“Hi, my name is...- iii”
“U-SA-GI.”
“....ah....”, squeaked the young mother.
Ami slipped her hand to the fore, snatching the piece of scribbled on notepaper that Usagi used to jot down the information. She compared it to the blinking arrivals announcement overhead.
“I see...”, murmured the ever studious young woman. “The numbers were reversed. The flight we’re looking for...is across from here.”
The infant, so aptly nick-named Chibi-Usa, gave a hearty giggle at that pronouncement.
Looking down the main causeway of the airport, an audible groan escaped Makoto’s lips. “We better get moving then...I just hope, Minako won’t be upset.”
Chibi-Usa wrinkled her nose and cooed, working her lips as she bubbled at her mother.
Usagi glowered towards her child but none-the-less carried the bundle from Makoto’s arms. She nuzzled her face into the crook of Chibi-Usa’s neck and shoulder. Eliciting another bout of giggles. Stubby fingers found their way into Usagi’s infamous – at least among her friends – odangos and began to tug at them with very little mercy.
“Matte! Matte!”, whined Usagi.
“Harder Chibi-Usa, teach your mother a lesson.”
“Mako-chan...That’s cruel – Don’t encourage her!”
Makoto gave a roll of her shoulders as the lot of them caroused down the main causeway. Ami stifled a laugh as Usagi wrestled with her babe. The quickest route had them exiting whatever terminal they were at to hail a mini-bus, or Quick-Tran to the next massive housing.
But even before they had made it to a proper Quick-Tran point of embarkation, an elongated polished to shine Limousine coasted to a halt before them. The three women paused in their trek as the whirring sound of motors of cogs eased the Limo’s darkly tinted windows down.
“Minna,” her contralto timbre broke the shocked silence, but it was a sound they had been accustomed to hearing her telecasted interviews, songs and phonecalls.
“Minako-chan...! US...”
Usagi’s exclamation was halted with the palm of Ami’s hand on her mouth. Meekly, the Child Psychologist glanced to her friends and offered a soft, “Gomen.”
Pushing the door opened the Starlet eased herself from the cab, in a motion of fluid grace that only Minako had perfected. She flashed that patented smile before she engulfed each woman in a fierce hug. Pausing finally at Usagi. Minako’s gaze was drawn instantly towards the baby, “Almost a replica, Usagi. She’s beautiful...” A wide curious gaze met Minako’s own, berthing another smile from the Songstress.
“Hate t’burst your bubble, babe...” announced a basso tone, dripping with a southern tang.
The American pulled himself from the other side of the Limo, long arms draped lazily upon the top of the vehicle. He dipped his head towards the horizon from where they had just come. Cresting the minute hill off in the distance was a swarm of running people. Though distorted, thanks to the heated asphalt, it wasn’t difficult to discern that the horde that had greeted Minako - began to trail desperately in want of their goddess.
“They ain’t gon’ give up till they got a piece of you. I suggest y’get your friends in,” commented Terry.
Sparing very little time, the group dove into the cab of the limo, with Minako bringing up the rear. Settling in Ami and Makoto peered through the rear window, watching the encroaching sea of bodies. Incredibly, the mass had closed the gap. Terry rapped on the privacy divider, separating the cab from its frontal orifice. The driver only nodded his understanding. With a sudden acceleration the limo jerked into movement. Within the back, the women jostled to and fro. Usagi had collided heads with Ami, pulling a pained outcry from both parties. The baby, though, found the entire thing extremely delightful.
The mass thankfully shrunk as they furthered from the airport. A wave of relief blanketed Minako, her body slumped against the doorframe; the adrenaline rush was still tingling through her, numbing her fingertips, but the effects slowly wavered. She hadn’t expected this sort of response to her arrival. Not for a star that’s had her fair share of overexposure and tribulations in a career that had spanned near ten years, give or take a few. Most would have faded into obscurity. Sometimes, Minako had wished for that – wished for that moment of quiet contentment...The kind that was only shared with the one she could bare her soul to with little or no words at all.
But why she kept pushing herself to the brink – she never knew.
“Some welcome to Japan, eh?” A gruff voice pronounced.
Minako lazed her gaze towards its source to only find that the three women were pleasantly surprised at Terry’s slightly accented, yet perfect Japanese. A wink was offered to the singer.
Clearing her voice, “Gomenasai, minna,” said Minako, “This is Terry Lapps,” breaking into English suddenly – as she knew, Terry preferred his native tongue above all others. “Terry, my lifelong friends, Ami...”
“The Pediatrician/Psychologist,” mused Terry. The remark garnered a dip of Ami’s head as an acknowledgement.
“...Makoto,” continued Minako.
“Culinary student and co-owner of The Crown.” Makoto beamed proudly.
“...And Usagi,” concluded the icon.
“Yeah, can’t forget her – the rabid fan,” teased the wide receiver.
“Minako-chan...,” replied Usagi who knew enough English to know that was a prod – no doubt orchestrated by the Singer; she continued to bounce the child who now lay asleep in her arms.
Minako grinned impishly and mouthed her apologies towards Usagi before looking to Terry and adding in Japanese, “You forgot to mention mother & narcoleptic housewife.”
As if on queue Usagi launched into how she did more than those things. Just as Minako knew. But she had been impressed with Usagi – who in truth worked as a guidance counselor at Juuban Middle School, alongside with a fellow classmate – Osaka Naru, who became a teacher at the school.
“So how far’s this hotel – I’m’a ‘bout ready t’pass out, here...” interrupted Terry in English soon after the laughter rippled through the cab.
Usagi and Makoto were at a loss to how respond; never having been versed in the language, they were left looking helpless. Ami, though – fared better but replying was a trial for her. As she tried to offer an answer, Terry grew tired of wading through the broken speech and glanced towards the Singer. Minako darted her eyes towards her beau meeting his gaze evenly, not appreciating his insistence on using English to express his needs.
She began softly and conveyed a subtle warning in English, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” concluding in her native tongue, “We’re not going to a hotel, I opted for something cozier.”
But the warning fell on deaf ears, as he replied simply and stubbornly, “A’right, your call – catchin’ a lil shut eye, babe. Wake me when we get there, aite?”
Terry eased himself back against the plush leather interior, nursing a little cocktail that he had previously poured for himself. His arrogant comment left an air of tensed ambiance among the rest of the occupants – at which, Minako was too dumbfounded to refute only left to apologize for. Inwardly, she knew it was the American thinking – he hadn’t meant to come off sounding as such, but when you’re from a country that boasted opulence and power – You want to make sure the lesser know who the Alpha is. As it was taught to Terry Lapps.
The rest of the ride was one of quiet chatter – catching up on lost time, guided by Usagi’s incessant tittering. Thankfully, the tension slipped into oblivion as time stood still for the four friends.
But something dawned on Ami, “Minako-chan?”
“Mm...?”
“Did you know we weren’t going to be at the right terminal?”
She nodded quietly.
“Uso!,” interjected both Makoto and Usagi.
“How?”
Minako lifted her gaze and considered the question and Usagi carefully – the woman had grown, surely, becoming a mother as well was a transformation all its own. But Usagi had never completely let go of that child-like wonderment and excitable nature. Her mouth still moved faster than the speed of light. Usagi’s thought process had no chance of catching up. So she still remained as she always had. The one thing Minako counted on.
Quietly, Minako turned her attention towards the passing scenery outside. “I think we all know the answer.”
“Nani? Nani? Nani?”
Whether they remembered Terry being there was moot. The cab was soon drowned in their gale of jocularity even in the midst of Usagi’s query.
Whatever moonlight was pouring from the diamond-studded sky, it allowed shadows and light to play over the aging edifice. Some would have thought this ominous, but for Minako – it was a comfort. Terry was still tucked, fast asleep in the limo, she didn’t have the heart to wake him, not just yet. After having brought the threesome to their respective homes, this was the only time the singer thought she would have time to herself. As she crossed the paved courtyard, a soft glow had shown through the Shoji doors, just as Usagi said it would be. It would mean only one thing.
Discarding her sandals, the icon carefully eased herself up the wooden stairway and rapped lightly on the doors announcing her arrival before sliding them open. Despite being well beyond tired, Minako’s body was urged forward, while her eyes searched the interior. The tatami mats were well kept, and a table had been set in the center of the room – it was topped with a tea set that held freshly made brew, apparent with the tendril of smoke that trailed from its depths. Bonsai plants dressed the perimeter, she noted – designed to add a splash of color and balance out the Spartan decor.
“This is where she lived...”, was her soft prose. Not really registering what she had just uttered.
“Minako...?” edged a voice from the fringes of the softly lit room. Then, a gentle scuffing of feet on the tatami was heard soon after that.
Automatically, her eyes lowered towards the floor, and a half smile was given at the sight that greeted her. Kneeling, the woman scooped her one-time guide. “Artemis.” She immediately coddled the plush ‘toy’, holding him fast to her. At which he offered a gleeful snort of contentment basking in this long awaited moment with his former charge. Far be it from Artemis to confess she had meant more to him than just.
After a prolonged minute or to Minako set him down. Plastic eyes peered upward at the starlet. By no means young, and barely reaching her prime. How he admired her.
“Luna and I prepared as much as we could on short notice, the futons are set in the next room.”
Minako afforded a tired sigh coupled with the stifling of a yawn, “Thank you, Artemis – we...I really appreciate you doing this.”
“It’s nothing,” he softly replied. The plush toy waddled towards the entryway, “Has he been good to you?” The question had been long in coming; it was the nature of the guardian.
Minako’s attention remained affixed as Artemis straggled past her, the question was expected – but still caught her off guard. “He has been.” Another question loomed in the back of the cat’s mind; one needn’t have been a telepath to sense that. But before he had a chance to press, Minako rose to her feet and murmured her reply, “It’s late Artemis – The flight was long.”
“Ah, soo.” He was disappointed, Minako knew. Taking the hint though Artemis, eased himself further from the inner sanctum of the temple. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Ja, oyasumi.” She acknowledged with a nod.
Now...alone, perhaps for the very first time in as many months, the Singer slipped from her leather jacket, lobbing it aside unceremoniously upon the floor – she wondered if the miko would have thrown a fit at that, a tickle of a chuckle slipped from passed her lips. Her feet carried her to where the miko slept; closing her eyes she found herself willing to hear it. Minako could feel the lingering presence...now, if she could only hear it.
Just once...
The reprimands.
The thrown challenges.
The comfort behind the intensity.
And for the second time in her charmed life – Aino Minako was denied. Only the rustling of the leaves that clung to aging boughs spoke in reply.
Fuck.
Her stomach churned until it collapsed in on itself. That would have been how she would have described it feeling like. The plane banked widely before pointing its nose towards the earth. The movement caused another wave of nausea to blanket over her hunched frame. And the complimentary ‘discharge’ bag did very little to ease her discomfort of not only her belly in turmoil, but that aggravating itch upon at her ear. Friendly words though, lent some aid. Even if those words were offered from the lips of a stranger.
“Just a few tic-tocs more, luv – ‘At’s a girl...”
The miko had been paired with an elderly Englishman whom in a way, she had used. She really couldn’t remember what he had rambled on about during the fourteen-hour flight, but the incessant blather was a welcome reprieve from her anxieties. Now, as the hours turned into minutes, Rei’s resolve had deteriorated to mere nothing.
The airliner shuddered as its landing gear berthed from beneath the cargo raven-haired woman screwed her eyes closed waiting for the inevitable – none too soon her silent prayers were answered as the plane touched the earth. Letting loose her held-in breath, Rei slowly peeled her eyes opened; the cabin was alive with passengers scurrying to be the first to disembark.
“Pardon the old boy, miss...As much as I enjoyed your company – I do believe I’m losing circulation.”
Rei blinked repetitiously as her eyes darted from the swarm of people in the cabin, towards the elderly male’s face to her hand which hand gone white knuckled about his wrist.
“o-oh,” quickly her hand loosened before bolting from her seat. Her circulation regulated, sending a rush of color to her cheeks. “I...don’t like planes, I’m sorry for that,” was her quick, maybe slightly muttered prose. She had hoped that lame excuse was enough.
The Englishman gave an amused chuckle and a pat at the back of the miko’s hand, “No need to explain – There are certain things that make most notably do not agree with us in life, but...we have to face them. It’s the risk we take – it’s why it’s called life.” He smiled and winked, “Now, pay no mind to this codger, but flying for that long, me bladder’s about te burst.”
Rei’s lips twitched into a half smile as she allowed the elder man to pass. Her seatmate proffered a quick English two-fingered salute and was quickly swallowed into the fray. She remained there till it was light in traffic enough for the miko to fall in step. The words that that gentleman had given, was the proverbial slap she needed.
Sooner than expected, the miko had found herself expelled from the tunnels. Tossing the semi-filled contents of that pungent paper bag in the nearest receptacle, Rei made for the nearest phones.
“11:25, Artemis or Luna should be there.”
The warmth of it was overwhelming. So inviting – to be blanketed within it would be a blessing, she firmly believed this. The pain was gone from her physically – no longer was she suffering from explosive headaches that incapacitated her almost on a daily basis. She didn’t even have the means to beg the heavens for it to stop.
But she couldn’t leave just yet. Denying that eternal rest, she lingered. A battle was ensuing just below. Opulent colors, pink, blue, white...and flame-red illuminated the darkened night sky. They waned in their intensity after an engulfing column of fire spewed forth. Its victim writhed in agony at its deliverance. The pained scream soon silenced.
The Senshi remained rooted, her elegant gloved hands were extended; limply they dropped to her sides. Her comrade, called for her. In a trance, the Senshi could only respond with a soft three syllable choked sob. The Senshi collapsed to her knees, then, a sorrowful cry erupted from her lips.
“MINAKO!”
Before she could respond, the light gently curled about her form and pulled her home.
The tinny ring of the telephone blared, the woman was jockeyed from her restless sleep against her lover – the dream again – in aggravation she whimpered softly, “No...don’t leave Terry, a few more minutes.”
“Might be Dennis and th’crew baby, can’t leave them stranded at the airport,” he kissed her forehead gently and snaked his way from her.
The heat and gentle thrumming of his heart left her. Curling up under the mass futon blanket, she peered at the handsome, well-defined, albeit naked man. They had made love last night, despite being overwhelmingly tired – but as always, he was gentle with her, and not once but twice was she bought to the brink and rode that wave of exquisite ecstasy.
She had asked him to love her – and he readily complied. He always did. Minako needed to feel that white-hot release, it was the only time she reached that subspace and forgot every earthly confinement and the weight of her heavy soul. Deep cocoa eyes focused on her young lover’s back. A smirk trailed over her lips. Silently she prowled from the covers of the futon.
Minako still had it, those feathery quiet movements; once at her target, her arms curled about Terry’s taut waistline, with her fingernails cloying gently at his abdomen, she laughed softly and nipped his shoulder. He chuckled and held the receiver to her. Quizzically she eyed the piece...
“Who? Don’t know anyone by that name, sweets. Y’gots th’Dawg on the line wit’chu. Talk t’me.”
An American? “Ahh, sorry...”,Rei furrowed her brows, Did she dial the right number? The priestess began rifling through her knapsack, only to pause in stark realization. No...
The raven-haired woman swallowed hard, pressing the earpiece harder to her ear. The miko listened intently, she heard scuffing in the background. There. A laugh. It was her laugh. It hadn’t changed. The American quickly mumbled a reply, his hand no doubt on the speaker end of the phone.
“...some...chick...lookin’...Artie... said...no...here.”
The phone was handed off. Rei’s grip about the inanimate object tightened, rapt with the need to hear her. A breath. Her breath. Minako hadn’t covered the mouthpiece as she offered her comment to the American.
“...You spoke in English again, didn’t you Terry? What did we talk about, honey....”
“it slipped out, you know me,” was the American’s protest, “May’ve been the tall one, Makoto? Finish up the call, I needja...”
A few more sounds played out...inaudible at first, but Rei was able to make out the quick breaths taken and her soft mewl. But they stopped; she must have regained her senses.
“Makoto? I’m sorry about Terry...If you’re looking for Artemis, he could be at Usagi’s...we’re still on for the picnic, h...”
The miko had no reason to.
No reason to feel the pain, no reason to feel the rage – she had no reason. But ‘Yesterday’, was all that filled her mind.
I shouldn’t’ve come...What the hell were you THINKING? WHAT, Rei?
In one breath, Minako opened the floodgates of her memories. Rei had slammed the phone back unto its cradle, ending the call abruptly.
On the other end a steady beep greeted the Singer.
-Minako’s little dream sequence was a little snippet from PGSM Act 47 – Watch it.
-It was a tad tricky to write up the phone coversation, switching from what was happening on Terry/Minako's end, to Rei's end, sorry for the confusion!
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