"Oh, I can't make up my mind! Does this dress make me look like I don't own Sailor Moon?"

A Name on a Stone

by Jessyca Thornbrook

Chapter 4: A Shake In The Eye

When Usagi entered the arcade the following Monday afternoon, Mamoru's well-intentioned resolve crumbled. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. The simple apology he had planned and rehearsed now seemed impossibly complicated. He couldn't do it. He'd say it wrong, he'd look like a fool, he'd insult her again, he'd be laughed at. He couldn't do it!

But he had to do something, didn't he? Or did it really matter that much? They were always fighting, anyway. He could just leave it, let things go back to normal. That would make the most sense...and yet, the very idea made his throat constrict and his stomach clench up.

No, he couldn't just leave it alone. But he couldn't just walk up and apologize, either. Especially not in front of all her friends, who were currently clustered around the counter, ordering drinks and snacks. Usagi was the last to order, since she was still wavering between ice cream and milkshakes while Motoki was waiting on the others. She finally decided on a chocolate milkshake, just as Motoki handed the last of her friends her order. The girls grabbed a booth near the back, and Usagi was left alone at the counter, waiting while Motoki got more ice cream out of the walk-in freezer for her milkshake.

This is it! Mamoru's mind told him. She's by herself. Go talk to her! He got up slowly and moved toward the counter. He stepped up behind her, opened his mouth to speak--and froze. The words just wouldn't come out. In a moment he would turn and flee for his life—or at least his dignity. He just wasn't cut out for making apologies.

Before the unfortunate Mamoru could summon the strength to retreat, however, Motoki returned, presented Usagi with a large chocolate milkshake, and then looked up in surprise at his friend. Mamoru realized he must look strange, looming over the girl with, he suspected, a less than brilliant expression on his face. While he was still thinking of possible explanations for his presence, Usagi decided to join her friends. In a single motion she turned and took a bouncy step, full of her usual energy and enthusiasm.

And the inevitable happened. Mamoru never thought to dodge. Usagi certainly didn't expect him to be there. And the poor, defenseless milkshake was caught in the middle. Literally. A pop! and skloosh! later, Mamoru's green blazer was liberally spattered with milky ice cream. Usagi took most of it in the face, and had apparently taken a breath just as the collision occurred, so she was now choking. Mamoru just stood there dazedly, so Motoki leaned across the counter and pounded Usagi on the back--not too hard, though. As the girl began breathing normally, Mamoru did regain enough presence of mind to hand her all the paper napkins within his reach--unfortunately, there weren't many.

Motoki quickly grabbed a damp towel from beside the sink and was about to go around the counter to help, but something made him stop. He handed the towel to Mamoru instead.

Mamoru tried to give it to Usagi, but her hands were full of soggy napkins, and she couldn't open her eyes without getting ice cream in them. She rubbed at them but only succeeded in making things worse.

"Here," Mamoru said finally, pushing her hands away from her face, "stop. Let me." He softly dabbed the ice cream from her eyelids, gently away from the corners of her eyes, and then continued carefully washing the rest of her face, finishing under her chin. Without his intent, the last stroke of the cloth tipped her face up toward his, just as she opened her eyes.

There it was again--that familiar feeling of connection. Why it should feel so familiar when it had only happened once before--to his knowledge--was a mystery that should be explored later, he thought dimly. All his thoughts were hazy, except the ones that focused on the pretty face looking up at him. When did she become pretty?

"Thanks," Usagi whispered after a long pause. The spell was broken, and Mamoru was suddenly aware that: a) they were standing very close and b) Motoki was watching with eyebrows raised so high they began to disappear into his hairline. Mamoru took a quick step back.

"Um, sure. No problem. It was my fault. Sorry," he stammered, eyes fixing desperately on an imaginary point somewhere over Usagi's left shoulder.

She took a long time to reply. Mamoru glanced back at her face, afraid she might be drawing breath for one of her trademark ear-splitting wails, but to his surprise, she was smiling.

"S'okay. No major damage." Her smile widened, then faded. "Sorry about your jacket." Mamoru looked down--he had forgotten about his own appearance. He swiped at the ice cream with the washcloth, then shook his head and shrugged off the blazer, rolling it up loosely, ice cream side inward.

"Well, I guess that's what washing machines are for," he grinned lopsidedly. Usagi giggled, then dropped her eyes quickly. "Uh, I'll buy you another milkshake," he offered awkwardly.

"Oh! Thanks. You don't have to or anything." Usagi felt her face grow warm for some reason. What's wrong with me? He only smiled, for crying out loud! She hoped she wasn't blushing.

"No, really, I--I owe you one." Something in his tone made her look up at him again. The strange insight that had struck her on Saturday was now telling her that Mamoru wasn't just talking about milkshakes. It's almost like...an apology? From Mamoru-san?

"Okay," she said uncertainly. His expression was relieved--almost happy, even. It looked good on him.

"One more chocolate milkshake, coming right up!" said Motoki, hiding a grin fairly ineffectively. Fortunately, neither of his customers seemed to notice.

"Thank you," said Usagi. She turned back to Mamoru, speaking carefully. "Thanks. Looks like we're even now." Does he understand?

He gauged her smile and the warmth in her voice.

"Yeah, I hope so." She understands.

At the other end of the arcade, Rei and Makoto were engaged an animated discussion of modern cinema. Ami had her nose buried in a textbook of alarming proportions, as usual. Minako had been actively siding with Makoto in the Legolas versus Aragorn debate, but for some reason she suddenly lost interest. She felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to look behind her. Obeying it, she witnessed what appeared to be the end of a conversation between Usagi-chan and...Chiba Mamoru? And no one was shouting? What goes on here? Motoki handed Usagi a milkshake, though it took a moment for him to get her attention. Usagi said something to Mamoru which looked like "See ya," and headed back toward their booth. Mamoru turned, watching her walk away. What's with that look? thought Minako, squinting. Ooh, I wish I was closer! Just then, Mamoru caught her eye, and she turned quickly back toward the table.

"Viggo's too old!" Makoto insisted. "He could be your father or something!" Her eyes went all starry. "Orlando's a much better age. And he's just so..." she paused, hunting for a sufficiently sublime adjective.

"Blond?" Rei suggested scornfully.

"He's not blond in real life! And anyway, what's wrong with blond?" Makoto defended her champion.

"What's wrong with a more mature guy?" countered Rei.

"Oh, come on! Usagi, what do you think?" Makoto asked. Usagi, who had just sat down, blinked at her.

"Huh?"

"Who do you like best? Legolas or Aragorn?" Rei demanded.

"Huh?" said Usagi again.

"Oh, never mind!" Rei rolled her eyes.

"How about you, Ami-chan?"

"I like Faramir," said Ami without looking up from her book.

"Wha-a-at?"

Minako had lost track of the argument. She was too busy studying the pink stains now fading from Usagi's cheeks as she sipped her milkshake. The Senshi of Love pursed her lips thoughtfully. I wonder...

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Ta-da! Most of this was written quite late at night, and all causes for criticism may be attributed to that fact.