*She makes his coffee - she makes his bed *She does the laundry - she keeps him fed *When she was 21 she wore her mother's lace *She said "forever", with a smile upon her face *She does the car pool - she PTAs *Doctors and dentists - she drives all day *When she was 29 she delivered number 3 *And every Christmas card showed a perfect family The alarm buzzed next to Makoto's head. Her hand snaked out from under the warm, soft comforter to hush the sharp sound. Six in the morning, time for her day to start. She yawned and stretched, enjoying her last moments before her busy day. Her husband of sixteen years stirred beside her. Ichiro and Makoto had met when Makoto was twenty. Ichiro had been forty. Her friends had been surprised at the engagement, but Makoto fell in love with him and that was all that mattered. Usagi had been married for a year when Makoto and Ichiro married. Four years later she gave birth to their son, Kobe. Junsui came along two years after that and Yui had been born three years after that. They had the perfect life. Three children, a boy and two girls, Makoto was the stay-at-home-Mom and Ichiro made the money and took care of them. And this is how things had been since. Six in the morning wake up for her and Ichiro. Makoto swung her feet out of the bed and slid on her robe and slippers. While Ichiro was getting out of bed Makoto spent her five minutes in the bathroom. Makoto always peed, washed her face and then brushed her teeth. She showered the night before, always the night before. She would pass her husband on his way into the bathroom and on her way to the closet. Five more minutes and she was dressed, her hair pulled back in the customary pony-tail. At six-fifteen she knocked on Kobe's door, opening it up as she knocked. The twelve-year-old liked to sleep, just like Usagi did. Makoto always giggled to herself when she thought of this. She opened the curtains in her son's room, calling to him to wake up and get ready for classes. He would groan, ask for a few more minutes, then reluctantly get up. At six-twenty-five Makoto would enter her ten-year-old daughter's room, opening up her curtains and telling her get up and get ready for school. The children attended classes at the palace with Minako's daughter Ai and Usagi's children, Chibi Usa and Mamoru. The six children got along wonderfully. It was just that they had to get up by six-thirty in order to leave the house by seven-thirty and ben at the palace by eight. Makoto ran a tight schedule and made sure her children were always on time. And they were. Six-thirty and Yui was up and fussing around. Yui was seven, and was very cranky when being woken up. Yui was a tiny girl, petite. Makoto was reminded of her mother when she looked at her youngest. Makoto had breakfast on the table by seven. Ichiro, dressed in his business suit, would be first at the table. Makoto would get Yui set up with her place setting at the table. The smallest made the most mess. She was still young enough that Ichiro tolerated her and her massive food intake. Junsui was third. She loved to eat. The child ate with relish, just like Usagi had. Makoto had thought this was good, she was a growing girl. Ichiro thought it was gluttonous and disgusting. Makoto did not approve of his treatment of the girl, but she rarely stepped in. The arguments they had in private were heated and scared the Senshi. Ichiro had a temper. He had never hit her or the children, but you didn't have to be physical to be effective. Junsui now ate very little, she would have her rice and some broth. Makoto usually packed her a secret large lunch, and dinner she usually had some meat, the rice and broth. Makoto felt sorry for the girl, she knew how she felt. Makoto loved to eat, too, and had had a healthy appetite until Ichiro said the same things to her in their first year of marriage. She then ate how he felt she should. Small portions. Kobe would be last. He would heap his plates and bowls full of food. When Makoto had mentioned her son's eating habits to Ichiro he had laughed, saying he was a growing boy and needed the extra calories. Makoto had fumed for weeks after that discussion. That was when she began packing Junsui's lunch full of goodies and making Kobe healthy meals. After breakfast, Ichiro would kiss her on the cheek and leave the house. Kobe, Junsui, and Yui would grab their bento boxes, kiss Makoto on the cheek and head out to the palace. Makoto would then begin her day. She always cleaned up after breakfast, then started laundry and began cleaning all the rooms. The house and laundry would be done by three in the afternoon, and she would then begin preparing dinner. Kobe, Junsui, and Yui would come home at four and be ravenous. She would fix them something small and send them to their rooms to work on their lessons for an hour. At five she would begin the evening bath schedule. Yui was first, young enough that Makoto still would sit in the bathroom with her. Junsui was second and Kobe would be forced into the tub last. At six, Ichiro would come home, have a drink and work on the computer for the half hour it took Makoto to finish setting dinner up. Dinner would be done by seven. Seven-thirty, Makoto was done cleaning up dinner and packing lunches. She would then take half an hour to read, relax and just enjoy the time with her family. The children were usually watching a TV show, Ichiro was on the computer, and she would read. At eight it was time for the kids to head to bed, and Ichiro would retire as well. From eight to nine, Makoto soaked in her bathtub. Her hour a day where it was all for her. She reflected on what she had accomplished during the day and sigh at the fact she would get up in 8 or so hours and do it all again. That was what her days were like. Everyday since the kids had started school. Makoto was bored, actually. She was tired of just cooking and cleaning. She wanted to work. She hd worked for a while between high school and getting married. She enjoyed it. She had wanted to be a chef. Ichiro had laughed at her when she mentioned working. He had said she didn't need to. He would take care of them and their family. When she tried to push the matter, to tell him she knew she didn't *need* to work, she just *wanted* to work, his temper flared and she never mentioned it again. *Everything runs right on time *Years of practice and design *Spit and polish till it shines *He thinks he'll keep her *Everything is so benign *Safest place you'll ever find *God forbid you'd change your mind *He thinks he'll keep her Now, sixteen years later, she was a wiser woman. She knew her husband did not love her. This, when she first learned of it, had crushed her. She thought she had married for love and forever. No. She had been married to simply be married. Ichiro had not found a 'proper' wife, according to him. Makoto had seemed like the closest he would ever find, and he was getting on in age. He wanted to have children. He professed love for her until after Junsui was born. She bitterly reflected on this. It must have annoyed him to no end to tell her he loved her for nine years. She had found this out one night when Yui was two. They had ceased making love, he never touched her, and he had stopped telling her he loved her. They were fighting about their sex life and he confessed his deed, his love for her was faked. He had just wanted a marriage, obedient wife, and children. He now had that. He left her in their room, sobbing. For the last four years, Makoto had been thinking on the situation. She had also been squirreling away money. In four years she had saved over two million yen. She knew she had enough to get away, that Usagi would happily allow her to live in the palace. Haruka and Michiru had, Minako currently did... She could also start her own business with the money. Makoto got out of the tub and rinsed off. She put on her nightgown and robe and entered the bedroom. Ichiro was already in bed, reading a novel and ignoring her completely. Makoto knew it was now or never. She needed to stop pretending she had the perfect life. She was bored, restless, in an unloving marriage, with a man who belittled her, her dreams, and her children. "Ichiro?" Her voice sounded so small to her. What had happened to her nerve? Her resolve? In the past decade and a half could he have smashed it beyond repair? "Speak up, Makoto. In this house we speak, not mumble." He didn't even bother to look at her when speaking *to* her. Anger boiled in her belly, rising to her heart and out her mouth. "I want to go to work. I want something to do with my days." "Makoto," he sighed, putting his book in his lap, "we have discussed this. You do not need to work. You have things to do during the day. You take care of me, the children and our home. That is your job." Makoto sighed, chewing her lip slightly. "It's not enough, Ichiro. Yui is seven now. Kobe is twelve. The children don't need me anymore. Well, they need me, but they can do many things for themselves now. I spend the day, the week, the *year* in this house. I cook, clean and run the kids around. I want --" He cut her off, "*You* want? Since when did this become all about you, Makoto? This house has five people living in it. Our children comes first to you, got that? Then I come second. You, Makoto, are the last one you should worry about. You have enough to do. Now, it's getting late. Go to bed." He turned out his light and rolled over. That was it. Just like that. She was dismissed. Like *she* was the seven year old. This man she had shared a bed, children and a life with was... she hated him! She had no love left for this man. This was not fair to the children, or to herself. She checked her night drawer where she hid the money. It was still there. Tomorrow. *She packs his suitcase - she sits and waits *With no expression upon her face *When she was 36 she met him at their door *She said I'm sorry I don't love you anymore She kissed Ichiro good bye, smiling at him, and gently closing the door. Her three children entered the kitchen, grabbing their bento boxes and heading for the door themselves. Makoto stopped Junsui and asked for her to send Endymion-sama back here, she needed to speak with him immediately. Junsui nodded solemnly and left for school. Twenty minutes later her teenage crush knocked on her door. She let the king in her home, close to tears. She offered him food and drink, which he politely turned down. It was just after breakfast. She felt silly. "Endymion-sama, would it be inappropriate for me to confide in you?" Her eyes were lowered, shamed. "Makoto-san... what is it? What is bothering you so?" "I would like to move out of here, with my children, and into the palace. Ichiro and I... He is not a good man, Endymion-sama. He is bad for me and worse for the children. I do not love him and he does not love me. May I come home to the palace?" She finally looked up at the man she had known for more than half her life. He was smiling at her. "Of course, Makoto. We'll help you all we can. Where do you want to start?" --- That night, when six o'clock rolled around, Makoto was sitting in the hall of the home she had been a prisoner in for the last sixteen years. She sat on a large suitcase, her suitcase, the last suitcase that needed to leave the home. Her items, and the children's, were already gone. Only she, the suitcase and Endymion remained in the house. He was discreetly off in the living room, protection, just in case Ichiro took it to his mind to finally use force on her. The door opened, soft light spilled in from the street, lighting Ichiro's path to her. There were no smells coming from the kitchen, no sound of children moving about, just cool silence. He flipped on the soft overhead hall light and put his coat up. "Makoto? What are you doing?" She stood up, grasping the handle to her suitcase, and sighed. "I am leaving, Ichiro. The children are already gone. I will be filing for divorce at the first of the week. I'm sorry, but I cannot live with someone I do not love and who does not love me. I cannot live for you and the children first, I must live for me. Forgive me, Ichiro. Sixteen years... Not a waste, since we have three wonderful children. But, there is no love in this house from you, and that was important. Since it is not there, never was there, and never can be there, I choose to leave." "Makoto..." The way he said her name sent chills up her spine. He had a cruel smile on his lips and a coldness in his voice that made her hair stand on ends. "You can't leave. We're a family. The perfect family. Stay-at-home-Mom, work-a-day-joe, and three happy kids. You aren't going *anywhere*." He got closer to her, seeing the fear in her eyes. "I am, Ichiro. You can't stop me." "I suppose we'll have to see about that. You know, I never understood why my father felt it necessary to use the back of his hand to keep my mother and I in line, but now I think I finally see." Years later, Ichiro would have himself convinced that he must have slipped on something irresponsibly left on the floor, but what really happened was this. He swung the back of his hand toward Makoto's chin, but the tomboy-turned-housewife had been in too many fights to be caught unawares. She leaned back out of his way and instinctively popped him on the chin with a right jab. Her glass-jawed husband crumpled to the floor. He was just beginning to push himself up, his eyes filled with rage, when Endymion chose that moment to step out from the kitchen. "I think we should get going, Makoto-san. The children are waiting dinner for you." Ichiro, being the coward he was, stood slowly, smiled at the monarch and backed away slightly. "We should talk soon, Makoto. Settle this." On her way out the door, her suitcase in hand, Makoto nodded. "In court, Ichiro. In court." *Everything runs right on time *Years of practice and design *Spit and polish till it shines *He thinks he'll keep her *Everything is so benign *Safest place you'll ever find *At least until you change your mind *He thinks he'll keep her Makoto was awarded the divorce. She gained custody of the three children. She was thirty-six, divorced, had three kids and a new life to begin. Makoto took her twenty million yen and invested in a kitchen. Commercial grade, with all the extras. She officially opened a catering business three months after the divorce. Makoto had found her niche. She did not need a man to make her complete. Standing in her kitchen, looking around at the bustling people and at her hard work, Kino Makoto found everything she had wanted. Children laughing. Successful business. Freedom to be herself. And now she had the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of her labor, her love. She was now a mature woman who had beaten her worst enemy. Not Ichiro. Herself. --- End Makoto's Story ---