Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to review and share a little love with me! They are so so appreciated, you have no idea.
As always, I can't thank FloraOne enough for her help, both with this chapter and the overall story. A lot of this is coming out in a mental snarl, and she's helped point out the places where I need stronger transitions, helped tremendously with the flow, and keeps sending me great resources to fill out cultural context and help me battle writer's block!
Also whoops, looks like maybe we've stumbled into the actual plot… Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 3 – You've been out and about with some other girl
Fuck fuck fuck fuck!
Usagi doubled back to snatch up the shoe that she'd just accidentally run out of as she'd dashed down the street. Despite leaving her apartment with tons of time to spare, she'd fallen asleep on the Metro and missed her stop – because of fucking course she had – and now the grown-up watch she'd bought specifically to wear to recruiting appointments said she only had twenty minutes to get from Azabujuban to Bunkyo City or she was going to be late and blow her big important interview at International Social Services Japan.
Slipping her foot back into the short-heeled black pump, she quickly checked over herself – it wouldn't make the best impression if she managed to make it on time, but in doing so she accidentally ruined her hairstyle or sweat through her nondescript recruit suit. As was customary, she'd pulled her miles of hair back into a sleek chignon – employers didn't like to see personality from their new recruits – and skipped putting on any jewelry, keeping her makeup subdued and natural. Her hands found everything to be as she expected, and once she was certain her shoe was securely on, she resumed her trek, this time at a more sedate jog.
But after only one more block, her steps faltered almost without her noticing.
She stopped, staring across the street – Mamoru stood there, wearing dark slacks and a button-down shirt, leaning casually against a lamp post.
He was talking to a girl. A girl who was even prettier than Rei.
And unlike the other night at Hiroo Miya, this girl wasn't laughing – Mamoru was.
She felt her jaw drop open, unable to stop herself from gaping. She knew Mamoru was attractive – there was a reason she kept falling into bed with him – but she'd never seen him quite so…
A gust of wind blew through his hair as he tilted his head back to laugh, the sunlight hitting in a way that made him glow.
...gorgeous.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the unwelcome thought. Big interview, she reminded herself. Bunkyo City. She couldn't be late. If she botched this, she probably wouldn't find anything else in her field before the deadline. She didn't have time to worry about Mamoru or that girl he was talking to.
She reached down, straightened the pencil skirt of her recruit suit, and turned her toes in the direction of the clinic.
But she couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from the softness of Mamoru's expression.
Something about it made her heart feel heavy, almost wistful.
When Mamoru and the girl said goodbye to each other and parted ways, she still stood paralyzed across the street, watching them.
Which was why she saw the way Mamoru's expression faded from the warm, beautiful smile to flat, unmoving wariness the moment he saw her.
"Odango."
The heaviness in her chest seemed to sink low, down deep into her belly.
"...I'm late," she mumbled, pointing her finger in the direction of Bunkyo City. "I have to go."
"Oh, do you…" His hands dug deep in his pockets, his eyes dropping to his toes. "I'm parked on the other side of the street. Do you need a ride?"
Her head shook violently even as she glanced over his shoulder, trying to figure out where the pretty girl had gone.
"Your bike would ruin my hair."
His jaw twitched. "It's my car, not my bike."
"It's not far," she lied, well aware that even at her fastest, she couldn't close the distance on foot in time to make her interview.
"Driving is still faster."
She didn't want to be trapped in a car with him. Already, her perfectly rehearsed interview responses were falling out of her head, and she couldn't imagine that closer proximity to Mamoru would help in the slightest.
"Odango, let me help."
Her fingernails dug into her palm. "Fine, but if we don't make it to International Social Services Japan in Bunkyo City by 3pm, you are in big trouble, mister."
He snorted, the cocky smirk she was so familiar with reappearing. But she wanted the smile.
"No problem," he said, his hand grabbing hers and dragging her with him to that shiny red sports car.
True to his word, Mamoru skidded to a halt outside the building at 2:59pm. She threw the car door open, forgetting to close it behind her, and dashed for the front door, briefcase in hand. She heard Mamoru's chuckles following her even after the door to the clinic had closed and the receptionist stood to greet her.
"Ah, Tsukino-san! Right on time, please have a seat and our director, Uchida-san, will be right out."
She bowed politely and slid into the proffered chair. The moment her butt hit the seat, she closed her eyes, struggling to clear her mind, to remove the lingering scent of roses and the stink of silence that clung to her from Mamoru's car.
Not fast enough. A door opened and a petite woman, her dark hair going a bit grey around the temples, stepped into the little lobby. "Tsukino Usagi?"
"Yes!" Usagi jolted to her feet, hoping her eyes weren't as wild as they felt, before dipping into her most polite bow.
The woman returned it, then gestured for her to follow her through the door. "I'm Uchida Sachio, director of operations here at International Social Services Japan."
"It's very nice to meet you, Uchida-san," Usagi said, trailing after the other woman and pulling a copy of her CV from her briefcase. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today."
The woman stepped behind a desk and gestured for Usagi to sit in a chair in front of it. "It's my pleasure. I hope the journey from Mita wasn't too bad."
"No, not at all," Usagi said, passing the CV across the table top before taking her seat. "The weather is very nice today," she croaked out awkwardly, and immediately flinched when she heard how high-pitched her voice sounded.
"So, Tsukino-san," said the older woman, her eyes skimming the piece of paper as she settled in behind her desk. "Why did you decide to pursue social work?"
She tried to remember the answer she had prepared for that question with her professors. Something about the collective good, and helping children grow up to be productive… something.
She squinched her eyes shut, then opened them again quickly when Mamoru's face, not her answer, came into focus.
"I want to help people," she blurted. "I don't believe that there are bad people in the world, just people who haven't been given what they need. So they try to take it in ways that hurt other people, and that just makes more people who haven't been given what they need. People learn to steal only because they've never known what it is to have enough. Kids engage in delinquency because their parents are too busy putting food on the table to give them the love and attention they need. I think social work – good social work, I mean, from people who really care – can help break that cycle. A good case worker can make sure that children and families experiencing homelessness have food and shelter and clothing, that orphans feel loved and taken care of, that refugees have a safe place and access to resources and healthcare. That's why I want to do it, to make sure that people in need can focus on taking care of themselves and each other instead of scrambling for basic things that everyone deserves."
The older woman's eyebrows were raised high behind the frames of her glasses. "That is an… interesting answer, Tsukino-san."
Usagi felt her cheeks burn under her layer of foundation. The very worst thing you could do during your shuukatsu was stand out.
"Oh, and, um, it also helps the collective good and creates, um, productive citizens?"
Uchida-san's lips quirked up. "Yes, I agree. Now then." She looked down at Usagi's CV, pursing her lips slightly. "I was hoping you could expand a little more on your CV. It says here that you have some experience volunteering with HandsOn Tokyo. What can you tell me about that?"
Again, her canned response had dribbled out of her head – was probably currently staining the leather upholstery of Mamoru's expensive car.
So, she smiled, tucked a tendril of hair that had escaped her chignon back behind her ear, and answered truthfully. "Oh. I started volunteering there during high school, and it's wonderful, really. I get to play with children and brighten the days of elderly people who have trouble leaving their homes. It's something where I get to actually see the good that I'm doing firsthand, do you know what I mean?"
"Tell me more about that."
She was so completely off-book. She knew every single one of her professors, had they been in the room with her, would be yelling at her to stop talking. To bring it back to polite, pre-rehearsed, emotionless answers. But she couldn't focus well enough to pretend to be professional right now. And if she stopped talking, then she might have to sit with her thoughts instead.
Her dangerous, uncomfortable thoughts.
So she prattled on, got way too honest, and completely, utterly destroyed her chances of ever being hired at International Social Services Japan. The sympathetic look in Uchida-san's eyes as she stepped out of the office only confirmed how badly she'd botched it.
And no wonder. All throughout, she'd just kept replaying his laugh in her head. The only time she got to see him laugh like that was when she'd just done something stupid, like walk into a telephone pole.
Who the heck was that girl? His girlfriend? Or just someone he wished was?
She didn't think he'd keep falling into bed with her of all people if there was some gorgeous girl like that who wanted him all to herself. Or maybe he was one of those Casanova-types, the kind of guy who would sleep with any girl who would have him – and it wasn't like a lot of straight girls would turn him down.
They weren't supposed to talk about that.
It was the whole point of their arrangement.
But no matter how many times she reminded herself that it was None Of Her Business, every time she closed her eyes she saw that laugh, the way his eyes had lit up and the apples of his cheeks creased.
Some possessive part of her wanted to bottle it, to drink it down so no one else could have his smile.
As she lay next to him that night, salty and spent, her heart beat with questions – How many other girls had he been with? Had he changed the sheets? Did he keep her around because she was any good, or was she just available?
She didn't ask.
Instead, her feet hit the floor and she padded into his kitchenette, brushing golden strands over her bare shoulder before pulling open the door of the fridge.
As always, the appliance was stuffed full, jammed with neatly stacked bowls of leftovers, an assortment of sauces and Ramune bottles in the door. Unlike her fridge at home, there was a rainbow of fresh vegetables stored in the crisper drawer, but she knew he also secretly kept a stash of candy bars in the freezer compartment.
Helping herself to the bowl of somen – he even labeled his leftovers, how could someone that nerdy be so hot?! – she paused to also grab a matcha Kit Kat and a strawberry Ramune before hip-checking the fridge door closed again.
Mamoru didn't even look up as she climbed back into bed next to him. His glasses were on and, as usual, he was engrossed in some thick hardbound book full of kanji she didn't recognize.
"Were you planning to share?" he asked mildly as he flipped a page, and she rolled her eyes and plonked the spare pair of chopsticks she'd swiped from the kitchen counter down in the crease of his book.
He smirked as he took them, actually deigning to meet her eyes for a change.
Was he this cold with the other girls? She shook the thought from her head, focusing all her attention to prying the lid off the glass bowl. She pointedly ignored Mamoru's snort when the silicone lid came free with a loud 'pop' and went flying across the room, settling neatly on the top of his dresser.
If that had been her tiara, he would have been impressed, she told herself primly, crossing her legs at the shins and slurping down a huge bite of chilled noodles.
As she wolfed down half the bowl, finally feeling like her limbs were working properly again after her earlier bone-melting orgasm, she felt the plush comforter under her thighs depress as Mamoru set the heavy book down, his wooden chopsticks dipping into the big bowl.
Remembering her manners – they were, after all, his leftovers – she folded her dirty chopsticks in a napkin and set to work unwrapping the candy bar instead.
After a moment or two, his even voice sounded over the rustling of her wrapper. "How's your shuukatsu going?"
"Oh god, don't ask," she muttered, snapping the Kit Kat in half.
The corner of his lips curled up. "That well, huh?"
She blew out a breath that made her bangs flutter before jamming the candy-coated biscuit into her mouth. "I totally tanked my big interview today. Like, it was really bad. If I even get a call back, it'll be because everybody else who interviewed turned them down and they couldn't get a random person off the street to take the job."
He snorted, booping her on the nose with the back of one of his chopsticks. "I'm sure it wasn't as bad as all that."
She made a face in reply. "You wouldn't understand, you've probably never had a bad interview in your life."
He shrugged one shoulder and slurped down another mouthful of noodles, making no effort whatsoever to dispute her accusation.
Irritably, she crammed the other half of the Kit Kat into her mouth, washing it down with a big swig of her soda. It was his stupid fault she'd tanked the damn interview, he could at least pretend to be sympathetic.
The silence lingered over them for a long beat, and then she sighed, fingers picking at the cloth napkin in her lap but finding no frayed threads to pull on. "…I think it might be time to just admit I'm not cut out for a real career and take the stupid secretary job Nippon Telegraph and Telephone offered me."
His smirk dropped as fast as his smile had earlier. "Why would you do that?"
She rolled her eyes. "Because, baka, people only hire new grads during shuukatsu. Maybe it wasn't a problem for you, but I don't want to miss my window and have to enter the job market a year late as damaged goods."
A crease appeared between his eyebrows. "You just interviewed today. At least wait to hear back from them before you make any life-altering decisions, Odango."
It was practical advice, and she knew it. It was the kind of advice Ami would give her – but Ami laughed with her. Ami was happy to see her. Ami was allowed to give her advice.
She rolled off of the bed, scooping her shirt from the floor and slipping it over her head.
"Mind your own business, Mamoru-baka."
AN: Thank you again for reading and I'd love to hear what you thought!