Usagi wasn't sure how long she had been stretched out on the cool green grass when she heard her name called out, or rather her nickname. "Hey Odango Atama," she heard from a distance.
Popping open her pale blue eyes, she looked in the direction of the voice and found Mamoru jogging towards her in his typical running attire: a T-shirt with rolled sleeves and those running shorts. Always, he wore those short, tight running shorts that clung to his lower body in all the right places. Sometimes Usagi would pick a fight with him just to catch a glimpse of that gorgeous backside.
Usagi shook her head gently; that could wait for later. She pulled herself up into a sitting position as Mamoru lowered his body to the grass. "I hope you've got a good reason for waking me up from my nap," Usagi half teased.
"No good reason," Mamoru shook his head apologetically. "I needed a break and spotted you at just the right moment. How long have you been napping here anyways?"
Glancing up to see the lengthening shadows, Usagi shrugged. "I dunno. What time is it?" She reached for Mamoru's wrist, flipping it to read his watch. As she was about to release him, she noticed a long white scar running the length of Mamoru's forearm.
"Mamoru!" she exclaimed in shock. "What happened? Are you okay? How did this happen?"
A little surprised by her reaction, Mamoru reminded," scars mean that the injury is healed, Usagi. This happened a long time ago." When Usagi visibly relaxed, Mamoru decided that his theory had been correct; Usagi thought he had been recently injured.
"Of course," she nodded, regaining her composure. "But that's still a bad scar. How did you get it?"
Mamoru stared at the jagged white line for a minute before settling back on his elbows and staring up at the sky. Finally, he began, "Once, a very long time ago, I was out for a drive with my parents. I don't know where we were going. I don't even remember being in the car. All I know is that I woke up one day in the hospital. I was heavily bandaged and spent the first few days on strong pain medications. I couldn't remember anything through the haze of the medication. Finally, they told me that my parents had died in the same car crash that had injured me."
Usagi looked at Mamoru with tears in her eyes. "You lost your parents that young, Mamoru? That's horrible." She looked down at her feet, plucking at the grass that poked up between her toes. When she spoke again, it was with a quiet and reflective voice, "What were they like, Mamoru? Your parents—do you miss them?"
Mamoru shook his head slowly, running his index finger along the length of the long while scar. "That's the worst scar of them all, Odango," he said quietly. "I never remembered who I was, or anything about my parents. I have no memories from before I woke up in the hospital. I've read about my parents, and even went to my house once to collect some of my belongings, but none of it brought back any memories."
Usagi was shocked at the quiet acceptance with which Mamoru spoke. Learning of his lost childhood brought an ache to her heart that she couldn't describe. Not knowing what else to do, she moved behind Mamoru and pulled his upper body into her tiny lap. Holding him tightly, she wept for him. She smoothed his hair gently and traced small circles on his chest with her finger.
As Usagi's warm tears soaked through his T-shirt, something inside Mamoru broke. His own body began to shake and his shoulders heaved. After a deep breathe, Mamoru let out a sob, quiet but heart-wrenching. Tears ran down his cheeks; the first he could remember. As Mamoru continued to cry, Usagi's tears slowed and she pulled him closer to herself. She kissed his forehead and rocked him gently while he regained his composure.
Soon Mamoru was quiet and became aware of the small but strong arms that surrounded him. Usagi was holding onto him with all the tenderness and care of a mother holding a young child. Mamoru had never expected to find healing for the open wound in his heart, but suddenly, safe in Usagi's arms, he felt a growing hope that this scar too, would someday heal.