Chapter Text
Usagi had a late start to the day, but that had been her norm for a while now. The familiar clink of cups, the low hum of arcade games, and the warm scent of coffee drifted through Crown—the neighborhood café and arcade that had become her small haven. Light filtered in through the big front windows, painting soft patterns over the worn tabletops and the posters on the walls. With her boyfriend constantly on tour or practicing, meeting with other artists, or attending social events, at least she knew she could rely on Crown to always be here.
“Good day, Usagi?” Motoki greeted her as she sat down, his slightly dimmed eyes still an odd sight for her. It had been three years since that incident, but she knew better than anyone how terribly it had affected him. She was certainly no better herself.
“As good as it can…” Not much changed in her day-to-day life.
“That boyfriend still busy? Sheesh, Usagi, really… It’s been seven years. Reika keeps asking that I dig to find out if you two have any… plans, you know?” Usagi rolled her eyes at his words, but she knew he was hinting at—Marriage. Family. Things couples usually decide on after so many years together. Even her mom was not this insistent.
“I know, Toki, I’ll get on him about it later.” A familiar headache bloomed on her forehead when it came to his rather provocative statements. Although after so long, she was beginning to think he had a point.
“...Usagi.” His hand fell to her shoulder. “I’m serious. You can’t keep on like this for much longer… We all see the online drama. All those inflammatory articles, everything.”
“It’s… fine, I expected it. I know it happens in these situations.” She was not the only one, of course; many like her had tried and failed in their relationships with pop idols. “I’m managing it fine. The majority of his fans aren’t like that to me. In person, at least.”
“That’s not any better, and you know it.”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“Usa. You haven’t been yourself for a long time in this… situation.” Motoki roughly sat her down on a barstool. “The rumors, the nonsense… It spreads so quickly, and we all know you hear it more than you let on. He isn’t doing you any favors ignoring them in interviews either, it's—”
“Stop!” Usagi then yelled, pushing his hands off and accidentally grabbing the attention of other patrons. “I know! I do… I just… can’t discuss it right now, please.”
She turned in the seat to face the bar, fixing her composure, jumping to maintain a more unruffled display. After all, anything could end up online as a reason to slander her further.
“...Okay, okay, Usagi. I’ll lay off for now. Though…” He watched her turn to look at him with vague annoyance, and he held up his hands. “Unrelated! I have a favor to ask, actually.”
Her expression softened. “What is it? Anything you need, Toki.”
“Can I ask you to take flowers and incense to Mamoru and clean the monument? I planned to go later, but Mayu’s teachers are having parent-teacher conferences. I always do the maintenance every month at a certain time, you know, because he was a stickler for time and—”
“Toki. You’re rambling.” His paused look mid-explanation made her laugh.
“Oh, right, sorry, yes… But can you please do this for me today?”
“Sure thing, Motoki. Please, don’t worry about it. I can go and fix it up. Not like I do anything now anyways… Besides, it’s nice to see his face sometimes.”
“You do things! You visit me during the day now without school interference. I like seeing you around during opening and before the middle schoolers roam!” They laughed. “Not to mention you’re Mayu’s favorite babysitter.”
“Of course, I love watching her! She’s so full of energy at that age… Though you'd best hope Crown becomes her teenage hotspot so you can spy on her.” He looked horrified. “Still weirded out that she’s growing so fast?”
“Terrified. Reika says she grew quickly, but seeing it in our kid is… a whole other ballpark.” His eyes met Usagi's rather forlorn expression. “But, hey… maybe, if there’s a different reaction, should.. anything happen again, you’ll learn the terrors too.”
“Yeah, right, as if he’s ever even home long enough…” The shorter blonde groaned as she leaned back in the seat, gripping the edge of the bar. “Maybe just not in this lifetime, I guess.”
“…No sense in giving up hope.” Especially when she refused to admit to herself the situation she found herself stuck in.
“True. Well, I shouldn’t stay here for too long, the sun's getting lower these days, so I'd better hurry before it gets too dark.” Her feet hit the floor of the arcade before she whirled in her spot to leave. “Tell Mayu to be good!”
“I will. Get home safe, Usagi!” He called as she stepped through the open door of the arcade.
Her hands scrubbed delicately on the stone, careful in the inscription of his name. Staring, Usagi reached out to trace the symbols that spelled out “Chiba Mamoru”, that familiar tug in her heart when she felt the urge to cry.
Of course, they were not each other’s biggest fans most days, but they were often rather friendly too. He poked fun at her hair, made fun of her grades back in their school days, (lack) of lady-like grace, and a whole host of other things. She called him a loser, a fashion disaster, and found him to be stupidly pretentious, thinking he was so much smarter than everyone else.
Yet, she felt inexplicably drawn to him each time.
Despite her words, she found him attractive and headstrong, and he survived to the best of his ability. Making a life and not letting the grief of his losses hold him down. Mamoru was driven and focused on what he wanted to bring into the world, and she could not help but admire his dedication.
And this was what life gave him in return. Every time she would pass this cemetery, the ache in her heart never settled. Motoki often told her, perhaps to tease his friend, about Mamoru’s dreams of a full life despite how much of a grump he was at the time. Now, he reminisces about how unfair life can be and is often rather excessive in his care for his family.
That’s how she knows he was not just dealing with his daughter’s school event, but also going there early to check everything. To make sure his daughter will be safe before, during, and after, all because he refuses to risk losing another person so close to him.
After all, what happened to Mamoru was no simple ‘accident’.
It had been four years since the day she had held Mamoru’s hand in that sterile, smoke-tinged hospital room, feeling his fingers grow colder with every shallow breath until there was nothing left but silence. The memory struck her like a sudden chill, gripping her chest and making her stomach twist, as if she could still hear the shuddering of the heart monitor and see the grime on her palms from where she had clung so tightly to his hand. Sometimes, she would catch herself searching for that warmth, only to be greeted by numbness and ache. It haunted her in a way she never had words for, lingering in the tremor of her hands or the sting building behind her eyes whenever she thought of him. For Motoki, it had shattered a massive part of him, as he was one of, if not the only, people Mamoru talked to often and who knew the most about him. His longest friend, now a name on a stone and an image in the few photographs he convinced him to take.
Then, news broke about what had occurred once the investigation was concluded, months after the initial disturbance. Someone lit a fire in a supply closet in the pediatrics ward while Mamoru was making his rounds. With two other doctors, he aided the patients to an exit, running back in when not all were accounted for, and pulling them from the flames despite himself. In the process, he received the harshest outcome, inhaling too much smoke paired with burns and previously mounting exhaustion after so many hours, as he had overworked himself at the time.
The guilty party was caught on the cameras, and to Usagi’s shock, she was a familiar face she had long tried to ignore. Charged with arson, premeditation, and first-degree murder, among the minor charges of damages to the property, patients, and surviving staff, the woman was given a hefty prison sentence. Though some days, Usagi and Motoki agreed (over drinks) that she should have gotten worse.
The running line of manga she had supposedly been the author behind was procedurally torched and removed from shelves, as fans did not want to provide money to someone who killed such a brilliant doctor for personal gain. Another doctor was listed as well, a rather grouchy man who had the opposite of Mamoru’s reputation, but they could not prove his involvement, so he was only stripped of his medical license on the woman’s word that he had given her access to the closet and supplies.
However, that had ended up being the least of Usagi’s actual concerns at the time.
What did not help was when she had (ungracefully) been crying her eyes out with Motoki as they refused to leave the hospital room (or let the workers do their job), some fans of Seiya were among the few whose family members were hospitalized survivors of the fire. That caused a stir when she was secretly photographed, and news spread among fan groups about their favorite idol’s girlfriend crying over another man. By then, fights over fan rumors and online posts were a little too common in her relationship. Her normal routine would have been to take herself to a guest room in their suite to entirely avoid him for another blowout, but that night… Well, that kinder side stopped after the next ten or so articles.
And the cycle would repeat at her work while she was still employed, at the cafe she would frequent, at the park when she was alone—“A man was spotted in the distance behind her, so she must be seeing him separately, and we caught the tail end!”
It was nonstop nonsense, and she was tired of maintaining a facade of aloofness and politeness, distant from everyone except her partner in public.
Even now, with the not-so-subtle flashes behind her, she was aware this would become an issue later, but she would rather focus on finishing the stone maintenance. Lighting the incense, she placed it carefully before lifting her bag of cleaning supplies with her as she stood up.
“Sorry, Idiot Mamoru. I couldn’t find any soft purple or white flowers, but I did pick up some pink and yellow roses… I know how bad your fashion sense was… Shame I can only do so much from here, and you can’t complain to me about it.” She snickered to herself, imagining his horror, as she arranged the blooms carefully. Once completed, she sat back, staring at the image on the stone.“...You look so pretty.”
She tilted her head back, shutting her eyes as she let her mind wander.
In moments like these, she often thought back to when the incident occurred and after. Especially the funeral when she had spoken to Motoki in private, and he had said something particularly… dumbfounding. Yet, she entirely omitted Motoki’s comment when relaying the events of the funeral to Seiya, keeping it to herself and only revisiting it in her growing loneliness. The more she pondered, the more she agreed with Motoki’s assessment, but she would never fully admit it.
Over the years, Usagi had found herself visiting Motoki more often to reminisce and discuss memories and moments, meeting his family on Mamoru’s birthday. Those specific days would be at their home before they visited the cemetery, decorating and cleaning the site.
Usagi never brought it up at home because… well, she would chance the results of the ‘Hm…’ of distraction, the ‘Mm’ of disinterest, or conversations that could veer into support or chaos. Depends on how stressed Yaten and Taiki made him that day, at least when they’re not dragging him out of the home for meetings or whatever else they say they need him for. She has attempted fighting them on it when she and her boyfriend had plans, but ‘idol work supersedes silly dates’.
Needless to say, they had gone from people she considered friends to nuisances impeding on her life, so she actively steered clear of them and their presence in her home. They seemed just as eager to do the same.
Part of that tension tends to surface when she expresses plans Seiya cannot make, because everything is about reputation. She has to be careful of the who, the where, and herself. So many things to consider about her hair, her clothes, her expressions, everything that’s her has to be… toned. Structured. Mature. Ready for the camera at all possible times.
Fans are vultures, especially when it comes to a famous pop idol and their non-famous significant other. After so many years, a significant strain had been placed on her relationship, and they had gotten into a constant back-and-forth of pulling away before pulling each other in, as if this cycle was now the only proof they still cared. She often wondered why she stayed—why she chose to keep living in these patterns, in a life shaped by other people's expectations and her own uncertainty. The fear of the unknown clawed at her even as she daydreamed of escape. Was it habit or hope that kept her rooted here, despite the loneliness and constant scrutiny? What did it mean, after all these years, if she finally broke away—would she be free, or would she just find herself even more alone? Usagi's mind circled these questions as often as the rumors circled online. Sometimes the thought of ending it paralyzed her more than the misery of staying. After too long, one of them would notice the gap growing too large and try to make an effort to mend it, but even those beginnings at rebuilding their shaky bridge now seemed to drift apart, just like they did.
They just refused to acknowledge it.
It was why she left the apartment, to Crown, to Makoto’s bakery, Rei’s Shrine, and any places her friends would meet her during their own busy schedules. Though she felt pathetic, it gave her some hope that things were not all bleak.
Opening her eyes, she saw that the sun had fallen further beyond the horizon. Usagi had been out of the house all day and was now faced with the tedious task of walking back to the large, lonely apartment, and needed to decide what she wanted for dinner. Dragging a sigh from her lungs, she lowered her head, rubbing the back of her neck of the ache and stretching in place. With a bow of respect to her long-lost friend, her footsteps guided her away from the stone and towards the loud city.
Returning home, she immediately spotted her boyfriend’s shoes in their usual spot, meaning he had returned early. The ‘why’ had been something she long dropped on finding out when his schedule had sudden changes.
“You’re finally home.” She looked up, sharp cerulean eyes gazing at her from the kitchen doorway.
“Yeah, Toki asked a favor of me, and I stayed longer than planned.” The bag of cleaning supplies hit the table by their genkan hard, her brows pulling together as she faced him. Here we go again.
“I saw.” Seiya held up a printed photo, Usagi kneeling with her silent tears as she tended to the stone in the cemetery. “Many did, in another ‘Mid-light’ gossip forum online.”
“Really? Again?” Her eyes rolled, exasperated, as she could not do much of anything without the paparazzi following her around. Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, she moved past him, further into the apartment living room. “It’s just me cleaning a grave, I don’t see how that’s any real problem.”
“But that’s not just it, is it? It’s also whose it belonged to.” He dropped the other few pictures on their coffee table: the stone, the name, a face. Usagi had to turn her head, never ever able to look at his face since he died. “I find that the most concerning.”
“Wh—Concerning?! The dead man?!” She whipped her head back to look at him, shifting from the low tone of weariness to indignation, her time spent being a friend under scrutiny. “It’s a monument of respect I was asked to clean up that Toki paid for alone! One for his long-time friend who had no other family to bury him otherwise! It’s just an odd instance where Motoki couldn’t get to it himself! Are you really going to pick another fight over this?!”
“Come on, Usagi, you know that’s not the issue! This also happened before he died—”
“That was your fans jumping to conclusions! Like always! Remember a year ago?! When they did the exact same thing between Motoki and me?! The man I see like an older brother?! Crown had to shut down for a week!”
“I had no hand in that!”
“No, but the silent treatment you gave me after the gossip got around sure fueled the flames!”
Another fight, over a topic they have had to cover constantly. Seiya was well aware of the loneliness he often subjected his girlfriend to; it was hard not to think about it when he was constantly checking the time, trying to get any break he could. Yet, it had been seven years, and even he knew they were both drained.
“You’re being so unfair right now! Just because he meant nothing to you doesn’t mean he is less deserving of respect after death!”
“Didn’t you use to complain about him?! Why is it suddenly an issue that I don’t care?!”
“I said it, but I still saw him as a good friend! Friends tease each other! At least he didn’t hang all over or sit provocatively over me for camera shots!”
“Those were a stage shoot, I shouldn’t have to keep repeating that!”
“Like I shouldn’t have had to keep clarifying coworkers or random men I pass on the street because your die-hards stalk my every move for some stupid affair?!”
For at least the last four years, this was their norm. The odd occurrence they had time together would be his spur-of-the-moment vacations, planned hastily and giving her insanely late notice. Fortunately, Usagi was exceptional at her role, so her boss let it slide—aside from also being a fan of her boyfriend.
Yet, it never negated the real problems plaguing their relationship. The constant lack of security and trust had eroded after all the years of seismic battles. Now, it was cracked, fracturing, and falling apart around them.
When they met, Minako had convinced Usagi to attend a networking event—a lie, it was an informal party she was crashing—where up-and-coming musicians, pop idols, managers, and the entire entertainment industry would be present. When they had crossed paths, he was eager to jump on the same stupid name (though now Usagi had a rather fondness for it), Idiot Mamoru gave her, although their interactions fell more to flirty once he dropped the pretentious pop idol persona.
After that night, they were in frequent contact over the phone, often talking late into the night, driving Minako batty, but she was glad her friend had found someone she might end up spending her life with. After a few short months, they had made their relationship official and moved in together shortly thereafter. Their first three years would be chaotic but overall enjoyable.
Balance existed; they would have regular dates and scheduled vacations away from his work. She liked spending time with the other Lights in the group. Fans were more encouraging than harmful, and she was ambushed with ‘you’re both so cute’ or ‘you two are gorgeous together!’ It was only around year four that things took a turn for the worse, the small gap growing into the modern-day chasm.
By then, there was that expectation, the questions from family and friends about their future, questions they would have asked each other. That was the thing, though: They had not actually had those kinds of conversations. They had no timeline because everything revolved around Seiya’s schedule, his growing career, and the fame the Three Lights had achieved. On those swift vacations, they only enjoyed the afforded luxuries and relaxed, but nothing they talked about ever broached the serious subjects of marriage or kids, anything like that. Usagi sometimes caught herself almost asking, "Where are we going? Will we ever have something more beyond this waiting?” But the words always died on her tongue, replaced by careful silence. Though she pretended not to need the answers, she still quietly wished he would ask her first, or that he would come home one day with hope in his eyes and a question she was too afraid to say aloud.
There was a brief pregnancy scare a couple of years ago, but there was barely even time for anything like that now. It’s always “just another performance,” “Yaten and Taiki wanna brainstorm more songs for the next album,” or some other thing to advance the group’s career. Never a long break to spend time with her or even sit and talk. No time to discuss their future.
It had gotten exhausting.
“What was that?” He looked at her with bewilderment and hurt. She had finally said it.
“It… This has gotten exhausting, Seiya. We don’t want to understand each other or… or even be around each other!”
“I still want to be around you, I’m just—”
“‘Busy?’ Yeah, I can tell! You hardly ever decline my requests without that word to back it up!”
“That’s not fair—”
“It never is from either end! And we never talk anymore, so how… how are we supposed to function together when you function more with your group while I’m left here all day—”
“You choose to be here when you very well could go out more!”
“I can’t! I can’t leave the apartment anymore because I’ll always end up ruining your reputation by association! Remember saying that to me two years ago?! Look at what you’re doing now!”
“I’m only doing all this so that you can be happy!”
“WELL, I’M NOT HAPPY! I…!” Usagi stopped, catching her breath, and meeting his eyes directly before she continued. “I haven’t been for… a long time. We haven’t…”
It had gone silent as they stared at one another across the wide living room. Neither of them moved to speak, to approach the other. Nothing. It was simply them, and the truth finally lay bare: their seven years of waste and the utter breakdown of their relationship.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll head to bed.” Breaking away at the signs of inexplicable tension was her best skill. Coward.
“Alright.” He would have fought her, but after the bomb dropped in space, it did not feel worth it, so he let her go.
The steps up to their shared room were quiet as Usagi walked to the door, opened and shut it, and changed into her pajamas before climbing into bed. She did not even bother to undo her hair buns, too tired and overall, the pain and drama. All that had been her life up until now.
“...I wish everything was different.”
When her eyes closed, she welcomed sleep with open arms, but the dream world did not catch her. It threw her into a different kind of suffering.