Usagi

I was sick of waiting.

For years, all I did was wait. While everyone else moved on with their lives I was still stuck, hoping that one day I might wake up and things would be different. But they never were. They were always the same.

And on this particular day, I was extremely pissed off about it. Most people know me for my sunny—albeit somewhat aloof—disposition. After all these years, though, of waiting, I was afraid I had become a bit jaded.

My fingers drummed across the surface of the countertop at my work. Since starting community college, I worked at a manga store to make ends meet. Not that I really needed the money: I was still living with my parents and Mamoru was well on his way to becoming a doctor. He was going to make enough money for the both of us, and so I was just biding my time until we could begin that chapter.

When I turned 18, Mamo promised it wouldn't be long. How many times had I heard that line? I cried and whined and begged and pleaded. That's what started to crack me. It started as a small, jagged line across my soul; an immature need to be validated constantly and consistently. But as time passed it created a deep trench filled with bitterness and embarrassment that extinguished my girlish naivete.

Back when I was Sailor Moon, I felt like I had this deep connection to myself and to my community. Sure, I was klutzy and a bit of a crybaby, but I also had this piercing optimism that bled into everything I did-even when I was facing pure evil. It made me feel like my life had purpose.

Now, at 21, my friends were too busy to call me, Mamo was too caught up in school to make meaningful time for me and even the forces of evil had seemingly moved on. There was no need for Sailor Moon anymore, and unfortunately, there didn't seem to be a need for Usagi either.

The bell on the door clanged as it swung open. A bright-eyed middle school girl and her two friends walked in, their school skirts swishing as they clamored around one another. Giggles filled the air, their laughter like a lost song. The tallest one was a slender girl with gangly legs and shining black hair. I watched her fingers drag across the edge of the shelves as she read the different titles.

"Look!" Her eyes lit up. "The new Sailor V!"

Sailor V, I thought to myself. Minako.

Minako, like the others, had flourished where I had floundered. After high school, she took her shot at acting, landing a few small roles in campy TV dramas. She moved to the Roppongi district to be among the rich and famous, and found herself swept up in a life that revolved around glittering lights, glasses of champagne and who you knew and how. Rarely did she deign to come to Juban, and when she did she was so swept up in her own world she didn't seem to care much about mine.

With Ami away at medical school in the U.S. and Rei opening an extremely successful events business in Kyoto, it seemed the only person who could come around anymore was Makoto. But even she was too busy—she finally found an investor for her flower shop and bakery, and plans were well underway to open up.

I knew they all cared about me—really, I did—but I felt rejected.

"I'll take this, please." The raven-haired girl slid the manga across the countertop, her eyes beaming.

"Sure thing," I smiled. She handed me over a credit card and I took it from her.

"It must be so cool," she looked at me, her eyes earnest. "Working at a comic store, I mean."

"Oh yeah," I said, forcing my smile even wider. "It's a lot of fun."

"Do you get to read all the manga?" Her friend chimed in. She was shorter and curvier, her eyes bright green and her hair a deep violet.

"Usually." I placed her manga in a book sleeve and handed her the receipt. "It's helpful when people want recommendations."

"We love manga," the third girl said. You could tell she was the shiest—her strong chin pointed down, but her big, brown eyes flitted up to meet my gaze. "Especially Sailor V."

"Sailor V is pretty cool," I said, my voice tinged with indignation. The tall girl raised her eyebrow and studied me closely. I didn't mean to come off like that, but since the past few weeks had been met with radio silence from Minako, it was hard for me to feign interest in a manga starring her alter ego.

The girls exchanged glances and hurried out of the shop. Great—they had interpreted my misplaced anger at Minako as rudeness. I needed to get out of my slump. I needed to find a way to cheer myself up again, to rid myself of this dark storm cloud constantly hanging over my head.

I resolved that when I left work, I would go over to Mamo's and we would spend time together and I would swallow down the anger and frustration and be okay with the fact that we were taking it slow. And then I would make the effort to talk to my friends. If I wanted them to talk to me, I was going to be the one to make the move.

Yes, my heart beamed. If the world wouldn't change, then I would just have to change it myself.

Night had fallen by the time I made my way to Mamo's apartment. The day had dragged on, but I was determined to turn my attitude around. Armed with a slew of candy, popcorn and a bottle of wine, I was going to make sure we had fun. But as soon as I crossed the threshold of Mamo's place, I knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

Mamo slumped his back and hung his head in his hands. Papers and textbooks filled the table and lined the floor while Mamo's fingers clutched the sides of his face.

"Bad day at school?" I offered a sweet smile. His eyes rose up to meet mine, and I could see he was strained. A wrinkle ebbed on his forehead as he kneaded his temples.

"Yeah, you could say that," his voice was heavy. I gently placed down my bag of goodies on the dining room table and took a seat next to him on the sofa. Slowly, I rubbed my hand across his back and I swore I saw him flinch.

"Tonight is just not a good night, Usako," he sighed, scooting away from me on the couch. I told myself it was to give me a little more room.

"Mamo," I said. "It's okay—let's take the night off to just relax."

"You don't understand, Usagi." His frustration was building.

"Really, let's just-"

"Let's just what, Usagi?" He interrupted. "I don't have the time to take a night off. I am so close to finishing and it's hard work."

My heart sank. This wasn't the first time he's snapped at me out of frustration like this, and I tried my best to not let it bother me, but tonight it felt like a betrayal. I had come to soothe him, to shower him with love and affection in the hope it might be returned to me. Instead he met me with vengeance and—evidently—disgust.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, shifting my weight away from him. "I just thought-"

"Usagi, you don't think." His words cut like a knife.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not as smart as you and that I couldn't possibly understand what it's like to be tired and frustrated," I sneered. "I just wanted to cheer you up."

"I did not say you were stupid, Usagi," he quickly countered.

"Neither did I," I quipped.

He shook his head and let out a heaving sigh. I got up from the couch and grabbed my bag.

"Usagi…" he stood up. "Come on, don't be like that. I'm sorry."

My heart was racing and a pit of anger bloomed in my stomach. It felt like my life as the carefree, lighthearted girl was so far away from me. Somewhere deep down she was still inside, trying to claw out of a cage gilded in false hope. But as I stood in Mamo's living room, there wasn't even a glimmer of her shining through.

Years had passed, and all I did was dream of my life with him. Every enemy we faced—every challenge we conquered—I did it to bring peace to the world, and by doing so, I brought peace to us. Even years ago when I thought he was ignoring me, subtly telling me to move on by not answering my letters, I still had this undying hope he reserved a special place in his heart for me.

I couldn't do it anymore. The pain in my soul had strained for so long that I wasn't sure I could let its dull ache haunt me for one moment longer.

Mamo must've seen the change, because as soon as I decided to walk out the door, he was rushing toward me. His hands grabbed my waist and he pulled me closer into him. I put my hand between us in protest.

"Usako," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm just so stressed, I didn't mean to take it out on you."

I pushed away from him. "This isn't the first time you've done this Mamo," my voice was harsh. "You can't treat me this way."

"I know," his eyes were sullen. "I know."

"No, you don't," I moved away from him. Shame washed over his face. "I've been so depressed lately, and I thought maybe tonight we could spend some time together. But once again you lash out at me and treat me like I couldn't possibly understand what it means to be burdened by something."

A white hot instinct flushed over me, and I swallowed down the words that were dancing on my tongue. If I let it escape, there would be no way to bottle it back up, but my stomach churned and my teeth chattered as if begging me to release just a tiny bit of my truth.

My life revolved around him, but his didn't revolve around me. I patiently waited, played the dutiful girlfriend who was empathetic and understanding. I pushed away others who had sworn love and devotion to me because I truly believed Mamo was my soulmate. Maybe the comfort of knowing that our futures were so intertwined allowed us to get lazy in our relationship.

I needed something: A spark, a feeling, a promise.

"I think we should take a break," I sighed.

Those words shattered him. His lips parted and let out a meek groan, his eyes twisted and he rushed to reach out to me.

"Usagi, no," his voice was small. "Please, I'm sorry."

"I know." Tears were forming in my eyes. "I don't want to break up, I just.."

His hands caught my wrists, and he brought them up to his face to kiss. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he laid gentle pecks over my hands and nuzzled them into his face. "No, please…"

"I need time to just be," I said. "I don't want to break up but I can't keep doing this."

"Please," he begged.

"Mamo, you're so busy," I said, a cry caught in my throat. "And you need time to focus and I…"

Our foreheads touched and using his thumb he brushed away a trail of tears. Biting his lip, he shook his head and rested his hand on the back of my neck, pushing us into one another. I leaned backward away from him and shifted to turn.

"This isn't a breakup," I reassured him. "I just want to give you your space, and I want you to respect that I need some of my own."

I didn't wait to hear his response, and I purposefully shielded my eyes from his, knowing the pain would be deep. Gripping my purse, I hurried toward the door and marched down the hallway without looking back. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and the weight of what I had said crawled all over my skin. In that moment, I felt the grip of anxiety curl around my throat, but I also found an odd sense of peace. For the first time in a very long time, I was on my own, and it was as terrifying as it was exciting.

My feet carried me through the dimly lit streets. I hadn't realized how late it was—or how far I'd gotten—until I found myself standing in front of the Tokyo Tower. Underneath its twinkling lights, I paused. My mind had been going just as fast as I walked, replaying the scene that unfolded at Mamo's apartment. A red hue glowed from the tower and washed the pavement like a beacon.

Had I made the right choice?

Suddenly, I heard a pop. A black mist slinked through the air, curling around me and hugging every curve of my body. The smell of fresh pine and an earthy smoke swirled with it. I watched it in fearful anticipation. Bubbling up from the mist was a low, growling rumble that vibrated inside my ribs.

It whipped back and seized me. I closed my eyes and struggled against it, but it was surrounding me. My lids tightened and constricted against my face, but I forced myself to look. My blood ran cold and hot at the same time, and I fumbled my fingers into my purse to fish for my brooch.

Years ago, it had not left my sternum for more than a few hours at night. Now, though, there wasn't a need for Sailor Moon, and I found myself forgetting it more often than not. Luckily, I happened to keep it in this purse, and when I felt the cool metal surrounding the silver millennium crystal, I latched on.

As soon as it breached the top of my purse, I was prepared to transform. How good it would feel, I thought, to be Sailor Moon again. I was rusty but I was ready. Smoke clipped my arm, jolting me forward and sending the brooch flying from my hand.

Blood drained from my face and I was filled with agony. Stumbling forward, I leapt to reach for it, but it was too late. The menacing smoke shifted to encase me completely and it twirled and moved as it sucked me in. When it rippled in front of me, I swore I could see a figure forming. Hands jutted out and clasped onto my arms.

The face in front of me was one I knew—but not one I had ever expected to see again. He was dead, wasn't he? His white hair was longer than I remembered, and pulled back into a messy bun. He looked like hadn't aged a day, but for some reason his features seemed stronger, more acute. Below a beautiful mess of eyelashes were his piercing purple eyes that twinkled with a devious curiosity.

If I hadn't been so scared, I might've been glad to study his handsome face.

"Well hello there, Usagi," he smiled wickedly.

It was Prince Dimande in the flesh.