And we’ve come to Chapter 13 of HaruMichi BatB! I hope you enjoy it, writing it was, dare I say it, a ball. (Masterpost link)

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This had been easy, once upon a time. Michiru had dressed effortlessly, descended into a crowd of hundreds, and found those nights on the whole boring. But tonight, it had taken great labor by her and Makoto and Usagi to find something she could wear, and she trembled to think of standing before one person. She couldn’t do this, she was too–

If you believe the worst of yourself, you’ll show the worst of yourself.

She took a deep breath. She would try, for Haruka. She had to try. Makoto had done brilliantly with the dress, ripping out seams and sewing it anew so the skirt wrapped closer to her body and did not get pulled by the movement of her tail. She’d padded the cap sleeves, to make Michiru’s shoulders less severe, and twined her hair around her head with streaks of gold thread. There was nothing to be done about the claws, or the tail.

She did not look pretty. Michiru stared into the mirror. She did, however, look better than she ever had in this form. Perhaps that might be enough for Haruka to not rescind her offer of a dance.

Mako took her hand and led her to the ballroom, just as she had countless times before.

“You went to her,” Michiru whispered, knowing Makoto would understand the question.

“She did not know what to wear.”

A lie by omission, Michiru was sure, but she forced a smile anyway. “She would look handsome in anything.”

Makoto gave a small huff of a chuckle. “Haruka would be as hard to convince on that as you would be.” She sighed. “She seems…” But then she shook her head, and for once Michiru could not read her.

The first long-traveling notes of music made her way to her. The slow rise of the violin wove fear into her bones.

“This is a mistake.”

“No, my lady, I will carry you in there if I have to.”

“The last ball I attended…” I publically humiliated a man and set the board for my own defeat.

“This is nothing like that,” Mako said. “Nothing you say will convince me to let you turn around.”

“Who is who’s lady, Makoto?”

Makoto stopped. “You are lucky, Michiru, that neither Usagi or I have the same cruel streak as you.” She again became more solid, and tightened her grip. “I believe we are long past our notions of servitude and nobility. We have cared for you long past what was ever expected of us.”

Michiru looked down. “I apologize. If… If I manage to break the curse, you are free to go.”

“I don’t want to abandon you, I just want to be your friend. Your equal.”

Michiru looked at her, wondering for the first time if that had been her wish all these years, from when she first came to the house as a young girl, rather than some attempt for social climbing. “Your friendship is not a gift I am worthy of,” she said carefully, “but I will accept it gladly.”

Makoto smiled, pulled her had and gave her a twirl. “You can still dance,” she said, less stern now.

“Well, I haven’t lost everything.”

She laughed. “Let’s get you to the ball, Michiru.”

The music grew louder, and then they came to the doors. Makoto raised Michiru’s clawed hand to her mouth and kissed it with ghost-feather lips. “Good luck, my lady. My friend.”

Michiru took a deep breath, and then pushed inside.

Makoto had brought her to the balcony entrance. She slid over to the banister. Haruka stood near the foot of the stairs, miming a dance she clearly did not know. Michiru’s breath caught. Haruka was dressed like the military men of Michiru’s day, though she lacked the severity and bravado. She was a painting, a dream, a sculpting of all a woman should be, handsome and good and brave. Michiru would be content to watch her forever.

She turned in her dance and noticed Michiru. She immediately dropped her arms.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Music tangled around them, pulling the tension tighter and tighter. Someone had to do something. Someone had to be brave.

Haruka had been brave enough. Michiru dared make a start for the staircase.

Haruka followed her with her eyes. Despite the feel of her body conforming to the shape of every stair, Michiru did not feel ugly or monstrous. She felt as though this were any other time she had entered a ball, except now she entered it for someone. She descended, the music rose, and it was all for Haruka. Nothing else mattered.

Haruka’s cheeks were pink when she reached the bottom. “You, um. You look nice.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Michiru said. She drew her arms around herself. “We don’t have to do this at all.”

“I wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

“And you have.”

Haruka bit her lip. “I also wanna dance with you, even though I don’t know how.”

Why? But she could not bare to ask. She wanted things Haruka could not give her, that it would be unfair to ask. But she wanted, deep as the sea.

So she curtsied as best she could, and offered her hand. Haruka looked alarmed. Fear rose in Michiru’s throat, of course Haruka would not take her hand, of course Haruka had not thought through dancing enough to realize it meant touching, how could she ever choose to touch such an abhorrent creature.

But then Haruka did a wobbly cursy of her own, looking up to Michiru in askance.

Michiru almost wanted to laugh. “If you’re leading, you bow rather than curtsy.”

“Oh…” Haruka righted herself. “Makoto said to follow you.”

“I see.” Michiru had never in her long life danced the lead, though she knew the steps well enough. “Then, yes, you curtsy, keep your feet steady… good.” With all the courage she could find in her small heart, Michiru bowed and accepted her hand.

“The follow sets the distance between dancers,” Michiru said. Haruka’s eyes met hers, and she stepped in very close.

“Where do I put my other hand?” Michiru could feel the tickle of her breath.

“Here.” She guided her to her shoulder. “And may I…?” She hovered her own hand above the small of Haruka’s back.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Michiru trembled. No woman had let her be so close since the change. Others had had the idea to woo her into submission, to tame the monster with love so as to make their escape, but none had been able to follow through on letting something so horrible touch them. But Haruka did not pull away. She did not flinch as Michiru’s claws pressed into the fine weave of her jacket. She did not take her smooth warm hand from Michiru’s rough and clammy counterpart.

She smiled instead. “You have to promise not to laugh at me, okay?”

Michiru would not dream of it. She was hardly superb herself, lacking feet. The music swelled, and she concentrated on swaying her body to approximate steps. Haruka stumbled along, working just as hard, it seemed, to not look at her feet.

“You are doing very well.”

“Really? I think I’m not.”

“You said you did not attend your balls, did you not? Having no experience, you must be a natural.”

Haruka snorted. “Now you’re being too nice.”

“No one could ever be too nice to you.”

The song slowed to its end, the echos of musicians long gone caught their breath before launching into another— something softer, more romantic.

“Are you sure this is alright?”

“It was my idea.”

“Yes, but…” Michiru loosened her grip. “I don’t think you thought through that you’d have to touch me.”

“I’m not that stupid,” Haruka said, a laugh on the edge of her voice. “And you’re not nearly as scary as you think you are, once the surprise wears off.”

“Scary or not, I’m… You ought to dance with a woman. A real one.”

“And I am.” Haruka pulled her a little closer. She moved her hand down to Michiru’s back, and Michiru felt her take the lead instinctively. Haruka knew no real steps, but they glided along to the rhythm as naturally as they might wade through the soft tides of the sea.

She was in Haruka’s hands now, fully, rawly. Truly, deeply. She could be lifted or she could be crushed. Michiru had nothing left to guard herself. Her shell was cracked, broken open, no words, no scales nor claws, could keep Haruka from finding her cold little heart and doing what she would with it.

Michiru looked into Haruka’s eyes, her beautiful, life-giving eyes, and tried to find the catch, tried to find the fear or the abhorrence that would prove this all a farce. She saw only kindness, and, if she dared let herself believe, affection.

Michiru wanted to believe. Michiru wanted to nurture whatever might have grown in Haruka’s heart into something bigger. Something that could make her smile every day.

With only a moment’s hesitation, she slid her body down, letting her dress drag against the floor until she was the height she’d been as a human, and then rested her head against Haruka’s chest. It did not matter that her hair would leave grease marks on the jacket, that Haruka could pull away at any moment and break her. For once in her life, Michiru wanted to be as small and vulnerable.

Haruka stopped dancing. Michiru braced herself for the harsh storm of rejection.

Instead, she felt Haruka wrap her arms tight around her. Michiru could not help but wince as her chin rested on the top of her head.

“It’s nice to hold you.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is, Michiru, and one day you’ll believe me.”

Michiru swallowed hard. “Are you imagining me as you saw in the mirror? Can you bear to touch me because you can invision me with the curse broken?”

Haruka pulled away just enough to look at her. “No, I see you.”

“I do not understand.”

“Michi, I think…” She withdrew one hand to scratch nervously at the back of her head. “I mean, I know. I know I like—“

Michiru wanted. She wanted so badly, and yet fear dragged sharp as her own claws through her belly. “No.”

“No?”

“You can’t, I’m not… Why would you?”

“Because you’re a person!” Haruka gripped her shoulders. “And I like being around you, and when you try to do nice things, you make me really happy.”

“I’ve done far more cruel things than kind ones.”

“And I forgive you.” She stepped close again. “I’m not saying… I can’t promise anything, not yet. I’m trying to be reasonable for once in my life.  But I like you.”

Michiru let herself be held. She let herself be small. “I’ve felt affection for you from the night you arrived. You’re…” She swallowed the fear. “You’re something extraordinary.”

“So are you.” Haruka traced small circles against Michiru’s sleeves. “It’s kind of amazing someone like you would like someone like me.”

“Haruka, I’m a monster.”

“Yeah but like, a classy one.”

Michiru laughed, and then tears stung at her eyes. She looked down to hide them. Haruka had not tried to deny what she was. Perhaps Haruka did see her. Perhaps things she wanted were not the most impossible ideas.

“Michi… would it be okay if… Um, could I try…”

Michiru looked up, unwilling to make a guess at what Haruka might ask, though her heart pounded ahead of her at a sprinter’s pace. The music had grown ever softer, it caressed them like a soft blanket, wrapping them close.

Haruka bit her lip and cast her eyes lower on MIchiru’s face. They couldn’t… and yet…

And then, from out of the room and down the hall, a bang against the front door cut through the song.

“Hello? Haruka?”

“That’s Mina!” Haruka said, her face lighting up as she pulled away. “Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet her.” She ran to the door.

Michiru stared after her. She ought to have known by now, that reality would have to crash in. There were no fairy tales for monsters like her.