Title: First Truths -- Chapter 3 Author: Lilac Summers Rated: PG salaices@leland.stanford.edu Hello all! Thank you guys, all of you who've written me and had the patience to wait for a reply. I was a bit bummed because there was a drop in the number of e-mails in my inbox, people. What's up with that?! Come on, guys, I live for your feedback! (Okay, that's not all I live for, but it's up there, all right?) ;) Jo-chan, why haven't you written me? And you too, Shi-chan. Sidnei, leave Tama-chan alone and get to the darn keyboard, already. Disclaimer: I own neither the characters associated to Sailor Moon, nor the imaginary park bench this episode takes place on. Sailor Moon belongs to Naoko Takeuchi, and the park bench belongs to The Park Bench Gnomes that Live in the Forest of Malcontent (TPBGLFM). <...> =indicates thought by a character ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* First Truths by Lilac Summers Chapter 3 It was a glorious day! Her mother, the don't-you-come-back-in-here- till-you-pass-your-test mother, had taken one look at her this morning and turned into Ah-my-poor-baby-are-you-feeling-okay mother. Even Luna, more a stickler about schoolwork than her mom, had taken one look at Usagi's haggard face and consented, somewhat guiltily, that Usagi should, indeed, take a day off from school and get some rest. So Usagi had done just that, sleeping deeply until two in the afternoon. Her mother had then pressed a hearty lunch on her, which she'd been more than happy to partake of, and then shooed her outside so Usagi could get some fresh air and sunlight. Usagi was now feeling spiffy, lounging on a park bench, staring drowsily at a group of playing children, and congratulating herself on earning a little holiday. Of course, mention of fighting brought her mood plummeting straight down. She'd been trying so hard to keep her mind off last night's disastrous meeting with Tuxedo Mask. Usagi groaned and covered her face with her hands, fighting the remembered humiliation. And that wasn't even the worse of it! The worst part was the fact that Tuxedo Mask, her savior, her hero, her idol, her *everything*, had called her incompetent. It was the very last nail in the coffin, driving the point that Usagi totally sucked at everything she did. And why...oh, why couldn't Tuxedo Mask see how the very last thing she ever needed from him was criticism? Usagi heard the shrieks of laughter from the kids and wished desperately that she could join in, escape the reality of another failure for even a little while. She slanted one eye open and watched enviously as they played with a raggedy frisbee, throwing it with more enthusiasm than talent. Then a little girl misjudged distance and threw the disk right at Usagi. Usagi watched dispassionately as it flew right towards her face with frightening speed. It would take a simple reflex to catch the disc expertly, but she really didn't care if it hit her or not. Poetic justice to get knocked out by a frisbee, of all things, after all. Maybe she'd get a concussion and wouldn't have to face Tuxedo Mask in another fight for a long, long time. Usagi closed her eyes and waited for it to hit, wondering idly just how much it would hurt... "My god, you are the laziest girl I've ever seen! Can't you even move long enough to get out of the way, Odango Atama?" Usagi would recognize that voice anywhere. How couldn't I, she smirked silently, recognize the voice of the very devil himself? She didn't even have to open her eyes to see that he'd also caught the frisbee, ruining her chance of unconsciousness. "Hello, Satan. Out for a neighborly stroll today, looking for new souls to suck dry?" she deadpanned, feeling the cleansing power of anger wash over her depression. Well, if she couldn't let some kids bonk her on the head, she might as well take out her frustrations on him. Mamoru frowned down at the girl on the bench and carelessly threw the frisbee back at the group of kids. He didn't like the fact that she hadn't even deigned to look at him when she insulted him. "You are the most infuriating kid," he commented, smiling shortly when she grimaced at the word "kid." "And don't call me Satan." "Then don't call me Odango Atama," she countered. "I'll call you whatever I want, Odango Atama." "Whatever, Satan." "Odango Ata-" Mamoru stopped, blushing furiously as he realized how childish he was acting. Correction: how childishly she had conned him into acting. He, mature 18 year-old, refused to stoop to the level of this teenage girl. "Anyway...what's a *kid* like you doing out of school? Did you ditch? Or did you just whine till your parents let you stay home?" he sneered. Usagi almost opened her eyes and sat up, seething with righteous anger. How dare he? He had no clue how worn out she was from fighting each night! He had no idea how difficult it was to sludge through school, always tired. At the very last minute she dropped back down on the bench, flinging her arm over her eyes, just so she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of her. "Yeah," she muttered, "that's it. That's me. Always conning my parents into letting me out of class. Lazy Usagi. You know me so well." Mamoru paused, his senses giving off little warning bells at her quiet answer. There was so much sadness beneath the flippant tone. He would almost think he had hurt her feelings somehow, if it weren't for the fact that to presume he could affect her in any way was simply narcissistic on his part. "Look, bud, it's been great chatting with you, as always," she drawled, "but couldn't you just go away and look for some other *kid* to bother?" The darndest thing was, that was exactly what he'd been about to do. He hadn't even planned on coming over here in the first place! Except that he'd been passing by, and she looked so peaceful lying on the bench, glorying in the sun. Mamoru frowned those thoughts away. So what if he *had* been drawn to her? He was a guy, just like any other. Guys tended to notice how good girls looked in short shorts, and thin shirts, with miles of blonde hair cascading over a bench. At least, this guy did. But besides all that, Odango Atama was fun to tease . . . when she wasn't being infuriating. He thought he could handle brief, VERY brief, periods of talking to her. Then his thoughts would turn homicidal... Anyway, the plan had been to insult her, laugh at her, then leave. He'd done both, and he had planned on leaving the very second before she told him to do so. Of course now, perversely, he couldn't leave. It'd make her think she could order him around! And Chiba Mamoru could not be ordered around by a ditzy junior high school student. "No way. You are taking up the best spot in the park. I'm not going to let you, annoying as you may be, run me out of here." Usagi rolled her eyes, then realized he couldn't see them as she still had her arm over them, and decided to snort at him, instead. "Whatever. Just don't bother me and I'll try to forget you're here." Now, of course, *she* couldn't leave, because then he would think he'd won. Mamoru stood uselessly at the head of the bench, staring down at her with acute dislike. But *he* couldn't leave, because then she would think she'd won. After a few seconds of feeling foolish standing there, he growled down at her, "Move over. It's not your own private bench." She finally decided to look at him, baring angry blue eyes. "NO! I was here first!" "You're taking up the whole damn bench. Move over so I can sit down. Don't be so selfish," he snapped. "Sit on the ground, like a good little dog, right at my feet. Or, better yet, you can be true to your form, Satan, and go straight to hel-" Whatever she might have said was cut short as he forcibly hauled her upwards, wedging himself where her head used to be. She hissed angrily and refused to be moved. When the tumult was over, they found themselves in a very uncomfortable position. Usagi was shocked to find her head resting on his lap, and Mamoru was dismayed to notice this, too. They both stared at each other in disbelief, yet both too stubborn to rectify the situation. Usagi shut her eyes angrily, fully expecting him to make the move that would save her poor head from being...cradled on his lap. Mamoru sat back, waiting for her to finally get OFF him, completely sure that she'd back off soon enough and hightail it away, leaving him alone. Why on earth did he have to be so adamant today, anyway? He swore, Odango Atama brought out the very worst in him. So there they stayed, each waiting for the other to make the move. Somewhere along the line they finally realized neither of them was going to budge. Usagi opened her eyes and glared balefully up at Mamoru, and he returned the look. "Jerk," she muttered. "Brat," he responded, settling easily into the routine. Somehow, the shared animosity relaxed them both. Nothing had really changed, after all. They were still mortal enemies...it was just that, this time, one mortal enemy had her head on the other mortal enemy's lap. No biggie. Usagi shut her eyes against the sunlight again and shifted. His thighs were hard, muscular beneath her head... "You're on my hair," she informed him. He looked down from where he had been watching the children, doing his best to ignore her. "What?" "I said, you're on my hair." He looked down and noticed that he did, indeed, have several feet of golden hair trapped under his arm. He grabbed it (a little roughly, he had to admit) and rearranged it (shoved it was more like it) over his lap so it fell to the floor. He refused to think about how silky it felt. "Good grief. Why on earth would anyone want so much hair?" Her eyes flew open, only to squint shut when the sun hit them. Without conscious thought, Mamoru placed his hand at an angle above her head, blocking the light. She opened them again. "Why do you always have to insult my hair?! Or is it anything? What, you run out of insults so then you have to revert back to the hair? Is it back-up material or something? I'll have you know a lot of guys like my hair!" He sneered at her. "Yeah, right. I can't imagine a single guy out there who could possibly like you, Odango Atama." Usagi gasped softly, amazed at how much that one had hurt. But she'd be damned if she let him see her hurt. "And I can't imagine a girl who'd like you! Y-You cold-hearted Satan!" And that one hit him dead center. It was true. If any girl ever showed any interest in him, he'd push her away. He was dead inside. Cold and dead. Damn her for saying so. They looked away from each other resolutely, keeping themselves occupied by watching the children continue their games. Each nursed their hurts in silence. Several minutes later, Usagi dared to speak up. "Anyway, there is a boy who likes me," she lied. No, not a lie...a hope. "He's gorgeous, and sweet, and he's always there when I need him." He shifted his attention back to her, still smarting over her previous comment. Her head was turned towards the children, and he could study her profile at his leisure. He could tell she expected him to answer in some way, not quite sure if it would be derogatory or not, but probably expecting it was. He decided to surprise both of them. "Yeah? I'm glad for you," he responded quietly, trying to picture in his mind the type of man that Tsukino Usagi would give her heart to. He gave up. It was simply impossible picturing her with some teenage guy. He just drew a blank. When he stumbled out of his thoughts, he found that she'd turned to look at him and was staring, openmouthed. "Wow," she breathed, "you said something nice." He frowned, wondering what the hell he'd been thinking to actually encourage the girl. Now what would she do? Call him Satan again? "Thank you," she said. And those two words pole-axed him and left him staring. "And you?" she queried, genuinely curious. He looked at her grimly, searching for a trap. All he could find was simple inquisitiveness, though, so he acquiesced to his impulse. He'd always wanted to let someone know, anyway, how wondrous his dream-love was. That she was a dream and nothing more, Usagi didn't have to know. "Well," he began, smoothing back Usagi's hair without thought, "there is this one girl...She's gorgeous. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And she's so brave, and strong. Nothing can keep her down. And let me tell you, she doesn't have an easy life. But you can see just by looking into her eyes that there's joy in her...and that she can offer that happiness to so many others..." He trailed off, wondering to himself if he had been describing Sailor Moon or his Princess, and concluding that he'd described them both. "Wow," Usagi breathed again. Well, wasn't Mamoru just full of surprises today? She was almost jealous of this girl that could inspire such love from cold Mamoru. After a few seconds of having Mamoru absently stroke her hair, she got tired of waiting for him to get down off Cloud 9 and answer her questions. She reached up and pulled on the lock of hair that fell over his brow, guiding his head down. When he was bent over at the waist and only a few inches away from her, she looked up at his wide, shocked gaze and whispered conspirationally: "So, do I know her?" Mamoru felt his chest constrict, then whoosh out in a combination of relief and disappointment when he figured she had not been intent on kissing him, after all. He couldn't help a rumble of laughter escape, which Usagi could feel vibrate against her head. He straightened and sat back again, resuming his gentle exploration of Odango Atama's hair. Well, now he had to make it good. "I don't know. Maybe." Usagi squealed and clapped her hands. "Really?! Like, does she go to my school? I could hook you two up, you know," though that idea, for some odd reason, didn't fit so well in her mind. He enjoyed her enthusiasm, egging her on. "Maybe." "Maybe?! Will you stop just saying 'maybe'?! Dish up the dirt! I bet I can guess who it is...Give me a clue as to what she looks like," she pleaded. That one gave Mamoru pause. It was very disconcerting to suddenly realize that, frankly, he had the impression his dream princess and Sailor Moon would more closely resemble Usagi than anyone else he knew. However, saying "she looks like you" would be highly misleading, so he went for the basics. "She has long blonde hair. Blue eyes. Maybe your age or a little older. Gorgeous." Usagi's brow furrowed in thought. Strong, happy, brave? Jeez, that sure did sound like Minako-chan, come to think of it. Realization dawned and she bolted up in disbelief, golden hair flying around her. Usagi climbed over a startled Mamoru and grabbed his shirt with both hands. "No! Get outta here! Really?! I didn't even know you knew Minako-chan that well. Does she know?!" Although if she did, Usagi was going to have to kill her for keeping this all to herself. Mamoru was suddenly confused to find Usagi seated on his lap, gripping him by the shirt. "What?! Who? Your friend? The blonde one? NO! Jeez, Odango, grow up." Usagi let go of his shirt, disconcerted. "No? Well, but she's perfect! Just like you described! Hmm, let me see..." She settled comfortably, going through her long list of friends for a match. "Eh-hem. Odango Atama. Have you suddenly grown so fond of me you can't stand to be separated from me?" Mamoru asked as he shifted her weight on his thighs. "What are you talking about, Satan? You've been out in the sun too long," she said, casting a killer glare his way. "Oh, really? Then why the hell are you cuddled up on my lap?" he asked, smug when he saw the shock of realization appear on her face. "I am no-- Ewww! Honestly, Satan, I'm fourteen!" "What?!" he cried, insulted. "Hey, Odango, I'm not the one that dragged you on my lap. You climbed on it all by yourself!" "Yeah, but I didn't mean it in any way, you dork. And anyway, you did say the girl you like is my age, right? Is that even legal?" she taunted, angry with herself because she had, after all, enjoyed sitting on his lap. He was furious. Amazing how this girl made him go from hot to cold. It was maddening. "Shut up. It doesn't concern you. And how old is this mystery guy of yours, anyway?" he asked in his most insinuating voice. The tone that implied she was some rich, middle-aged, married man's mistress. "Ooh! You dirty-minded idiot!" she felt tears sting her eyes at his opinion of her. "What kind of manners did your parents teach you?! And I bet you just made that girl up, because no girl in her sane mind would ever *have* you!" That was a double hitter, and she didn't even know it. The mention of his late parents, which he couldn't even honor by remembering, drove him right over the edge. He raged at both insults because they were, essentially, true, and so kept to his ludicrous persecution. Yet, even as he said it, he knew he was going too far. "What do you mean, your mystery man is 'always there when you need him'? Need him for what? I'll bet he's taught you well. In just what way is he there for you, Odango?" She didn't know why she did it. Perhaps because she was so disappointed after seeing the kindness he kept checked inside. Or maybe because she'd almost started liking him, thought they could be friends. Maybe because he was defiling her every dream, turning every cherished thought she had of Tuxedo Mask dirty. Perhaps it had simply gotten too much, and she could no longer deal with the humiliation of last night along with his terribly unjust insults. "In a way you'll never be, Satan! And you want to know what he's taught me, you bastard, I'll show you what he's taught me!" She hauled back and punched Mamoru square in the jaw. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued... Notice how I like to leave off at the darndest part? It's cuz I usually run out of ideas after that, and have to regroup for the next scene. I really don't mean to do it! Okay, I know you've been waiting all week for just this, right? RIGHT?! Well, here it is: Ode to a wet bike seat, damn hill from my dorm, and that kid who cut me off. (flutes...) The bike seat is smushy, it slushes as I~I bike After he who cut off my path... He thinks I didn't notice, or crashed into a tree, Doesn't know he'll soon meet my wrath... Near, far, wherever you are Buddy, watch out cuz I'm after you... I'm going to steal your bike Then you'll walk in the ra~in And see how you like it then! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ come on guys! I'll keep on torturing you guys with this ongoing saga if you don't write!