First Truths

In

2 weeks later

No one could say that Usagi was sad. She wasn't, not really. She laughed and joked and klutzed out like she usually did. But somehow, she was...different. Her school-friends really didn't know what it was: maybe a certain shade to her eyes, or the way it took her a little longer to react to their teasing, as if she had to weigh whether answering back was worth the effort, or the fact that she never finished her lunch anymore. That was the biggest clue of all, of course, because never in the great history of Tsukino Usagi's life had she not finished her lunch. Had it been a one-time occurrence, it could be attributed to some freak chance...but two weeks straight? Inconceivable!

Sometimes her classmates would catch her looking down at her desk, doing nothing in particular. She didn't take notes, nor sleep through class, nor try to sneak her lunch out. She just sat. Silent. On one occasion, Miss Haruna had called her name three times with no reaction forthcoming. Irritated, she'd stepped up to Usagi's desk and demanded her attention. And Usagi had simply lifted her face and Miss Haruna stumbled back in surprise for surely that composed, quiet face could not be Usagi's. Her eyes were opaque, her gaze listless, and her voice...

"Yes, Miss Haruna?"

That's what Usagi had said, with no theatrics and no wailing and no "I wasn't doing anything, honest!" Just that quiet "Yes, Miss Haruna" as if she were asking the time to some stranger on the street. Miss Haruna had had nothing to say to that quiet voice. What could she demand, after all? Miracle of miracles, Usagi had been bringing in her homework all week! So whereas before she would have scolded her for not paying attention, this time she just shook her head slightly and mumbled an "excuse me, Usagi," as if she were the guilty student caught daydreaming. She'd stepped away and let Usagi be for the simple reason that that quiet girl who stared at her desk was not Usagi. It couldn't be.

If anyone had asked, she would have denied it vehemently but, truth was, Miss Haruna wanted the old Usagi back.

And the other Senshi knew, of course, though they didn't say anything. They knew she was simply going through the motions of living, but that, really, no one was home. A part of Usagi, the part that dazzled strangers and made friends out of enemies, had been left behind.

Usagi, deciding to give her love, had given it completely. And come hell or high water, she could not, would not take it back for herself. That kind of love, Minako had whispered to her silent friends, can never be reclaimed...it's a once-in-a-lifetime kind of deal.

So the Senshi worried, and fretted, and cursed, because they knew exactly to whom Usagi had given that vital part of herself, and who had not had the tiniest bit of sense to accept it.

Chiba Mamoru, idiot extraordinaire.

It might have made them feel a bit better to know that that selfsame idiot extraordinaire had not been having an easy time of it, either. He haunted his apartment like a specter, restlessly moving from kitchen to couch to bedroom, never settling in one place.
His princess wouldn't come. Since Usagi had walked out the door, leaving him feeling as if a semi truck had gleefully driven over him, his dream princess had refused to make an appearance at night. He no longer dreamt and, so, he no longer slept. His sleep was even lonelier than his life, so why bother? And it hurt so very much, this betrayal from his princess.

On the fourth night of dreamlessness, he'd stormed out into his balcony, raised his head to the moon, and demanded an explanation.

"Why?" he'd screamed, uncaring of his neighbors. "Why won't you come? I gave up everything for you. I gave up...I gave her up for you. You can't leave me now, do you understand? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

He'd damned her, and broken a pot of perfect sanguine-red rosebuds with his bare hands, raging until he'd finally dragged himself back inside with his bloody hands and wondered if he'd been cursing his princess or himself.