Title: Remembrance

Author: Lisa

Chapter: Prologue

Rating: PG

Author's Notes:

Hi minna! It's been awhile, but I'm back with my latest project, a multi-part sequel to "Innocence." I've been toying with the idea of a sequel for some years now, but never got around to writing one. It shouldn't be longer than 3-4 chapters (if that), which I'm hoping to complete in the next few weeks. Hope you enjoy this short chapter, and please review at the end!

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and the others don't belong to me, but this story does.

"Silly Mamoru, always!"

Always, she had said. Always. I had clung to that word, that unconditional promise that I would not be forced to remain alone in this harsh, unforgiving universe for the rest of my days, like a lifeline for the remainder of my stay in the hospital.

Weeks passed, then months, and gradually my body erased all physical traces of the accident that had crushed my innocence. Where my body healed, however, my mind could not. As months drifted into years, I would lie wide awake night after night on the hard bunk bed in the orphanage, listening to the soft snores of my other ill-fated companions, my morbid fantasies conjuring up and replaying the crash again and again like a broken record forever stuck upon a heartbreaking tune. The result was always the same; I'd be left without even the memory of my own name.

Yet as my subconscious teetered on the edge of that dark pit of agony, her voice would break free from the black clouds above, throwing me that desperately-needed rope to pull me over from my personal cliff of despair.

Usagi. Always.

A decade later, and her open declaration still rang loud and clear in my dreams. It was pathetic, perhaps, but could a starving man really be faulted for rosy memories of the first feast to break his fast? Ten long years of clinging onto a memory of a girl I'd likely never encounter again. Perhaps she had moved away from these busy streets of Tokyo, moved on without any further thought of the broken boy drowning in the hospital sheets all those years past. Perhaps…

I sighed, shading my eyes from the rays of sunlight that always managed to dance past my fully closed blinds. I threw the blankets from my body and let the cold air immediately grip me, effectively chasing away the fog of night and traces of a certain blond-haired angel. I mechanically began my daily morning routine—which mostly consisted of ensuring that my coffeemaker dutifully brewed the dark liquid without which I'd likely cease to function—and soon found myself standing on my balcony, peering down at the masses of people already scrambling about in preparation for the upcoming festivities. Now armed with a cup of steaming coffee, I examined the crowds with disinterested eyes. It was as if everyone was moving, everyone had a purpose, a destination...except me, the boy who masqueraded as a man forever searching for his destiny.

Catching the rather ominous turn of my thoughts, I decided that a trip to see my best (who was I kidding, and only) friend was in order. Motoki's never-ending optimism always amazed me, and I thanked whichever lucky star I still had watching over me that I had not scared him away like many others who had the misfortune of crossing paths with me.

Motoki slid a steaming cup of coffee toward me with a knowing glance.

"Dreams again last night?" he asked sympathetically. That was Motoki, always straight to the point. I took comfort in his simplicity; Motoki was never one to keep you guessing as to what he was thinking.

"Why else would I be like this?" I grumbled into my cup and took a long sip, allowing the dark liquid to soothe my frazzled nerves.

"Did you dream of her?"

I had shared the details of my past with Motoki years ago, although it had taken weeks for me finish sharing the entire story. A hefty portion of my sorrowful tale had centered on Usagi. He tried to be understanding, to be sure, yet somehow I don't think he comprehended exactly how much she meant to me. 'When you've suffered a deeply traumatic event, you're bound to cling onto that one good thing that makes the rest a little more bearable,' he had said. 'It's human nature.' I had bit back the urge to snap at him, as if Usagi could be reduced to some line discussing the human mind in a psychology textbook. No, she had been—was still—more to me than that. She had seen me, the real me, and accepted my imperfections with open arms and a smile. She had been young, to be sure, but I had foolishly judged her by her age once and wasn't about to make that mistake again.

"Are you surprised?"

Luckily Motoki didn't seem annoyed with my evasive method of answering.

"Oh Mamoru. I bet it's this time of year that has you down. Don't worry, a few more days and things will be back to normal. No more of this sappy, 'everyone is so happy and thankful' stuff."

I smiled ruefully, knowing that Motoki himself had plenty to be happy and thankful for. His girlfriend Reika, for example, who rivaled Motoki in her pleasantness.

"Hai, you're right," I played along, not wanting to let on to Motoki that his efforts to cheer me up were proving unsuccessful.

"Tell you what, Mamoru. Why don't you come with me and Reika to my parents' place for New Year's dinner? They've been asking about you, and you know you're always welcome. And afterward, I'm sure there are a few parties we could crash."

I cringed. Motoki had a great family—the kind of family I imagined I once had—and I'd be lying if I said his mother wasn't an excellent cook. Yet every time I went, I couldn't help feeling like an imposter, as if I were forcing myself into someone else's happily ever after. How did the old adage go, 'misery loves company?' I at least had the decency to not drag anyone else down with me, especially during the holidays.

"Arigato Motoki, but I have plans…" That sounded pathetic even to my ears.

"Brooding in front of your television doesn't count," he joked. Motoki knew me too well.

"I'll think about it, then," I replied grudgingly, annoyed that I was apparently that transparent, then tossed the remainder of the cooling coffee into my mouth and counted out the change for the drink. "I better get going. I have some work I need to finish." If lying in my bed staring blankly at the ceiling counted as work, that is.

"But you're on break, Mamoru." Of course, leave it to Motoki to state the obvious. I really needed to meet someone who wasn't privy to my every movement.

"Ja." I waved goodbye and pretended not to hear Motoki's disappointed sigh. He really was everything a man could want in a best friend, and I fervently hoped that he wouldn't wake up one day and regret befriending a lost cause.

Now on my third cup of coffee for the day (my goal of cutting my caffeine consumption could wait until the new year, I resolved), I plopped down on my couch with a groan. Classes wouldn't start again for another week, which meant another week where I was at a loss in finding enough items to occupy my waking hours. I had already gotten ahead on readings for my classes next semester, re-read favorite works that had started to collect dust on my bookshelves, re-ordered my furniture to maximize space efficiency, and even cleaned around the apartment until the very last dust bunny had fallen to my meticulous, boredom-driven cleanliness. Having exhausted my daily visit to see Motoki—he may be my best friend, but I doubt event the saintly Motoki could handle multiple doses of Mamoru in one day—I found myself terribly restless. Before long, I knew from ample experience, the dark thoughts would begin demanding entrance into my consciousness once more. I really hated the holidays.

Imagine my surprise when my doorbell suddenly pierced through the deafening silence of my room. Motoki was still in the middle of his shift, so I knew it couldn't be him barring some unknown catastrophe. No one else knew my address as far as I was aware. The second ring further piqued my interest, and I stood up from my couch and placed the half-empty mug of coffee on the table nearby.

A third ring followed louder and longer than the first two, and with it came a voice that stopped me dead in my tracks about two feet from my closed door.

"Minako-chan, open up! It's me!" The voice was high-pitched and reminded me of those holiday bells that had always caused me such a headache. Indeed my head was swimming, but certainly not from annoyance…

The voice was deeper, of course. Ten years would do that to a person. I found myself almost unable to breathe as images of a certain tiny blond-haired girl presented themselves like a slideshow in my brain. Memories of her smile, her touch, her words…everything came back in a rush, and it was only sheer panic that kept me from breaking down my own door right there and then.

Could it be…?

I opened the door, and as blue met blue in a startling clash of gazes, all doubts as to her identity fled my mind. My angel had finally re-appeared after all these wretched years, and I found myself all but trembling in her presence.

I opened my mouth, but my vocal chords had conveniently decided to stop working.

"You're not Minako…" Her face flushed, and she squinted at the half-crumbled piece of paper in her hand. My eyes hungrily followed hers and barely made out the scratches on the paper, which seemed to form an address. "Oops, I'm supposed to be on the twelfth floor, not tenth." Her cheeks were the most delightful shade of pink, and I memorized her perfectly round face, her eyes, her rosebud mouth… The years had been incredibly kind to her.

"Gomen, I got the wrong floor. Didn't mean to bother you!"

My mind snapped out of its Usagi-induced haze when I realized that she was leaving me.

"Wait, Usagi…" I hoped that didn't sound too desperate, but that this point I was fairly certain I'd fall to my knees and beg her to stay if that would change anything.

She froze, her back to me as I again found it impossible to breathe. I needed to see her face again, needed to see whether…did she not…?

She turned around, and I wanted to cry out as soon as I saw the confusion and unmistakable dash of fear in her eyes. She really didn't…

"I'm sorry, but…how do you know my name?"

She really didn't remember me.

Well, there you have it! I didn't mean for the beginning to be that angsty, but poor Mamo really just brings that out… Anyway, next chapter should be out around New Year's. I promise there will be some holiday fluff to come! :) As always, please leave me a quick review at the end. I'd love to hear from you!

This story was written and posted December 2014.