A/N
Hello lovely new and returning readers! This is the reposted, revised, hopefully final version of a story I've been working on since 2013. You don't want to know how many times I've edited and altered it, and I couldn't tell you, anyway. Ordinary World is the first arc of a Sailor Moon multiverse project called Celestial Warriors. This is a modern college/university, canon divergent, slice of life AU with slightly aged up characters featuring Senshi/Shitennou pairings. I am deeply grateful for comments and messages, and I try to respond to PMs in a timely manner. You can also check my profile page for more avenues of communication. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the story!
Use Somebody
Tsukino Usagi was not a morning person.
She would never wake up at the crack of dawn to go jogging along the waterfront with Makoto, no matter how many cute guys her friend claimed to pass. Saturday mornings were sacred; Usagi dutifully spent Friday nights getting all her homework done and deserved to sleep in. She had seven hours of classes every day and wanted to spend her weekends relaxing, not exercising. For her, that amounted to playing video games and consuming copious amounts of junk food.
Since their second year of middle school, Makoto had been telling Usagi that eating so much without burning off the calories was going to make her fat. Now college freshmen, Usagi's metabolism still hadn't gotten the memo, so Makoto spited it by using her culinary expertise to only make healthy food. Once she finished her jog and returned to the apartment overlooking Elliott Bay, she took a shower, got dressed, and began concocting a batch of gourmet waffles for her roommates. She didn't have to wait long for their savory scent to summon someone. Michiru drifted into the kitchen, and although her dark, wavy hair was a tangled mess, she still radiated elegance in a silk nightie. She poured coffee into a mug reading "my violin gives me superpowers" before sitting down to enjoy a stack of waffles with homemade syrup.
Michiru sighed around her first bite. "These are divine, Mako-chan. How do you do it?"
Makoto beamed. "You know what I say– food tastes better with quality ingredients! My secret weapons are vanilla bean, almond oil, and nutmeg."
Michiru hummed in satisfaction as Makoto returned to the griddle to make several more waffles to sate Usagi, but even the smell of rich blackberry syrup didn't rouse the blonde. Once Michiru finished her breakfast, she went into the bedroom her friends shared. Makoto's half was spotless and well-organized. Usagi's side of the room featured clothes strewn across the floor and a bookshelf cluttered with manga, video games, and action figures. Cords belonging to four different Nintendo consoles snaked around her bed, and there were empty containers from her midnight snacking tucked beneath it. "Good morning, Usa-chan!" Michiru cheered. Her amber eyes glittered with the hope that Usagi would wake peacefully, but she didn't even stir. The brunette then shook her shoulder. Again there was no reaction and she pursed her lips. Usagi was in fact awake and smirking into her pillow as she pictured her friend's vexation. She wasn't expecting the pillow to suddenly be yanked out from under her head, eliciting a surprised yelp. "Oh good, you're up," Michiru said sweetly before leaving.
"Breakfast is ready!" Makoto called. Usagi glanced at the alarm clock that read 10:07, groaning before abandoning the warmth of her comforter. She shuffled into the kitchen, plopped into a chair, and opened her mouth wide. "I'm not going to feed you," Makoto scoffed. "What are you, a baby bird?"
Usagi yawned. "It's too early to use utensils." Michiru reached over to pinch her arm and she swatted at the manicured hand.
"It looks like you have plenty of energy to use a fork." The morning dreariness fell off Michiru as soon as she finished her coffee, revealing the vigor in her eyes. "Thank you for breakfast, Mako-chan. I'll pick up something for dinner on my way home so you don't have to cook again."
"Pizza!" Usagi shouted, perking right up. But her friends shook their heads and she pouted. Michiru then left the younger girls to their routine, retreating to her master bedroom. They ate in silence with occasional sighs of delight coming from Usagi, who downed six waffles to Makoto's two. "You're going to waste away if you keep working out so much and eating so little," the blonde remarked while gathering their dishes.
Makoto crossed her arms defensively. "It's only ten thirty. If you're really so worried about me, I'll have a big lunch." Her countenance softened. "What should we do today? We haven't ridden the Great Wheel yet, or the carousel at Westlake."
"Actually, I was thinking about giving this place a mini makeover." Usagi moved her hands in a wide arc to indicate the whole apartment. Since Michiru had moved to Seattle to attend Cornish College of the Arts, she'd been too busy with her job as a music tutor to really decorate. When Usagi and Makoto came to live with her in June they found jobs right away, but because they were now both students at the Art Institute, their hours had been reduced and their weekends could be spent exploring the Emerald City.
Using the black leather seating and moonlight white walls as a blank canvas, Usagi and Makoto browsed galleries and antique stores looking for décor to make their apartment feel less like a doctor's office. They purchased cheap vintage furniture and eclectic artwork that fit the bill, arranging for most of it to be delivered to the apartment on Monday. While taking a break in Pioneer Square, a poster caught Makoto's attention. "There's a horticulture fair at Bastyr University," she read aloud.
Usagi smiled at her friend's affinity for houseplants. "Where's that? Should we check it out?"
"Ooh, they're also hosting a community lunch featuring locally-grown produce!" That definitely meant they were going. The girls hopped on a bus to the University District, then transferred to another bus to Kenmore at the north end of Lake Washington. Makoto could barely contain her excitement when they arrived at the beautifully wooded campus featuring rows upon rows of plants and flowers.
"Now, Mako-chan, don't–" Usagi didn't get the chance to finish before the bus doors opened and Makoto flew down the steps. "–go overboard." She sighed and followed less energetically, but soon noticed how many cute guys were wandering around and donned a flirty smile. Usagi received a lot of double-takes for her unusual appearance, those surprised glances filling her with confidence and pride instead of the anxiety she experienced as a kid. She used to be mercilessly bullied for not appearing Japanese enough, often receiving descriptors of gaijin and occasionally konketsuji from peers and elders criticizing her corn silk hair and true-blue eyes. Thankfully, she had learned to love herself.
At the opposite end of the fair, Makoto was in botanical heaven. She told herself that she would return home with just three plants instead of enough to start her own nursery. Right away she fell in love with a huge yellow bromeliad in an attractive pot. The boy at the table locked eyes with her, summoning her with a megawatt smile. "How much?" Makoto asked.
"For you? Let me see…" Oh, she hated it when men tried to make decisions for her. Makoto refused to date in high school because she detested the way boys treated Usagi, always telling her what to do, how to act, and who to be. After they graduated, Makoto made the acquaintance of a college guy who worked at Crown Game Center. She and Motoki went on a couple of dates before calling it quits when the girls decided to attend university in America. Makoto opened her wallet and winced, a total ploy since she just got paid and had plenty of cash. "Does twenty work?" the boy suggested.
It was labeled $45. The glazed terracotta planter was probably worth that much on its own. "Twenty," Makoto agreed. Wearing a self-satisfied expression, she went in search of more bargains. She soon spied an array of orchids, gasping at a royal blue Vanda specimen. "How much is this?" she inquired.
The girl at the cash box appeared shocked by her eagerness. "Do you… know how to grow orchids?" Makoto nodded emphatically. "Huh, that's new. All morning people have been telling me they're so pretty but so difficult to take care of." The girl observed her bromeliad. "Tell you what– I'll let you pick any three for thirty bucks." She chose the Vanda, a peach Phalaenopsis, and a white Cattleya, walking off in a state of bliss. Makoto quickly realized how awkward it was to carry four bushy plants, setting them on a vacant table before she dropped one. Where was Usagi when she could make herself useful?
"Pardon, do you want some help with those?"
She turned around to face a broad, muscular chest. The man's sculpted pecs strained against his purple t-shirt reading "Fear the Dawgs". Makoto, considered Amazonian back home in Tokyo and tall for a woman in general, had to crane her neck to view his countenance. He was around her age; not a man at all, just some guy. He had auburn hair, deep brown eyes, and smooth bronze skin that people who artificially tanned would never achieve. He had wide, full lips, a sharp jawline, and his chin had a slight cleft, the whole of him presenting an image of typical masculine athleticism offset by a charmingly boyish smile.
"Sure, thanks," Makoto answered after her assessment. "You can carry these orchids for me." The guy faltered for an instant and she smirked, knowing he had expected the heavier bromeliad. She was no fragile maiden, her outfit simply concealed her muscle tone.
"Where to?" he asked, holding the delicate flowers out of harm's way.
"I need to find my friend," Makoto said. "She's a short blonde wearing a pink sundress." As an afterthought she added, "Her name is Usagi."
He nodded and glanced from side to side while following her through the crowd. "And what's your name?"
"Makoto," she replied.
"That's Japanese, right?" She hummed as a confirmation, not quite in the mood for small talk. The guy thankfully got the hint and trailed her in silence until they arrived at the main lawn. "I didn't see her. Did she go into the school?" Makoto had made that comment about lunch… and Usagi had a black hole for a stomach. Before she could suggest they head inside, the guy took a deep breath and bellowed, "Usagi, where are you?!"
Within moments Usagi emerged from the perennial booths, cautiously approaching the giant boy standing beside her friend. "There you are!" she said to Makoto. "I had no idea where you ran off to! Who's this?"
"Just an oke trying to help," he answered, grinning.
"I love your accent!" Usagi exclaimed. "Where are you from?"
Makoto frowned. "Usa-chan, we have accents. Don't be rude."
He shrugged. "It's aight. I'm from Johannesburg."
"Where's that?" Usagi asked. Makoto facepalmed; her bestie was terrible at geography.
"South Africa. And my name's Nicholas." His hand completely enveloped Usagi's as they shook.
"Great, good, terrific," Makoto griped. "It was nice meeting you, Nicholas, but we need to go. There's a bus we have to catch."
Usagi gave her friend a specific look. It said: "This guy is cute! If he's looking for plants you have something in common! You should give him your number."
Makoto's return look said: "Hell no."
The blonde narrowed her eyes and donned a small, devious smile. "So, Nicholas, do you have a last name?"
"Meyer," he answered.
"Do you live around here?"
He glanced down at his shirt. "You don't recognize the Huskies? I go to UW."
She giggled airily. "Sorry, I didn't know! We're new to Seattle."
"I see. Well, here comes your bus." Nicholas surrendered the orchids to Usagi and smiled amicably. "Nice meeting you both. Enjoy the sun while you can, it's rare this time of year." She nodded her thanks and watched him walk away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Makoto scowled at her.
"What was all that for? I just needed him to carry my plants."
Usagi rolled her eyes as they boarded the bus. "You can be such an ice queen sometimes! You didn't even know his name until I came along!"
"You made everything awkward when you came along," Makoto stated. "So what if he had an accent? What if he's self-conscious about it? Who cares where he's from or what school he goes to? Not like we're ever going to see him again."
Her last sentence was so pointed that Usagi knew it would be futile to keep discussing why Nicholas Meyer had serious boyfriend potential. He was handsome, tall, chivalrous, and clearly worked out. Makoto hadn't even given him a chance to grow on her! But Usagi would give her another one. She knew his full name and that he went to the University of Washington. She could find him in the student directory, get his email address, and contrive an opportunity for a second meeting.
'Someday Mako-chan will thank me for this!'
Chiba Mamoru liked eating at Amabie. It was a sushi bar and café that served a variety of artisanal teas instead of coffee like most places in Seattle, and he always ordered green tea with honey while doing research. One wall of the eatery featured an aquarium full of tropical fish and the others were decorated with nautical décor and classical Japanese artwork including woodblock paintings. Beach glass mobiles and glass float balls hung from the ceiling like treasures in a sea cave, providing a serene environment. Upon entering a graduate program, he had the misfortune of moving into an apartment complex with neighbors who liked to throw parties and blast annoying music every other weekend.
Amabie was south of the U District in a neighborhood called Montlake. Mamoru discovered the eatery by complete accident after someone in his research group told him about the Japanese garden in Washington Park. He became hopelessly lost after checking it out one day; he ended up crossing an entire golf course and walked into the café to ask for directions, but had dinner before returning to campus. He'd been a regular ever since.
At 14:30 Mamoru sat at his usual table working on his dissertation when the bells on the door jingled, and he surreptitiously admired the girl wearing a dark blue cook's uniform as she headed for the kitchen. She crafted the desserts in the cold case, miniature morsels that were works of art in their own right. Mamoru thought the girl looked more alluring than the edible pieces she created, deducing she was only half Japanese. Her skin had cool undertones instead of beige, she had wavy golden-brown hair, and her eyes were bright green in addition to lacking an epicanthic fold. She was also very tall, so Mamoru reasoned one of her parents was of Germanic or Scandinavian heritage. Genetics were an important aspect of Mamoru's program at UW, and it helped that he'd been interested since childhood. He liked guessing the origins of those around him, always quietly observing. Seattle offered a diverse range of people to study yet allowed him to remain incognito. He didn't stand out in any capacity but the dessert chef did, and he tried working up the courage to talk to her every day. He just didn't want to come off as a creep.
'Forget about her and get back to work,' he told himself, logic leading him away from imaginary scenarios. Mamoru resumed compiling arguments for and against vaccinations, a tiresome subject since rational people knew they were necessary for public health. Researching research was sometimes a task of its own because studies were supported by statistics and statistics could be manipulated to produce certain results.
"Whatcha reading?" someone asked from beyond his shoulder. Mamoru jumped in surprise and rotated to find one of the pretty waitresses smiling at him. "You gonna have something besides tea today?"
"I don't think so…" he answered, blushing when his stomach rumbled in protest. The waitress laughed and held up her notepad expectantly while Mamoru skimmed the menu. "I'd like the nigiri combo and another pot of tea, please."
"Combo number five," the girl repeated. After putting in his order the kitchen staff cheered, and whoever's media device was connected to the sound system started playing Lou Bega's 'Mambo No. 5'.
Mamoru smiled at the playful nature of their work environment and kept researching. When his food arrived he ate absentmindedly, engrossed by an article claiming the H1N1 virus had been artificially engineered for population control. Then he caught someone in his peripheral vision and turned from his laptop. The dessert chef walked by! Mamoru straightened and locked his eyes on her, tracking her to a booth across the room. She sat down opposite a girl with blonde, curled, shoulder-length hair. His focus shifted to this other girl, tracing the clingy fabric of her blue dress down her narrow torso to equally slender legs beneath the table. He wondered if she was a model. Then, in slight disappointment, he wondered if she was the dessert chef's girlfriend.
He checked the time and balked; it was past 18:00 already and he hadn't left his seat in three hours. Mamoru stood up, unable to restrain a groan as his joints unlocked. The cracks and pops were loud enough to draw the girls' attention and he froze in embarrassment. The brunette clearly judged him as a workaholic while the blonde looked sympathetic. Mamoru went to the restroom before meandering outside for some fresh air. It was late September and dusk was just about to surrender to full night. He returned inside and saw the blonde girl sitting at his table, approaching cautiously.
"My friend says you're a regular here and thinks you need a study aid." She gestured for him to sit down, smiling. "I ordered mocha mochi ice cream."
"Uh, thanks…" Mamoru managed, a bit dumbfounded. The girl was texting instead of looking at him. "But how can there be mochas when they don't serve coffee?"
"My friend makes it especially for the ice cream. Grinds her own beans and everything." She put her phone away and flashed a set of perfect teeth. "So, what's your name? Everyone's dying to know."
"Everyone?" Mamoru repeated in confusion. The girl's eyes flicked past him and he turned around to see the three female servers clustered behind the counter. They giggled and started whispering to each other as Mamoru faced forward again, blushing. "I'm, uh, Chiba Mamoru," he said. If he paid with a card they would've known that, but he preferred to carry cash.
"Nice to meet you, Chiba-san," she chirped. "I'm Tsukino Usagi. For future reference, the girls who work here are Rachel, Cammy, Jessica, and Makoto."
That last name stood out. "Makoto… Is she your friend, the dessert chef?"
Usagi's eyes widened before she laughed, the sound a fairy would make. "How'd you know that? She's not a pastry chef yet, but that's why she's going to the Art Institute. I go there, too– I'm studying fashion merchandising." She leaned forward, surveying his spread of papers and textbooks. "So, what are you working on?"
"Oh, this? It's my dissertation, PhD research. I'm in my fifth year of the medical scientist training program at UW," he explained.
"Ooh, so you're a doctor?"
Mamoru smiled a little at her impressed tone. "More of a lab technician, but I know some advance first-aid." They chatted for a while about their respective areas of study, with many more questions coming from Usagi about biology which Mamoru gladly expounded upon. Eventually, the server named Rachel delivered their ice cream. There wasn't really anything mochi about it other than the fact that Makoto used rice milk to make it. "This is good," Mamoru commented after a few bites. "The consistency is like gelato but lighter."
"I've never tried that," Usagi said, turning the spoon upside-down in her mouth.
"You've never had gelato?" Mamoru was aghast; it was one of his only vices. "I have to show you this Italian bistro downtown. Their gelato is the best and they serve delicious authentic food."
Usagi grinned around her spoon. "Okay, it's a date." She blanched. "I don't mean a date, I just met you!" She tittered as Mamoru regarded the table bashfully. 'Way to make it awkward, Dumb Bunny!'
He focused on scraping up every bit of ice cream. "Uh, how long has Makoto been working here?"
"Since June. As soon as we moved in with our other friend, we went job hunting. This place was a little farther than Mako-chan wanted to commute but the owners were really impressed with her cooking skills. They hired her on the spot!"
June, huh? Too bad he only discovered Amabie last month. "Where do you work?" Mamoru questioned next.
Usagi looked extremely pleased with herself. "I got hired at Nordstrom. My employee discount is so awesome and I'm, like, right in the middle of the fashion center. There's Anthropologie nearby, Juicy Couture, Louis Vuitton, AllSaints, Nordstrom Rack of course…" She trailed off upon noticing Mamoru's blank expression and better examined his attire. His black anorak was at least a size too large, and the plain grey t-shirt beneath was a V-neck when a crew neck would suit him better. His jeans were too baggy as well, and he didn't wear a single accessory. What a travesty that Mamoru didn't seem to possess an ounce of fashion savvy. His face was one that brands would fight each other for representation, his noble, regal features formed by sharp, symmetrical angles and deep shading. His eyes were especially gorgeous. Usagi glanced at her phone to check the time and realized it was almost 19:00, the end of Makoto's shift. "Oh, I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Chiba-san. I'm glad I decided to talk to you."
Mamoru sat there for a moment. On the one hand, he was saddened that he hadn't even exchanged a greeting with Makoto, but on the other, Usagi had been easy to converse with. He generally avoided interacting with complete strangers yet had readily opened up to her. "It was nice meeting you too, Tsukino-san. I won't forget about our gelato date." The corner of his lips turned up in hopes that she'd laugh. Instead, her cheeks flushed and her bright blue eyes lowered to the floor. That bubbly exterior had faded a little; was Usagi embarrassed by the thought of hanging out with him? Or, maybe, was she blushing because he'd made a good first impression for once and she actually looked forward to going out with him?
There was nothing physically remarkable about Mamoru. He was tall but spindly, and a few peers harassed him about his weight because he didn't take breaks to eat; he only had two square meals, rarely three, per day on weekends. He didn't consider himself handsome in any regard, although he was proud of his unusual eyes. They were sapphire blue, dark and enigmatic. Usagi met them when Makoto tugged on her arm, anxious to get home. "I can't wait for it," she said shyly. Mamoru fell back in his seat after they left, unaware he'd been sitting on the edge. He glanced around and saw that he was the only customer left in the café, so he gathered his things and headed home.
His lab began early but he couldn't sleep. Mamoru paced his apartment in Radford Court, replaying his interaction with Usagi dozens of times. He didn't know her number so he couldn't call and work out the details of their date, and the more he internally said that word, the more anxious he became. He barely had any experience in the dating department having gone out with exactly one girl in high school. That relationship lasted five months before she got fed up with the fact that Mamoru wanted to study instead of spend time with her. Only a loser like him would choose homework over "hanging out" while her parents were on vacation.
He was older but hardly wiser when it came to this ritual. What should he wear? Fashion was clearly important to Usagi but Mamoru thought it was trivial. He couldn't drive her around because he didn't own a car, thus forcing them to depend on public transportation. Did she expect him to hold doors and pay for everything? What if she wanted to hold his hand while they walked around? Should he kiss her at the end of it all? Mamoru's spiral was interrupted by a knock at the door; opening it revealed another grad student who put his physique to shame. The guy tried glaring at Mamoru but his eyes were too laden with slumber. "Dude, it's two in the morning. I've been listening to you walk around through my ceiling for hours. Could you go to sleep already?"
"I'm really sorry," Mamoru sputtered, "I'm just really nervous about a date I have with a really pretty girl." He didn't care how pathetic that made him sound.
The guy actually smiled. "I see, congratulations. But baggy eyes will make you look bored and uninterested in this girl." He pointed at his own and gave a self-deprecating chuckle. Mamoru nodded and closed the door, feeling guilty about disturbing someone. He was just as inconsiderate as his bass-happy neighbors.
It was times like this he wished for an older brother to give him advice, or even a father figure. He'd been orphaned at the age of eight after his parents died in a car accident, and he couldn't remember them or his own name upon waking up in the hospital. Doctors and police officers kept repeating things until he accepted them as the truth, but deep down he always wondered if he really was Chiba Mamoru. No extended family members had shown up to become his guardian so he lived in an orphanage for a few years until being adopted by a wealthy gentleman. He was Tsukishima the Benefactor; he didn't want to be called Dad, Father, or referred to by his family name. He wasn't really involved in Mamoru's life at all besides paying for everything he needed. The Benefactor bought whatever he wanted, mostly books and toys in his youth, then sent him to a prestigious middle school even though he had mediocre test scores. The Benefactor paid for night school courses so Mamoru could test into an even more elite high school. People on the streets had stared at his uniform, admiring his presumed genius from afar.
Mamoru was very knowledgeable regarding mental medical matters due to his obsession with trying to reverse his amnesia. He had read everything on the subject and even flew around the world to meet with experts. The last doctor he visited regarded him rather pityingly and said that if his mind wanted to regain its lost memories, it would do so of its own accord; there was no way to force them to come back. Therapy hadn't worked. Hypnosis hadn't worked. Mamoru had even gone on spiritual journeys with the help of questionable substances, none of which freed his mind as promised, so he gave up after high school. He realized that if he kept trying to obtain the impossible, he'd drive himself insane. Even though he was pursuing a PhD, he didn't desire it as much as he wanted to cure his amnesia. Hopefully, he could put his accumulated knowledge to good use and develop a cure for some debilitating mental disease.
'I'm a complete basket case,' Mamoru thought as he attempted to get comfortable in bed. 'I have no business trying to go on dates like an average guy. I should just forget everything about Usagi.' But try as he might, he couldn't dismiss the way she had smiled at him. That smile seemed to light up his entire life, banishing the shadows that usually encroached upon his mind when he slept. For the first time in a long while, he dreamed peacefully.