Ever since his accident, every miserable day has been much the same for Mamoru Chiba. The lone exceptions are his birthdays. But only because they're just a little bit more miserable… Mixed Manga/Anime canon. Written for Mamoru's Birthday 2021.

Rated: T - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Words: 1,359 - Mamoru C./Darien S./Tuxedo Kamen

A/N: Many, many, many thanks to my beta jubblesbubbles!

You can find her at on Ao3 as: /users/Jubbles

Or check out her FFN account: u/1401129/JBubbles

And she is also on tumblr under the name jubblesbubbles

The boy stared down at the thin white cardboard, his thumb pressing into the centre of the fold.

The inside was completely blank sans the sparse words written in pen. The formality at the start gave away just how little care had been put into the message:

Dear Mamoru Chiba

Despite his amnesia, he was pretty sure whoever wrote the card wouldn't have used his full name. Not if they'd really cared. Not if it was written with any kind of sincerity.

His eyes focused upon the name.

Mamoru Chiba

The name still filled him with doubt.

He didn't feel like Mamoru Chiba.

What did that feel like anyway?

Warm? Safe? Not like you're living your life missing one of your arms?

Mamoru Chiba wouldn't have walked around filled with doubts, would he? He'd have been certain about who he was. He'd have been certain there were at least two people who'd always be there. He'd have been certain that those people actually cared about him.

Mamoru Chiba was gone.

He died in that car crash with his parents.

So, who was he? What was he?

Just a husk, he supposed.

An empty… lonely… husk…

He closed the card, placed it on the nightstand and dimmed the lights.

Unfortunately, he just couldn't drift off to sleep. And, since he didn't like sleeping in the dark, he was annoyingly aware of the card out of the corner of his eye. Frustrated, the boy eventually leaned up in the bed and reached for the card.

He placed it facedown, obscuring the obnoxiously large number '7' printed on its front.

He'd heard that the first two years were hardest when you were grieving.

As it turned out, he was an exception.

The fourth year since the accident was starting out just as empty as the first three. It wasn't helped by the absence of some familiar faces from the orphanage.

There'd been a time when Mamoru had truly believed that someone might want him. He'd even thought his amnesia might be to his advantage.

Parents looking to adopt tended to prefer younger children, preferably babies. He presumed that was because they came with less baggage, so the child could feel more like it their own. He'd hoped that prospective parents might look upon him as a blank slate for them, a child they too could call their own because he didn't know anything about himself. All he had was a photo, a locket, and a broken pocket watch. But beyond those things, he was nobody.

As it turned out, his theory was flawed.

On his good days, he figured he was just unlucky. On his less than good days he theorized that the orphanage informed prospective parents of his history and it simply scared them off. And on his worst days… On his worst days, he tried to concentrate on something else.

Today was one of those days. That was why he was hanging around the singular rose bush on the orphanage grounds. For whatever reason, the flowers provided a meager comfort for Mamoru.

He picked up one of the flowers that had fallen from the bush, carefully avoiding the thorns. There was little point in taking it back inside; it was on its way out. Examining it more closely he noted, with irony, that it had just ten petals left. He gently plucked each one of them before returning to the main building.

Vaguely, he wondered if next year he'd find another rose with eleven petals.

The bright balloons lightly bobbed on their strings.

The flames danced hypnotically atop the cake.

Everyone laughed as they tried, poorly, to sing in unison.

Cheers and applause erupted as the candles were extinguished.

Mamoru smiled. But only briefly.

This wasn't the first time this had happened of course. You might want to mind your own business, but you couldn't help it if someone else around you wanted to celebrate. And in a city as big as Tokyo it was inevitably somebody's birthday. Today, Mamoru simply had the misfortune of picking the wrong parlor on the wrong day at the wrong time.

In the past, whenever he was in such a situation, Mamoru had found it hard to concentrate on whatever he'd been doing. Eventually though he'd learned to just give up. Nowadays, he coped by making a game out of subtly spotting details that'd otherwise go unnoticed.

Today he'd been amused that, despite how young the birthday boy was, the icing on his cake read '91'. Or at least it did from Mamoru's angle. The partygoers were gathered around one of the tables whilst he was nursing a juice from the other side of the parlor.

Of course, he knew what the cake actually read. The sheer irony of it almost made him smile again. Instead, he abandoned the rest of his drink and swiftly departed the parlor. Once outside, he reprimanded himself for even caring. After all, taking an objective and detached look at his life, he was more fortunate than most.

He went to a good school.

He was on track for his chosen career as a doctor.

He didn't have to worry about his finances.

He had an apartment all to himself.

And his own name had come to feel less like it belonged to a stranger.

Alright, it wasn't perfect. He'd still been having those weird dreams. He'd continued to be haunted by a nagging sense of waiting. And his nightlife wasn't exactly typical for a boy his age.

But really, he shouldn't complain. So what if he was one of the few people who didn't do anything special for himself once a year. So what if he didn't have…

He caught sight of the party again, this time through the parlor window as he'd been leaving. They were already halfway through the cake, but the party didn't seem to be winding down at all. Mamoru recalled overhearing talk of them heading onto somewhere else in a little while. The other five partygoers were around the same age as the birthday boy. Mamoru wasn't sure how popular that made him. Should that be considered a low turnout? Or had he only wanted his closest friends to be there? In any case, the girl hanging on his arm seemed more than just a friend.

Despite himself, Mamoru permitted his imagination to get the better of him. He was sitting in the birthday boy's seat. He was reading his own name in the cake's icing. He was drinking in the cheer from the partygoers, lavishing their company. The fantasy to continued for another few seconds before he took a breath and carried on down the street.

He'd considered staying at home today. Now he regretted that he hadn't. He would do that next year though, and the year after that too.

For a moment he pictured turning eighteen. A life milestone, at least it was for most people. It wouldn't be for him though.

If he were unlucky, it'd be like today and his first birthday; or more accurately the first he could remember. If he were less unlucky then it'd be more like his tenth birthday, and most of his birthdays since leaving the orphanage.

He didn't bother imagining what it'd be like if he was actually lucky. He didn't even dare. He'd done that before on other years and knew it'd just upset him. Birthday or not, why torture yourself by wishing for something that would never happen?

No. Better to simply resolve himself to reality. His eighteenth, and probably every birthday thereafter, would be marked by no one.

Not even himself.

A/N: Just to let you know I am involved in a discord called 'Moonlight Legends' which is dedicated to sharing all sorts of Sailor Moon fanworks, including other fanfics. If you would like to join so you can share your own work, get help with your current projects or just connect to other fan creators shoot me a PM and I'll send you an invite. All are welcome!