IMPORTANT NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR (PLEASE READ):

Sorry for the delay. Summer events have kept me pretty busy. You know what's interesting? As I was reading the original drafts from many years ago, I realized I didn't have a cell phone at the time, so my characters didn't. That makes me laugh because when I first wrote this, I imagined them stretching their phone cords across the room so they could talk, just like I did at the time. Wow. Anyway, cell phones have been added to this story. About time, right?

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Crossroads in Life

Written by Princess Kayla

Inspired by Naoko Takeuchi's "Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon"

Chapter Six

View from a Rose

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"And, this is your room. I've left your campus guidebook and map on your desk. If you need anything, let me know." The resident assistant enunciated his words to help me follow along. As soon as I had gotten off the airplane, it was clear that my knowledge of the English language definitely needed to be adapted to actually living in the United States.

"Thank you," I said, slightly apprehensive.

He grinned, "You are not the first Japanese student I have met. You will catch onto the language really quickly." He clapped his hands together and looked around, "Well, if you need anything else, let me know. My room is on the first floor." He laughed, "Oh, my name is Mike by the way."

I smiled too, "I am Mamoru Chiba."

"Nice to meet you, Mamoru," he shook my hand. "I'm going to let you get settled. I know you are signed up for summer courses. I left a copy of your schedule with the guidebook. It has meal times on there as well." I thanked him again, and he left me to myself.

Surprisingly, and to my joy, I was given a private room. Looking around, I took everything in - the small bed in the corner with dresser next to it and the desk with a chair in front of the window. I opened the small closet and found a mirror on the inside of the door.

I looked at myself standing in the room so very different from my apartment. It was crazy to think that I was in America. I had taken the unbelievable leap across the ocean, completely alone. However, I had made many different moves throughout my life. It was only different this time because I was now in a country where very few people spoke my native tongue. I knew I would have to find ways to assist with that issue.

I turned my attention to the boxes on the floor, which I had shipped prior to leaving Tokyo. It was time to get busy. I started by unpacking and organizing everything. The task took under an hour. I shoved some boxes into the closet because I didn't know where to put the random, unnecessary things that I had kept from my old life.

After, I went to the schedule and map that Mike provided. My classes started in a couple of days, giving me time to get acquainted with the area. To make myself more comfortable, I decided to go on a hunt for the buildings and rooms where my classes were located.

Walking around the campus was so interesting, far different from college in Tokyo. It wasn't crowded, but I assumed it would be in the fall. For now, I had more freedom to search throughout the area. Anatomy 101, Calculus 302, Biology 202, and so on were marked on my map as I found their locations. Organized as I was, I even charted a path from class to class so time could be utilized.

Once I finished the hunt for my courses, I made my way to the student union. Upon arrival, I was given a student ID, which I could use for purposes like getting meals in the cafeteria. I arrived right at the end of lunch and hurried to the line. The food was different from the dishes I was accustomed to, but it was part of the experience. I grabbed the things that I knew the correct words for - slice of pizza, side salad, apple, and bottled water - and took a seat at one of the empty tables. As I ate, I looked through the campus guidebook. There was a section on the history of Harvard, one on the staff, another on the many majors available, and finally, a list of the most recent clubs and extracurricular activities. Flipping through the list, I found the 'International Language Club.' Underneath, the description read, 'All international students are welcome here for assistance in learning to use English in everyday conversation. Call the following number for more information.'

Taking initiative, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number listed. "Hello?" came a man's voice, with an accent that I couldn't place.

"Hello, I am interested in the International Language Club," I spoke as clearly as possible.

"Yes, hello. My name is Guillermo, and you are?" he asked.

"My name is Mamoru. I am from Japan," I answered.

"Great," he exclaimed, "Our club will start meeting for the summer next Tuesday, following the start of classes. We meet two days a week in the reading room attached to the library, beginning at 4:00 pm."

"Thank you," I told him.

"We look forward to meeting you." He said 'goodbye', and I hung up my phone. This looked like a good opportunity for me, and I felt encouraged as I finished up my meal.

That night, after getting settled into bed, I found myself restless. I had done a good job on my first day to stay focused on the tasks at hand. But, as I laid in the silence of my room, I was unsettled. Usagi's tearful face haunted me every time I closed my eyes. I told myself over and over that she would be okay. She would move on and realize that she didn't really love me. No one ever could.

A loud bang startled me, and I sat upright in my bed. There were footsteps down the hall and then the sound of a door opening and closing. These were some of the noises that I would have to get used to, but they were noises that took me back to times that I long tried to forget. It hurt to remember...

. . .

The slap across my face stung badly, and I had to bite my tongue to hold back a cry. Crying out only made the punishment worse. I tried to remember what I did to deserve another round of retribution. Perhaps, I forgot to wash the dishes or flush the toilet. Or, maybe, the hit came for merely breathing. Once the beating was over, I was sent back to the bedroom with the two other children.

I was only seven at the time, but I didn't feel like a child at all. Within the three years prior, I was passed between five homes. Either I was disobedient, rebellious, difficult to care for, or something else.

There was one good home out of the five that I had prayed was my stopping point, a place to belong. However, I was sent away. I remember overhearing my social worker talking to the one foster mom I really liked. She had kept me longer than anyone else, and eventually, I felt loved - or what I thought being loved felt like. However, to my total despair and loss, she told the social worker that she wanted another kid to care for. My social worker asked her why, and her simple answer was 'he's just not good.'

I constantly asked myself what that meant. 'Not good.' I didn't know why I was considered that. I did my best to follow the rules and do as I was told, but that never seemed enough.

Then, I ended up in a place where slaps and whippings were a basic form of communication, not just for me but the other two kids as well. I can't remember their names. I sometimes wondered what happened to them. The last night I saw them was the night I ran. I packed up what little things were mine into an old ripped backpack and took off into the night. I moved through the shadows, avoiding any person or car that went by. I got as far as the train and snuck on, riding it to almost twenty stops away. From that point, I lived on the streets, scavenging for food and shelter. Yes, I was seven, but I had to grow up quickly. I don't know how long I lived like that, but I remembered adapting to the feeling of hunger and the lack of hygiene.

Then, the hardest night came; the police found me. I took off, sprinting as fast as I could through alleys and over fences. They gained on me until I reached a stone barrier. Quickly, I crawled to the top and leaped into a huge, elegant yard. It was dark except for the decorative lights that lined the pathways up to the large house. Suddenly, I heard the sirens of a patrol car. I ran to a huge nearby tree and climb as high as I could. As the cops walked to the front door, I watched silently, doing my best to become one with the tree.

The front door opened, revealing a man. He conversed with the policemen and made a motion around his yard. The police then searched the grounds. I didn't move or breathe as they shown their flashlights up into the trees. After some time, the head police officer bowed to the man and called for his team to leave. Once the front door was shut, I let my body relax. There was no way I was going to head back out that night, so I adjusted myself to the most comfortable position that I could manage and fell asleep. Little did I know, my night in that tree would change my life.

. . .

...just as I drifted off in my memory, I finally fell asleep in my dorm room bed.

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My first two days of classes were quite the adventure. I did my best to keep up with my professors' introductions, taking the most detailed notes that I could manage. Despite the language difference, I felt I did well, but I did little conversing with others. I was interested in whatever help the club could bring that Tuesday afternoon.

I walked into the reading room, unsure of what to expect. Immediately, a man came up to me, "Are you Mamoru?" I nodded. "Great, I am Guillermo. We spoke on the phone," he explained.

"Nice to meet you," I said as I took a seat amongst the other students. There were about ten of us, all different nationalities. I listened to their small talk as we waited.

Finally, Guillermo called the club to order, "This is our first meeting for the summer. We have some newcomers and to each of you we say 'welcome.' I want to explain to you what this club is about." He motioned to a couple of students near the front. "This is Julia, Thomas and Evelyn. They have lived in America their entire lives and, obviously, converse as an American would. They are going to help us become comfortable during our time here on campus." He continued, "As you have already noticed, conversations here flow differently than you're probably accustomed to, but I believe all of you know English enough that you will be able to adapt quickly." He pointed to himself, "Four years ago, I was in your shoes. I am native to Argentina, but after spending time here, I have become more confident and enjoy speaking both Spanish and English fluently."

He motioned to Julia and she stood, "I am so excited to work with all of you and learn about each of your cultures as well. A lot of what we will do here involves choosing random topics that allow us to practice speaking to one another. This will be awkward at first, but after awhile, it becomes really fun. You'll see."

Guillermo nodded with a grin, "That's right, so let's get started by introducing ourselves."

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The rest of the week went well. I realized how my classes were going to benefit from practicing English through mock conversations. I was already becoming more comfortable. It gave me confidence to do my best to make good first impressions. However, I realized that while I as focusing on what I was saying, I had forgotten to consider my appearance.

On Friday night, as I looked into the mirror in the dorm bathroom, I noticed it had been too long since I had last shaved. I sat my shower caddy on the shelf, right above the sinks. After preparing the water, I dug through the caddy to pull out my shaving cream and razor. As I did so, I accidently pulled my phone out as well. Before I could catch it, it went straight into the water. I cursed and yanked it out swiftly, but I wasn't quick enough. I dried it off and touched the button and screen, but the power refused to turn on. I cursed again and sat it on the shelf.

Once I had finished in the bathroom, I returned to my bedroom. I sat down at my desk chair and looked at my phone with frustration burning within me. I was going to have to get it fixed, so I opened the Internet on my laptop and searched for electronic stores.

The next day, I took a bus to the nearest phone store. To my disappointment, the technician informed me that my phone was ruined. Everything I had stored on it was gone. I never knew how crucial my phone was until I lost all of its important information. So, I had to give in and purchase a new phone with a new number.

I took it back to campus and recalled a valuable lesson Sir had taught me. He always told me to have an old fashion schedule book, just in case. When I got back to my dorm room, I dug through my desk until I found the small leather book. Flipping, through the pages, I found the address and numbers section. I started adding information to my new phone. When I reached Sir's number, I called and informed him of what had happened, giving him my new number.

I continued through the book and came across some familiar names that caused me to hesitate. I decided against adding their numbers and put the book back into the desk. If and when I decided to call them, I would simply take the book out again. It wasn't a big deal. However, as I thought of them, I couldn't help but wonder what they were up to. However, as I put my phone into my pocket, I did my best to push that curiosity aside.

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Thomas gave me a high five, "Great job!" He laughed, "Are you sure you aren't from here?" I laughed too as we practiced the random discussion about the advantage of riding your bike around campus. Summer was winding down and practice like this had benefited me so much that I was sure the fall semester would be much easier.

"What was it like living in Japan?" Patrice, from France, asked me.

I shrugged, "I don't know. For me it wasn't anything special. It was normal."

Evelyn joined the conversation, "I can't imagine going so far away from home. Do you miss your family?" Again, I shrugged. Her expression showed her interest, "What about your friends?"

"It's been a long time since I've talked to them," I explained.

Julia came over and nudged me with her elbow, "What about a girl? Do you have a girlfriend back home?"

My stomach twisted. Instantly, memories of Usagi flooded my mind. I shook my head, "No. There isn't anyone."

"You don't look too sure," Julia grinned, "Whatever her name is, I'm sure she misses you."

Guillermo cut in, "Come on now, girls. Leave the guy alone." I mouthed 'thank you' to him and stood up.

"I have to get going," I said as I grabbed my school bag. "I have a paper that I need to finish up for tomorrow."

"Don't let us run you off," Evelyn frowned.

"No. You're not. I've just lost track of time," I gave a small smile, "I'll see you all around." I waved as I left them and headed out of the library.

As I made my way across campus, I gave into the memories of Usagi. Almost four months had passed since I had left Usagi standing alone on the street. I wondered if she was doing well. Hopefully, she was enjoying her summer. Perhaps, she went on a trip or got a summer job. Maybe, she met someone and, possibly, fell in love.

When I arrived back in my room, I gave into my curiosity. I went to my desk, took out the address book and flipped through the pages. My finger ran across Usagi's number, and I wavered. Calling her would upset my telling her to let me go. So, I went to Motoki's number instead. I knew it was foolish, but I dialed his number anyway and clicked call. The phone rang several times. I wondered if he wouldn't answer because he didn't recognize the number.

I was wrong.

"Hello?" Motoki answered and I kept my mouth shut. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reverted to my native tongue, "Hello. Motoki?"

"This is he. Who is this?" he asked.

Slowly, I answered, "It's me, Mamoru." There was silence, and I felt my hand start to sweat around the phone.

"Wow, Mamoru," he said, clearly stunned by my call, "It's been awhile. I didn't recognize your number."

"Yes. I broke my other phone and had to get a new one." He made an 'I see' sound, and I continued, "So, how have things been?"

"Pretty, good. I've been busy working over the summer, for tuition and such. How about you?" he asked indifferently.

"I'm taking summer courses right now and adjusting to being in the States," I tried to make small talk, "Are you still dating Minako?"

"Yes," he replied, "She's starting classes in the fall."

"That's great." I paused and took a breath. Then, I cautiously asked, "What about Usagi? Does she start school in the fall too?"

He took a moment, as if considering what to say. Finally, he responded, "No. Usagi left town after graduation."

I was surprised. "How come?"

"She chose a school outside of Tokyo," he paused, "I can never remember what it's called. I think she wanted to leave early to get a job or something. I haven't talked to her much."

"Oh." This didn't sound like a choice Usagi would make, but time changes things. I asked, "Do you know how she's doing?"

"Mina talks to her a lot. She told me that Usagi was doing really well," he explained. "You know, Mamoru, you could always call her yourself. I'm pretty sure her number is the same."

"Okay, I might do that," I lied.

"I'm sorry, but I am about to walk into work. Talk to you later?" he spoke quickly.

"Sure," I agreed, but didn't know how faithfully I would stick to that promise. "Good talking to you."

He said 'good bye' and the call ended. It shouldn't have surprised me that talking to Motoki would be awkward; a lot of time had passed. I tried to picture his face. His voice sounded so different, which made his face unclear in my mind.

Unable to fight my curiosity, I went to my closet and dug out one of the unopened boxes. As I pulled it from the closet, the bottom gave way and everything fell to the floor. Frustrated, I dropped the box aside and bent down to pick up everything. I stopped when my hands found the photo album - Usagi's Christmas gift to me. I sat down on the floor and flipped through the book. I began to recall so many moments. Motoki's face became clear again, and I remembered my days working with him at the Crown.

I turned the page to one of Usagi smiling brightly in our favorite park. The lake and her golden hair shimmered in the sun. I laughed lightly, remembering her silly dumpling hairstyle. Seeing her next to the roses in that perfect place triggered the memory of her beautiful voice. While it felt so long ago, her voice was clear within me. I closed my eyes, reliving that night. That was the night I first called her 'Usako.'

I whispered aloud, "Usako." Opening my eyes, I ran my fingers over the photo.

Suddenly, harsh words echoed in my mind - 'he's just not good.'

I shut the album. I didn't deserve these pictures and the memories that came with them. It was good that I had left when I did. If I hadn't, it was only a matter of time before things got bad. The more I was around someone, the more dangerous the relationship became. It would end in a horrible disaster. I didn't want my world to shatter again. My leaving was for the best. It was. It had to be because I couldn't go back now.

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Please Pardon the Grammatical Errors and Review.