself. Mamoru won't tell him what's
wrong! Motoki says he isn't leaving his apartment at all! I'm
so worried!"
Ami was speechless. Mamoru, Usagi's great enemy. But she could
see on her friend's face, the worry was biting into her. She
considered him a friend and felt for him.
Mamoru flunking tests? Ami knew something must be terribly
wrong. She knew what a great student he was. She heard about
the top scores posted at his High School. Chiba was almost
always the name at the top of the list.
Chiba....
Mamoru Chiba.
Ami suddenly turned very white and Usagi stopped short in her
own worryings, "What's wrong Ami-chan? Don't you feel well?"
"Oh Usa..." She said in horror. Something about those journals,
something had gone very wrong. But she could not say--could she?
It was confidential, the information a Doctor held on a patient.
But Mamoru had no one...no one but Motoki and Usagi...
"I want to tell you something, but I shouldn't, but I must."
Usagi was frightened to hear her friend so incoherant. Ami
always had it together.
"My father was the Doctor who treated Mamoru as a child." Ami told
her.
"What happened when he was a child?" Usagi asked quietly, a sense
of dread filling her.
"He was in a terrible car accident with his parents. They died
and he has amnesia. He can't remember them at all."
The colour drained out of Usagi's face, "Oh Ami..."
"He grew up in an orphanage and now he lives on his own. A few
weeks ago my father was contacted by an American library..."
She told Usagi of the journals. It timed back exactly to Mamoru's
sudden change.
"What was in them?" Usagi asked her. They should have made him
happy. They should have contained the lovely memories he
deserved to have. What had they held instead?
"I don't know." Ami shook her head helplessly, then she took Usagi's
hand, "You mustn't tell anyone--not even Motoki, ok?"
Usagi nodded, "I promise I won't."
Motoki came over to them at that moment, looking sad and defeated.
Ami left to find her father.
"I yelled at him." Motoki confessed, sitting down across from Usa.
"You yelled at him?"
"It was the only thing that got through to him. I said some awful
things to him. I don't know if I was right now...I just don't know."
He faced her, "I know he pushed you away, but will you try again? Maybe
you can reach him. I think he cares about you--he just won't admit it."
Usagi shook her head, "I can't go to him unless he asks for me--the same
as you." She took Motoki's hand, "What did he say?"
"He said no one cared what happened to him." Motoki repeated bleakly
and Usagi frowned.
Motoki met her frown with a bitter smile, "Apparently you and I don't
count."
Usagi was thoughtful. Ofcourse we wouldn't count, she thought, if
his parents are gone. She thought of his lonely childhood, all
the times he must have been afraid with no one to cling to. With no
memory to tell him how.
It overwhelmed her. She had always felt compassion for other people
but this was more. His pain cut into her as though it were her own.
It wrenched her and made her suddenly feel older than she was.
She went home that night and stayed up late, gazing out her window
and worrying for him. What was he doing right now? Whatever it
was he was alone. And suddenly, more than anything else in her life
she wanted to go to him. It was a powerful feeling that drowned out
everything. What did it mean? She was afraid to ask herself. It
was some kind of connection she felt to him. He was suffering, and
so, she suffered to.
And all she could do, was wait for him to ask for her...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~