AN: I would like to thank Lavvy for editing these drabbles.
Red String of Destiny.
She'd looked under the bench. She'd looked over the bench. She looked through the wooden slates of the bench, and glimpsed over the wooden slates of the bench.
But it wasn't there.
So, she scurried within a ten feet diameter of the timber seating. Dirt and frost stained the pleats of her skirts and the winter wind, slowly picking up speed, did nothing to swipe it away. If anybody asked what the blonde bunny was doing, crawling and stumbling around that park bench at that exact hour, it'd be obvious that she was not minding her own business. Then again, if anybody asked what she was doing anyway… Well, it wouldn't be as if they were minding their own businesses either.
Still, it wasn't there.
It wasn't… Anywhere.
The journal, Usagi frowned, had disappeared.
She nearly laughed at herself, nearly rolled her eyes at the whimsical thought. Of course it hadn't disappeared, so to speak. Everything had to be somewhere and, Usagi pulled the rose scented jacket closer to her body, wherever that somewhere was, it evidently enough wasn't within a ten feet vicinity of one park bench.
Her hand brushed at the dirtied folds of her clothing. Not that she was curious in any way. That is, not that she wanted to find the journal for her own benefits. Of course not! Tsukino Usagi of Cherry Hill was a complete and utter Samaritan.
…Except when it came to Tokyo's most eligible bachelor.
But even then! Usagi shook her head. Even then, when his words were driving her crazy and his presence was driving her utterly mad –her stomach danced at his imagined image—even then she held herself as poised as any lady around him possibly could.
But what was he writing in that blasted journal?
The wind swirled through her hair, tangling the strands into articulately strung golden ribbons. Sighing, and with one wistful glimpse behind her, she could only reason that the baka took it and himself, without even a simple 'good day, Odango', and went mysteriously on his way, not bothering for a second to share his obviously guarded valentines day secret.
Not, she reminded herself, that she wanted to know.
Entirely.
"How would I know if it was for Valentines Day anyway?" she muttered. Her finger twisted anxiously at each other. "It probably isn't. It's probably just some ordinary journal, or a schedule keeper…thingy." She shouldered her way into the pedestrian traffic. It didn't have to be a valentine.
But then, Mamoru never wrote in journals.
But then, Mamoru had never been so mysterious or protective of a slip of paper before.
But then… Tomorrow was Valentines Day.
And the look in his eyes when she caught him scribbling in it caused her thoughts to freeze, then tremble, until the quivers shuddered all the way down to tingling toes.
Even if there was another way to justify that book, there was simply no way that God or the devil himself could explain away that guise in his gaze. And it was all, she thought as she stuffed her hands in the deep and silk-lined pockets, for some other girl.
Downright miserable now, Usagi dipped her head low, kicking at various pebbles littering the sidewalk. Her back hunched, her shoulders scooped, she seemed to be this tiny forest fairy floating through industrious sidewalks with an elfin jacket as her only protection. A lonely flake passed her nonchalantly as she walked. For two moments –for what might be the only two moments in her entire life exactly like these ones – she felt as if the very fates were pummeling against her.
And wouldn't you know it, it started to rain.
If Tsukino Usagi, 14, with the classical blonde hair and innocent blue eyes, could curse and not feel guilty for it, she would have cursed seven ways to Sunday, and colorfully enough that the Sopranos themselves would be outright bewildered.
Instead, however, she bundled herself in the amazingly protective coat, and dodged for the quickest cover when thunder rumbled and lightening threatened the skies. Her stomach did mad jumps with every grumble the sky made. Her eyes pressured to close against the enclosing darkness, the clouds seemingly crying with the voiceless shrills echoing through her head.
She didn't look at the store she bolted into. She didn't quite care if it was designated Earl's House of Terror… And then some. The simple fact was that if God had given each person just one fear to consume their entire district of fright, Usagi's would be (and actually was) rain showers. Not so much the 'rain' part, but as the saying went: 'When it rained, it poured'. And more often than not, it poured with fierce thunders and electric lightning.
Very few things, including energy-sucking youmas and clowns, were worse than electric lightning.
"There you are!"
She'd just made it inside, hair dripping, clothes slightly soaked, puddles, tears and all, when the voice plucked her already strung nerves viciously.
"I must have called the agency two hours ago. It's almost time to close and I'm late. Very late. Aren't you guys on eighteenth street? Never mind," the brunette garbled, fiddling with a box. The cheerful nametag pinned to her breast pocket boasted the name 'Keri', but her sleek suit and her shadowy eyes boasted something else all together.
Nevertheless, before Usagi could even deem to consider that 'something else', Keri shoved a box into her hands, complete with red and white bows, and quickly relayed, "This needs to go to Destiny Flowers. You remember where it is, don't you? What's your name again?"
Should she answer? It would be impolite if she didn't. But, she didn't work…Obviously, she wasn't the person this woman was looking for. "I—my name—"
"Quickly now. We're behind schedule."
"But—"
"That's great." A flick of her wrist. "That's…" A quick glance at her watch. "Great…Okay! Well, be quick about. Probably last delivery of the day, huh? Beautiful day for it." She already had a tag in one hand, a phone in the other, and was all together shoving Usagi through the door.
Fear streaked up her spine. "But the rain—"
"Rain?" It was an absent question. One that wasn't really asked, but simply used to fill in those gaps one might use to take breaths. Before Usagi could 'not really' answer, Keri –if that was, indeed, her real name—gave her a once over, murmuring, "You might think about getting that coat dry cleaned."
Defensively, she clutched at it. "Yes, the rain—"
"Rain?" She said again, in the same absent way. "What rain? It's February."
She knew it was February! She wasn't that dense. But it didn't change the fact that it did, in fact, just rain. Not JUST 'rained', she corrected herself, but rained the same rain which illuminated the sky only moments ago, grumbling loudly and lightening up so that it gave the eerie illusion that it was the…
…Sun… Which was actually shining.
Usagi blinked. The sun was actually shining. Brightly, cheerful as two Santa's, and with birds whistling in the cherry trees to boot.
What rain, indeed.
"Now here's your tip for the service." Clean and crisp, a 1000 yen bill was pressed onto the box.
Oh for the love of… "Wait, wait. I'm not—"
"Think nothing of it. Think nothing of it. Oh!" With another flick of the wrist –experience as a magician must be a requirement for her line of work— not one, but two cards appeared. "Don't forget these." She positioned them on the lid of the box. "Now remember, the first card is our store's name. The first," she reminded before chattering on to whatever poor soul was on the other end of the phone line.
The door slammed with a jingle. In the ways of the bemused, Usagi could only stand staring at it for three whole minutes before the weight of the box filtered into her head.
Blue and curious, her eyes peered at the card. Her head tilted, curious. "'Must Have'." She whispered."Designer Jewellery." Her eyes shot up to the logo of the store before dropping to the second card. What must have been a mimicry of a diamond shone at the corner of the paper beside the elaborately drawn words, Sparkle of Sea.
Usagi nearly dropped the box. These people, whoever these people in 'Must Have', the jewellery store, were, must be somewhere in the area of 'not-too-bright' to allow one of the most valuable jewels in Japan in the care of a much too young, much too clumsy teenage girl.
The temptation to open the lid, to peek inside, and glimpse at what had to be an awe-inspiring sight, sat heavily on her shoulders and with it, the responsibility. Usagi shook her head fiercely. Well, there was no way that that teenage girl was going to be her! Her hand reached for the handle of the door. So intent was she on the box that, before she even pulled on the suddenly immoveable door, the dangling sign that claimed 'Open', now asserted, in large, bold and fire-engine red letters: Closed.
"What?" Her mouth formed the words. What jewellery store closed at five o'clock?
"Ooooooh…" She would have raked her hands through her hair if either of them were free. "Today really isn't my day."
And it looked like she was going to be that teenage girl after all.
But, just imagine, a nervous giggle bubbled in her throat as she spun on her heel. She, Tsukino Usagi, was carrying one of the most valuable jewels in Japan!
That thought alone might have toppled her over had a small boy, no taller than her waist, beat it to the punch. Scarf, tweed jacket, and all, he rammed into her with such a force that her own personal record could have been severely challenged, and left them both situated in rumpled clothing on the sidewalk.
Then, his face materialized into her mind. The face of just who she held that personal record with. Inattentively, she pulled at the damp jacket and thought, for a moment, that it might just be crying for her thoughts.
Not it, she blinked, her nose scrunching in thought. There was whimpering and short sniffles, but it wasn't coming from the jacket. And it wasn't, she grasped as her eyes took in the bundles of strewn, slightly crushed roses, for her thoughts.
She was up in half a second, reaching for the tiny boy. His nose was already turning red in anticipation of the tears to come. His hair was ruffled, either by the fall or by the wind, and bounced the sun's light off every strand. But, it was deeply ebony, and deeply familiar, and had to remind her, once again, of the same man who penetrated her thoughts seconds before, hours earlier, and years preceding.
Whether it was the resemblance, or simply second nature, the blonde immediately fell into her ageless spouts of apologies.
"Omigosh!" She began, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't see you! Are you hurt? Are you dying? Do you need an ambulance?" A sound spurted from her throat when she saw a blooming redness on the boy's knee. "Gomen nasai!"
But, the boy wasn't looking at her. His sniffles still penetrated her mind, and her eyes followed his to the damaged roses littering the ground. All she could think to say was, "these… are they yours?" Then, roll her eyes in mortification, because clearly they were no one else's.
Still, he said, "No." Little lip trembling, he picked up a stem.
Usagi reached out a hand, hoping to soothe him, and was relieved when he didn't pull away. "Are you hurt?" She asked again.
His hand came up, rubbed at his nose. "I'm not crying."
She smiled. "I can see that." But, his eyes, shy and so blue, shimmered with tears. "Whose flowers are they?"
He hesitated for a moment. Every kid on this block knew that you weren't supposed to talk to strangers. It was practically the universal law! But, her smile was so warm, her hair so unbelievably golden, and her eyes… her eyes sparkled like a fairie's. His chin hit his chest. "Mom's. I'm supposed to bring them –carefully," he added, "bring them to a lady." His little lip trembled. "But, they're broke."
He looked so utterly defeated at that confession. The will to scoop him up and hug him was large, but the will to not terrify him was larger. Silence ensued, not so much because Usagi didn't know what to say, but rather what to do.
Her eyes wandered around as if trying to find some hint or signal, some idea, as to make the state of affairs better. At that moment she would have snipped off both odangos if it would have made that little boy –the little boy who looked so much like Mamoru— smile.
But, all she saw was the sidewalk, the leafless trees, the bustling people scurrying across the footpath. All that came into her line of vision was the strip of stores crowding the walkways, business cards from the jewellery store cluttering the ground, the overturned box, Usagi winced, containing the Sparkle of Sea, and the 1000 yen bill trapped under it—
Her eyes stilled on the bill as a smile bloomed on her face. "Well, then," she said, "we'll just have to get some more, won't we?"
Large and liquid, his fists rubbed at his eye, his brows drew together. "We will?"
"Of course!" Her hand fisted over the money as she reached for her other delivery. How much can roses possibly cost anyway? "I don't see that we have any choice. Coming?" She held out her hand for him.
But, he scurried to his feet all on his own, nodding with great assurance. He tugged on her skirt. "I know where, too. I know where." With both hands, he held up a tag tied to a limp and lost fallen rose, titled: Bring Me to You.
Bring me to you? "Is that a store?"
The boy rolled his magnificent blue eyes. "No." Girls. "It's the name of the flower. But," he paused emphatically, "the flower came from my mom's store." With that he looked at her, as if it explained everything, including the mysteries of the universe.
"Right." She took the tag, juggling the box under her arm. "And where is your mom's store?"
"Here."
She looked up, wondering if somehow during their encounter they had moved. "Here?" She pointed to the jewellery store.
He sighed, long and suffering. "No. There." Then he pointed to the florist right beside it.
Sure enough, big, bold, and blue, flashed the floral title: Destiny Flowers.
"How… ironic" was all she could really think to say before being tugged through the entrance.
"There you are Haru!" Blonde and beautiful, the woman behind the counter turned her gaze to the boy. "I was wondering what was taking so long. You did go to the right store, didn't you? Right next door, I said, and–" she blinked. "Oh." Then her gaze was all for Usagi. "Didn't you like the flowers?"
It was her turn to blink. "What?"
"The roses. I sent my son, Haru, over to the jewelers to give them to you. Keri said you'd be in." She rounded the counter. "Tsukino Usagi, right?"
Usually Tsukino Usagi would gladly and uninhibitedly grasp anyone's hand for a shake, no stranger to human contact. But, when the woman held out her hand, Usagi could only stare at it curiously, and wondered if she'd just walked into a Dark Kingdom trap.
"I…yes." Usagi admitted. "I'm Tsukino Usagi."
Her smile filled with relief. "I thought so. Your father described you as a small blonde young lady with a rather unique hair style. He said I wouldn't miss you."
"My father?"
"Mhm. He said he was sending you to get a trinket from Must Have Jewelers, which I see you've gotten, and I thought, 'Why not kill two birds'? Not literally of course, but I guess he must not have been aware that we were side-by-side." She paused. "You did get the flowers, didn't you?"
Her mind spun forth, then back, having trouble keeping up. She certainly didn't recall being asked to go anywhere today. "The flowers?" Her hands flexed in the boy's. "Oh. Yes." Her smile was sheepish. "I'm afraid that Haru and I had a bit of a run-in. The flowers are lost to us."
With a deep breath, filled more with affection than exasperation, the woman rolled her eyes to the ceiling, then the silently squirming boy. "I suppose there must be some casualties."
Usagi's fingers rubbed at the bank note, but grimaced when she saw the price tags dangling around the store. "I have some money…"
But, the woman's hands waved madly as she hurried into the back. "Not at all," she called behind her. "Not at all, not at all, not at…" –silence, a clamor— "all. Aha!" She came out carrying a bundle of flora, beams and smiles. "Wasn't your fault, was it? Your father's company is an exceptional client to our business. Here you are," she added as she laid a dozen roses on Usagi's free arm. "Perfect."
The scent wafted into her senses, surrounded her in the glorious flowering perfume. Her heart battered against her ribs and her reflexes ached to bury her face in the bouquet. Her eyes, but God her eyes, would not remove themselves from each perfectly placed red petals.
Perhaps she would have gone staring at the spray had yet another business card not strategically shoved itself right under her nose.
"Now, be careful with these items. Quite expensive. You have to admire the lucky person who's going to get them. A Valentines Day present, I hear. Well," she checked her watch, "best be off. Safe trip now, and be very careful."
Just as she was half way out the door, the woman let a little rumble out of her throat. "You know…" she began, "you should really get that coat dried and cleaned. Or dry-cleaned. It's February."
Yes. How very ironic. "Right," she muttered, shouldering her way through the rest of the door. "And right after that, I'll just go ahead and get the owner of this coat to profess his undying love for me." Her eyes dropped to the box and roses. "Destiny just isn't that reliable."