Ikuko's footsteps sounded quietly on the thick carpet covering the stairs. "Usagi?" she called again, certain now that her daughter was out with her friends. Ikuko paused with her hand poised above Usagi's doorknob. It had been years since she had gone into Usagi's room without permission, but she quickly waved feelings of guilt aside. She wasn't going in to snoop, only to collect the laundry. It had been over two weeks since Usagi had brought down her laundry and she was bound to be running out of clean clothes. Her decision made, she turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The room was in its usual state of disarray. As she moved towards the closet, Ikuko scooped the discarded garments into the basket she held on her hip. And though she had promised herself that this trip was only to collect laundry, she found herself setting her basket down to straighten the manga on the bookshelf and to smooth the covers on Usagi's bed. Images of tucking in her little toddler sprang to mind.
Wiping away a stray tear, Ikuko turned from the bed and lifted the basket back to her hip (It was hard to think of Usagi as being fourteen). Back to her original mission, Ikuko crossed the room to Usagi's walk-in closet, pulled the door open and entered. She quickly transferred the rest of Usagi's laundry from the pink hamper to her own basket.
But when Ikuko turned to exit the closet, she dropped the basket in surprise, spilling the laundry onto the floor. Stepping over her mess, she moved to inspect the inside of Usagi's door. Every inch was covered with pictures, hearts, and notes. And every picture showed the face of the same boy—no, man. He was very handsome, though he wore a serious expression in most of the pictures. It was also obvious that he was not aware that his picture was being taken. In some shots he was sitting in a small café, in others, he was reading on a park bench. Usagi had obviously been following this young man around with a camera for some time. By the many hearts she had drawn around his face with a magic marker and pasted between pictures, it was obvious that her daughter's feelings for him were strong and not a passing thing.
Ikuko knew that she should pick up her basket and go. The very fact that the collection was hidden inside Usagi's closet made it obvious that she did not wish it to be seen, but Ikuko simply could not control herself. Giving in, she knelt to read the sloppy notes her daughter had taped to the door between the pictures. What she discovered there was even more shocking than the collection itself. There was a page of scribbled names: Mrs. Chiba; Chiba Usagi; Chiba-Tsukino Usagi; Mrs. Chiba Mamoru; Mr. and Mrs. Chiba Mamoru and Usagi. That name—Chiba Mamoru—she had heard it before, but she could not place it.
Shaking her head slowly, Ikuko turned to gather the fallen laundry. She had just backed out of Usagi's room, shutting the door softly behind her when she heard the front door open and close.
"Mom, I'm home," Usagi called.
Ikuko descended the steps, carefully composing herself on the way, and asked her daughter how her day had been.
"It was great, except that baka Mamoru was teasing me again," Usagi stated with a pout. "He pulled my ponytail and called me lump head!"
So this was the man her daughter had fallen for. At least his teasing was proof that he wasn't too much more mature than her young daughter. "You know, Usagi, sometimes boys tease a girl because they like them and don't know what to say."
"Really?" Usagi's eyes sparkled and her smile brightened as she looked up at her mother. "I mean…" she caught herself and quickly corrected, "Gross—I would never want Mamoru to like me!" Usagi made a face before running up the steps, but Ikuko saw the smile return to Usagi's face as she turned around. He daughter was in love.