“Mouth: alpha – vii.”
Usagi slid her hands from the steering wheel after parking her vehicle along the curb; gently the long-haired woman let her body thump against the cushion of her seat. Her bangs draped casually over her eyes so with an exasperated exhale, her molasses hues were sent chaotically about her countenance. Her mind ran through the imaginary checklist that held her mental notes. The baby had been dropped off with her mother and her replacement for work had been situated. The day had just begun but she already felt the wear seep into her demure body. But it was soon chased from her as she caught her second wind. Righting herself, a mischievous grin coursed her lips. Usagi pulled her hair into her trademarked hairstyle, which she insisted was a part of her legend – the eternal double buns – it made it difficult for anyone to resist grabbing them to see if they’re really…real.
Tearing from the pit of her car, the young mother bounded straight for the double sliding doors of her childhood hang out. It was here that Usagi still could retain an air of immaturity and no one would think her less because of it. Clopping in on heeled shoes and a three-piece skirt-suit painted an odd picture. Thankfully…the counter served to put a halt to her almost out of control motoring. Delicate hands braced the chrome surface before one dipped into the pit of her purse to retrieve The Crown Passport. A sort of identification for teens who visit this all encompassing hang out.
Behind the counter, a wiry, short-haired man looked towards Usagi questioningly. Motoki had been a servant for The Crown since its opening and a friend to the tribe of special women that frequented the establishment. None of the women though, were as special as his fiancée, Makoto. The soft eyed, tall brunette – the one that stole his heart with a simple gift of a puke green muffler; she had knitted the article when she was only fourteen.
“May I?”
“Usagi-chan…”
“Yes?” delighted the bright-eyed woman.
“You do know that’s not needed – you can come and go as you please,” quipped Motoki, now the proud owner of The Crown.
A sheepish smile was brandished, “…Force of habit.”
Motoki nodded a bit, before leaning forth and murmuring, “Besides…the passport is outdated.”
“Uso! I’ll have to renew,” decided Usagi. “Is Mako-chan…?”
“Yeah, she’s been waiting since nine,” he paused, “What are you two planning?”
Usagi beamed her patented smile and waved Motoki’s query off. “Give my love to Kakemichi-kun!”
At that, the effervescent woman trundled into the depths of the neon lighted establishment. Motoki trawled his gaze towards a decently sized fish tank. Housed within was his lifelong pet – a lazy eyed turtle. There his turtle frolicked in his domain, wading in bliss at the bottom of the tank, partially filled with water.
“What do you think they’re up to, Kakemichi…”
The turtle bubbled his reply.
“Soo. I refuse to clean up their mess then.”
--
The door to the private room where they had always met at swung open. Nestled within was a time-capsule. The décor had changed with the turning of the years, but the main components remained. Pictures of the women – younger – were plastered upon opulently colored pressboards, hugging the walls. Their lives had also been captured, marking the progress of each of the women. Still present as well, were the plastic throw-back 1960s-esque chairs. Blue, Orange, Green, Pink and Red represented the banner colors for each of the now older senshi. The seats were huddled about a circular table. Ami had once remarked that it likened them to Arthur’s Knights. Perhaps they were parallel to the medieval legend…
But that was long ago. No more fighting. No more Youmas.
Though there was something more pressing to deal with, tougher than any foes they’d ever had faced. And it was among two of their own.
Makoto eyed the pieces from their distant past before pressing the earpiece of her cellular at her ear. At the sound of the door thudding closed, the tall brunette coursed her gaze towards the entryway. She offered a salutary wave towards Usagi. Even before Usagi had thrown her question out, Makoto replied with a mouthed, “Ami-chan.”
Nodding in understanding, Usagi beelined herself towards the coffee pot nestled at the crook of the room; all ready helping herself to a healthy cup of java. The taller woman furrowed her brows at that and sauntered her way over to the mother of one. Genially she snatched the cup from Usagi’s hands. Much to Usagi’s behest.
“NO. It’s not as if you need that stuff Usagi…” Makoto paused, balancing the cup in one hand and evading Usagi. “Ah…hold on a bit,” she replied towards the other woman still on the phone. But as she pivoted about, she was met with soft glistening eyes. Relenting, Makoto shoved the mug back into Usagi’s hands. The unassuming beauty settled herself upon the forest green plastic seat. In a few manipulatory motions of her fingers, the brunette had married her cellular to an ingenious little Japanese device that served as a sort of speakerphone.
“You’re on, Ami-chan.”
There was a splash of white noise soon accompanied with a few whirs and clicks.
“I can’t believe you two.” It was the first time her voice sounded accusatory.
Usagi and Makoto looked to one another after the initial cringe, “We’re not doing anything.”
“Yet.” A pause, “Is she still there?”
Makoto had nodded before she realized Ami wasn’t there with them, but instead on call for work. “Hai – since Minako and Terry were at the temple. Three would have been a crowd.”
“Ami-chan? Aren’t you the least bit curious…,” asked Usagi.
There was a soft methodical clicking in the background. The women knew that Ami was deep in thought; she always toyed with her ballpoint pen, depressing the pen tip out and in again.
“…It’s not my business – It’s always been between them, we all knew this – even before they did. Besides,” paused the doctor, “Aren’t you two supposed to be at work?”
“Rei needs a ride to the grounds anyway. We’ll make it into our jobs…later..it’ll be…on the…way.”
“Makoto-chan…”, enunciated the soft spoken doctor, “You’re not good with lying. You’re going to spy on them too, aren’t you? I expected that from Usagi...”
“Hey!”
“ The main thing is…This isn’t our affair…”
“We have to make it our affair then – I don’t know about you both, but I personally don’t like the tension…”, confessed Usagi. “All they’ve been doing is…being harsh to one another. They’re two grown women on the outside, but…still the same fourteen year old kids – it’s…frustrating!”
There was a stunned silence. The eternally bunned woman glanced about, “What?”
“Pot. Kettle. Black,” mused Makoto
And a laugh erupted from the speakerphone. Usagi though, was confused. As the laughter died, Ami piped up once more, sighing out,
“You two do what you want, EXCEPT tamper with their relationships…There are more than JUST them involved.”
“Terry.”
“Hai.”
“Terry-chan’s a nice man,” this garnered an arced brow from the brunette, “…He’s just…not who I imagined Minako-chan with.”
“But she IS. Terry-chan was her personal choice. And from what I see…they’ll be together for a long while…”
“This is one time, Ami-chan,” began Makoto, her words tentatively hanging.
“…We hope you’re wrong,” finished Usagi.
The conversation ended abruptly as the doctor was summoned via pager. She clicked off the conference call with her long time friends and began to work a knot loose that settled at the nape of her neck. Tucked into her leather office chair, Ami whirled to face her windows; she glanced out her panoramic view over Tokyo…a single thought traveled through her mind.
Like her friends…she held the same hopes and wishes. Though in hindsight that’s all they were…Disney Wishes.
--
At center stage the only objects and people that needed to be there was a crimson grand piano, the maestro to the piano and the singer. But scurrying to and fro was a conga line made up of stagehands. They had been dressing the colossal stage for the upcoming concert set to occur in a few days time. Everyone in the entourage knew how particular Minako could be but she never demanded. She was the type of woman people would gladly do anything for just to be rewarded with that flash of a smile.
The American crew didn’t have a chance to bathe in that glory. Minako was graced on stage, her luxurious raven-mane spilled over the top of the grand piano while the side of her face pressed against its fiberglass and her fingers had been splayed. They curled slowly beginning to drum to a nameless beat. She barely spoke and acknowledged anyone around her. Minako had notably been…distracted.
Then a gentle tune of a lullaby echoed in the depths of the piano – someone began tickling the pristine ivory keys; she didn’t have to lift her eyes to confirm who it was. A smile creased over her lips content with listening to the heartbeat of the instrument.
“You know…you’ve got everyone up in a dither…” the man’s voice cooed. Dripping in a soothing Anglo-Saxon lilt, “…Venus.”
“Zoicite…,” murmured the Star before pulling herself from the top of the piano, “…Please don’t call me that – But I’m glad you finally made it.” Her eyes turned to regard the silver-haired, debonair man. He had been reborn and recast as a star in his own right. Spawning an immense following in Europe, he was slated to appear for a duet with her.
Cerulean-Silver pools rested upon Minako, searching her face before nodding, “You know how beauty sleep goes…”
Suddenly with dramatic flare, the once gentle chime of the piano had begun to crescendo into a blaring mosh of clashing notes. Zoicite’s gaze darted towards a particular area and as if on queue, Terry had made his way into the mammoth stadium. Clad all in black, the football star wound his way near the stage. He barely offered niceties to those he passed and settled into a seat.
Confused Minako trailed Zoicite’s gaze straight towards a familiar sight – a casual bob of Terry’s head was given towards her, she replied with a meek smile. A soft, yet audible groan escaped her lips not soon after, “…I was hoping he’d sleep in today…” That garnered a chuckle from the pianist.
“Lover’s tit for tat, then?” iterated Zoicite.
With a shake of her head as her eyes skimmed the sheaf of music in her grasp, Minako offered, “It’s…it was childish really. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” The silver haired Pianist had a knack for drawing out what vexed Minako when she least expected. And that bothered her; she had grown accustomed to offering vague replies. Zoicite was her proverbial irritating sibling. The singer drew her gaze down to check the timepiece graced about her slender wrist.
“It’s the same time since last you looked. A minute ahead perhaps…” mused Zoicite, “…but still the same hour. Are we planning to leave me after we’ve JUST been reuinited…?”
Minako chuckled.
“I’ll take that, as a yes. And where are you going?”
“It’s not your business, is it?”
His fingers flared to life once more, making love to the keys and eliciting melodical, haunting chords that seemed to lay those who heard it, into a trance. Zoicite was a master. He laughed.
“Au contraire, amor…It becomes my business if you stick me with Mister, ‘I-have-Minako-Aino-and-You-don’t,’…I’d like to know at least how to fend for myself.”
“An outing with a friend,” she tested.
“Hence the fight?”
“No…yes…no. Somewhat.”
Zoicite turned his ghostly eyes to regard Terry. As always the muscle bound lout –handsome as he was – had kept his possessive eyes pinioned upon Minako. The Star’s gaze remained rooted on the music sheets in her hands. If she noticed, Zoicite had no idea.
“I’m surprised he’s letting you off the leash…”
Minako lifted her eyes…locking them with Zoicite’s own.
With a cluck of his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Zoicite remarked knowingly, “Oh…he isn’t is he? My my my…You’re actually going to run from him for once. Whoever this friend is…must be worth it.”
In them beyond the hurt he delivered he saw that she knew it to be true. Aino Minako was a person of extreme pride – but someone had stripped that from her. In the entertainment world, rumors circled. It didn’t take too long to hear the juice on the Japanese Star. She had been tied to an American icon. He was known not only for his fickle womanizing, but a volatile temper that always got physical. Terry had been the first to show Minako the benefit of a touch.
“That…that was crass, even for you.”
He shrugged, “You owe him nothing.”
Minako replied with a scoff and a muttered, “Except everything.”
The platinum blonde continued to bathe the stage in a soft sonata. Zoicite and the Singer had a complex relationship, made similar for the love of music that they shared and their otherworldly need to keep his master to her princess apart at all costs. But…that scenario played itself out. Now they share a competitive nature to best the other on the song charts. How they Loved to Hate to Love one another.
“What I consider crass is the fact you’re holding on, just because you think you need to.” Zoicite paused as the stage director edged into view and signaled for the duo to begin the first strains of the soundchecks. He acknowledged with a singular arc of his silvery brow before continuing candidly, “For one who champions Love, you need a few lessons in it.”
Minako laughed, lowering her gaze back unto the sheet music replying softly, “…Tell me again, Zoicite – I need a lesson in love…while you cuddle a body pillow every night?”
He grinned, while he absently pressed the ivory keys with much more fervor than realized, “Touche…” his eyes darted to the beginning bars of the music – the sounds of the newest song to be released in a few weeks soon dressed the stage.
“How apropos – Let’s take it from this verse Minako-chan,” began Zoicite.
‘…I only want you happy…even if it’s not with me…
…Maybe one day you’ll open up your eyes and you’ll see.’
…Only time will tell, the mystery has yet to unfold
…Who’s gonna feel the warmth
…And the other left in the cold?’
“Do the words Venus Love Me Chain mean anything in you?”, she threatened.
“All too vividly. Let’s try another song….”
--
Her reflection mocked her. Even through the rear-view mirror of Usagi’s car it still did. This was the first day that she had awoken with a start – one that wasn’t induced by her cryptic portends guised in macabre dreams. But instead, she woke with a knot in her belly her body wracked with nervous tension. Because, the raven-haired woman knew…It would just be her and the Singer today, doing...whatever Minako wished. The others claimed they were busy.
“You look like a grump, Rei-chan.”
She scoffed sarcastically, “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I thought I just did?”, sincerely replied Usagi.
Makoto turned her body to face Rei, the tallest senshi in the car chuckled amusedly as the miko fiddled with her leg brace, “At least it’s not broken. But you’ll need to leave that brace on until the tendon relaxes once more, leave it alone Rei.” Wrought with motherly instincts, the brunette reached forth and smacked the miko’s deft fingers away from the Velcro leashing.
Rei pulled back with a sharp intake of her breath. Her lips thinned, but to her dismay, Usagi and Makoto both grinned all the more toothily. They were in too good a mood. And it bothered her. Rolling her eyes irately, Rei cast her eyes towards the outside, they drew closer towards their destination apparently, because Usagi began talking to herself for the right directions.
“Thank you…for putting me up, Makoto.”
“They were willing to switch, Terry-cha--…”
Rei visibly went rigid, quickly Makoto rectified as she continued.
“…Lapps-san was willing to be in a hotel.”
The miko was quiet for only a minute but within that time unwarranted images spurred into her mind. There they slept on her futons, she didn’t want to think of what else occurred. With a shake of her head, she answered indifferently, “They were there before I arrived. Wouldn’t’ve been…right.”
The car eased to a halt, bringing Rei further out of her webbed thoughts. Her eyes searched the area before her. The skyline boasted a prominent structure; looking as if it were being held together by Popsicle sticks. Soon screams were exalted towards the crystalline blue skies of Japan. Lowering her eyes, balloons tailed helplessly in little children’s hands as they paraded on the grounds with their parental units.
“An amusement park?”
Usagi grinned, “Hai. This is the place Minako said to meet.” Then a sharp pain surged at her side – she was just elbowed! Rather harshly at that. Wide eyed the bunned woman turned her eyes towards Makoto, the source, realizing what she had previously stated. Quickly she amended, “…to meet you, that is... because…we have to get to work. Like. Right now.” she rushed to explain.
A lame excuse, thought Rei. But none the less reluctantly went along with the game.
Pushing her shoulder to the door, Rei eased herself from the car, suddenly feeling rather self-conscience about herself. As if reading her mind, Usagi offered encouragingly,
“You look fine, Rei-chan.”
“We’ll see you in a few,” added Makoto.
In less than a batting of an eye and nevermind saying her goodbyes, the little vehicle sped off leaving Rei in a cloud of debris filled haze.
--
Usagi turned the wheel sharply at the suggestion of Makoto’s and slid haphazardly into a freed parking space. The odango haired woman arced a brow at her long time friend.
Makoto nodded, and pulled out a bag pregnant with extra clothes. “The essentials: baseball cap, jeans, pullovers and jackets.”
“We’re set, let’s go!”
Back to The Song That You Sing Index - Back to Sailor Moon Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction