Tag: sam writes

2017 Fic Masterpost

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

What a year, huh? I’ll have to edit this later if I finish any of the stuff I’m working on today, but I wanted to get a retrospective post up. Here’s every fic I wrote and published this year, with a final word count of 23,500. My goal for 2018 is to double that!

It’s Very You– Minako helps Haruka propose

It’s All a Mistake– Michiru confesses a secret to Rei before her wedding

Caldera– THIS IS THE FIC I’M PROUDEST OF. Amidst premonitions of doom, Haruka takes Michiru to the most beautiful place in the world.

First Days of School– Parallels between Michiru and her daughter

Fast Car– Haruka and Mina dream of freedom

Petrichor– Haruka and her daughter fluff

Cheiloproclitic– Wedding photos are a strain for Michiru

Keep Her– Michiru has to tell Haruka she’s pregnant

The Night Team– Haruka/Mina/Mako Vigilante Justice. I meant to continue this but *shrug* maybe in the new year

Being Human– Minako and Setsuna bond

The Edge– In a Serenity-dies AU, Minako loses herself to Venus, and Haruka is determined to bring her back

Laid Bare– Quiet Harumichi intimacy set in pre/early S-era

On the Night Of The Ball– Harumichi modern Cinderella

If Mako married outside the Senshi

Haunted Ground– Rei deals with a ghost from the past

One Last Little Light– Reinako angst

The Opposite of Destiny– AU in which Neptune and Uranus never awaken

Growing Up Fast Is Hard To Do, Parts 1, 2, 3 –Unhappy Outers Family

A Wedding, For Love– Michiru and her mother on the morning of her wedding

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

A Wedding, For Love

Michiru’s mother visits her on the morning of her wedding. A pretty short companion to A Wedding, For Real at just 900 words.

She’d sent Rei away on a series of menial missions—- call
the caterer one last time, check on their bouquets, go to the hall early to
ensure Haruka was in no amount of trouble. Setsuna, she told she wanted to be
left alone. The truth always worked with her.

Michiru stared herself down in the mirror. She was supposed
to be feeling things, she knew. She was supposed to be happy and dewy with
tears over the day and how beautiful she looked. But her reflection looked like
a doll, the fitted bodice of her dress and the arrangement of her hair too
perfect to be quite real. She’d been a doll for all her childhood. The urge to
be real and the need to be a beautiful bride worthy of marrying Haruka battled
within her. If she loosed just one strand of hair, snagged just one edge of
lace…

The door opened with a creak.

“I assure you I’m fine, Rei, and I do need you to—“

“You’ll find I can’t be kept away so easily.”

Michiru stood straighter and cleared all emotion from her
face. “Mother.”

“You look beautiful, though I do wish you’d let us help pick
the designer.” She came close and smoothed the lace over Michiru’s collarbone. “I
suppose I should be happy she didn’t take you to a department store.”

“If this is what you’re here for, I will have you removed.”

Her mother smiled. “You are still the woman I raised after
all.”

MIchiru said nothing.

“I merely wanted to get a picture with you before the
ceremony.”

“I’m to expect a photographer stationed outside the door,
aren’t I? The shot will be in the papers before I say ‘I do.’”

“Well, Michiru, there’s very little we’ve been able to put
out, lest anyone look into your choice of… partner.”

“Yes, I know I’ve quite ruined your plans. It’s so appalling
that I’ve fallen in love with someone who works for her living, isn’t it?”

“Have I taught you nothing? Love isn’t what’s important
here.”

Michiru let herself have a derisive laugh. “Yes, mother, if
there’s one thing you’ve taught me, it’s that.”

Her mother sighed and sat down, folding her hands over her
lap just so. “I suppose it’s easier for your kind.”

Michiru watched her in the mirror. “I’m not sure what you
mean.”

Her mother gestured vaguely with her hand, oddly
uncharacteristic. “To throw it all away for love. You all put so much into
getting marriage, you must feel like you have to marry whomever you want.”

Michiru froze. This was territory she’d never entered with
her mother.

In the mirror, Mrs. Kaioh rubbed her thumb against her
wedding ring. “It’s standard, for the rest of us to marry for other reasons.
Even people like your partner. You see it in the papers all the time. They
marry for insurance, or for tax reasons. It’s always been a business
transaction.”

“Did you love someone?” she dared ask, very quietly.

Her mother looked off, away from the mirror and away from
Michiru. “There was a boy, yes, before I met your father. Looking back, it was
very juvenile. He played polo with my brother. It was all a great secret. We
believed in it then, that we would find a way to bring the idea to our parents.
He wouldn’t have been a terrible match.”

“But then father came.”

“Neither I nor my parents could say no to his proposal.” She
ran her fingers along the hem of her dress, just as she had chided Michiru for as
a child. “I always thought we would find a similar proposal for you. It being a
woman is no great obstacle. You have an acquaintance, even, who is the daughter
of a senator…”

Michiru laughed—genuinely laughed in front of her mother for
the first time since childhood—unsure if it was funnier to hear her maid of
honor called her acquaintance or to hear it suggested that she could marry Rei.

Even her mother smiled. “I do suppose, with what I know, the
two of you would have a messy and expensive divorce.”

“That would only be if there wasn’t a messy and expensive
murder first.” Their eyes met in the mirror. “Haruka has something better than
money or status. She’s going to take care of me, even if you can’t understand
how.”

“You’re certain?”

“More than anything.” Michiru pressed her lips together,
mindful not to smudge her lipstick. “I thought for a long time I would marry
your way, and then hoped that I would not marry at all. But she… she shows me
there’s something more to life. There’s something worth it under the charade
and under the horror. I love her, and for that love I’m going to marry her.”

Mrs. Kaioh closed her eyes and sighed with the slightest
smile. “With all my love for you, I wish you the greatest happiness.”

“Thank you.” Michiru turned to face her.

Her mother immediately straightened in her chair and crossed
her ankles. “Well then, are you quite ready to leave? I will not have you cause
the spectacle of being late for your ceremony.”

Michiru turned back quickly, loosing one strand of hair near
her ear. She made sure that side faced the photographer as they passed him
outside, but she squeezed her mother’s hand tight, knowing they’d never have a moment
like this again.

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

Growing Up Fast Is Hard To Do: An Unhappy Outers Family Fic

Part Three (Part One/Part Two) (Ko-fi)

This part is about 1500 words, and pretty angsty.

There had to be something wrong with her, Hotaru knew.
Haruka never took her to the same park twice, unless she was particularly wound
up, and then she was greeted at home with stern whispers. Grocery stores were
on a specific rotation. Hotaru got to go where she’d been before sometimes, but
only with a different mother. She was encouraged not to talk to other children.
They couldn’t stop her from observing. So she saw—there was a little girl who
passed by the front yard every Saturday morning in her stroller. The little
girl looked the same every week. The boys who shoved their parents’ quarters
into the kiddie ride horse outside the grocery stores looked the same, too.
Hotaru did not look the same. She grew every few days, pajama pants getting too
short overnight. She saw children she’d resembled just days before struggle
with tasks she could now do easily. Hotaru twirled a pen in her hand. She
wanted to do something with the knowledge she was different.  

But that was where her knowledge ended. She’d asked Haruka
first, knowing she was easiest to crack. They’d gone out toy shopping, Haruka
promising to buy Hotaru anything she wanted.

“How about this?” she’s asked, pulling out an extravagant
Play-Doh set in vibrant neon colors.

“It doesn’t look like much fun.” Hotaru took a breath. “Papa,
should I find that more interesting than I do?”

“Of course not, sweetheart, you can like whatever you like.”
Haruka picked her up, struggling some as Hotaru was too lanky to fit against
her hip as she once had. “You don’t let anyone tell you what you like is wrong,
whether it’s girl things or boy things or little kid things or adult th—well,
not too adult now, but we can get you video games if you like, or—“

There was no one besides her mothers to tell Hotaru
anything. Expressing that, though, would be a pointless diversion. “That’s not
what I mean. A week ago, I might have liked that. This would have been the
right aisle to take me to.” Another parent and child wheeled their cart into
the aisle. The child bounced between shelves while their father looked on with
resignation.

“I looked like that recently,” Hotaru whispered.

Haruka gave a wry chuckle. “You’ve never been that excited,
sweetheart.”

“You’re missing the point!” Hotaru balled her fist and
stomped her foot. “I was that size, and most kids stay that size awhile. Why
don’t I?”

Haruka’s eyes went wide. She looked from Hotaru to the other
family and back again. “Uh. Well. Um. Ah. Kids grow at different paces, I always
grew faster than my moth—we shouldn’t talk about this here.” Haruka took her
hand and led her out to the parking lot. “There’s nothing wrong with you,
Hotaru. Don’t let anyone make you think there is.”

Hotaru had never felt such rage. How could Haruka-papa miss
the point so badly?  How could she not
see Hotaru’s problem at all? She seethed in silence all the way home.

Setsuna had fared no better.

“People age differently. I have been the same for longer
than anyone, and I know a little girl who did not grow for a very long time,
and then grew several years’ worth all at once.”

“But is that normal?”

“Who’s to say what’s normal, little one? We’re all
different. That’s the beauty of life.”

“Some people are much less different.”

“That may be true.”

Setsuna-mama prided herself on knowledge, and on sharing
that knowledge, but she would not share what Hotaru wanted.

“Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”

Setsuna had the decency to look remorseful. “You will find
out in time. We love you, Hotaru, and part of loving someone in protecting
them.”

It was a true statement and a false one, and Hotaru wanted
to rail against it but the dark suspicion that it was she herself that she was
being protect from ate her into acceptance.

It was precisely why she could not ask Michiru. If there was
some secret that made Hotaru horrible, Michiru would tell her. No dodging, no
sugar coating.

Well, Hotaru, the
Michiru in her head said, hands in her lap and uncaring placid smile on her lips.
The truth is you’re not a child at all.
You’re a monster. You’re too dangerous to be alone so we keep you here and
suffer.

Hotaru scribbled thick angry lines into the paper on her
desk. She could write and draw quite well now, but there was no satisfaction in
it. She wanted the truth, she wanted to destroy the lie, or destroy everything,
she wanted to tear down the world and make another, a better world, where she
was normal and could meet other kids and had a family that loved her in a way
she understood, and—

“Do you really want to know?”

Hotaru froze. The voice behind her was familiar yet foreign.
It was not from any of her mothers, yet she felt she heard it often.

“You had some of that, once,” the voice said. “Though you
were never quite normal.”

Hotaru braced herself and turned around. She saw not a
stranger, but herself, older and taller, dressed in a strange sailor suit and
holding something resembling a scythe.

“You were me,” the other said. “And we were sick, and we
were violated, and we were reborn.” She knelt so they were eye to eye. “You can
remember, but the truth can be hard. The happy parts as much as the sad parts.”

“I need to know. I need to know what’s wrong with me.”

The other smiled sadly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. All
there is now is you, and me. And I can’t exist unless you let me. You get a
choice this time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. If you want to remember, you will. Now, are you
sure?”

Hotaru squared her shoulders. “I’m sure.”

The other touched her hand to Hotaru’s forehead. A wall in
her mind crumbled and the memories behind it surged forward in a wave. Her
father, the accident, the parasite that had grown inside her. The fragility,
the fear, the pain, the blossom of hope when she’d met Chibiusa. Her triumph
with Saturn. Her rebirth. The decision to rest, to try for a normal life. Her
father’s love, confusion, resolve to do better than the things he could no
longer quite remember. And—

Hotaru’s eyes shot open. She stood in her room alone. Her
pants were too short again, her sweater too snug, but this was no time to
bother adjusting to her new height. She stormed out of her room to find Setsuna
in the kitchen.

“You stole me.”

Setsuna stopped, dishrag in hand. “Hotaru—“

“You tried to kill me and then you stole me.”

Their eyes met. Setsuna was brave enough to not look away.

“I have only done what was necessary for the circumstances.”

“You said you loved me.”

“And I do.” Setsuna dropped her dish into the water and
faced Hotaru properly. “We were made for the good of the world, not ourselves.
As Saturn, you know that.”

“You want me to be Saturn, but I get to choose. It’s my choice, even if you try to take it
away.”

“I know what you will choose. That is why I took you.”

Hotaru wanted to hit her, to scream, to become Saturn then
and there and destroy the world. Worse still, she wanted these things because
Setsuna was not wrong. Pluto was not wrong. Pluto did do what she saw to be
right in the time stream, and how could Hotaru argue even as she hurt? She turned
to leave the kitchen, and there was Haruka.

“I know what you did.”

Haruka froze, fear settling in behind her eyes.

“I will not give you absolution. You will not find it in me.”

“Hotaru, please—“

“How can you ask anything of me?” Hotaru did scream, now.
Haruka was wrong, Haruka was human, Haruka had no right to understand her so
little. “You would have killed me, and nothing you do will erase that. Nothing.”

“Hotaru, sweetheart, I—“

“Don’t call me that!”

“That’s enough.” Michiru came up behind Haruka, the
terrifying picture of calm Hotaru knew she would be. “You can be angry, you can
be hurt. We did what we had to, and so did you.”

“I want my real family.”

“Then go.”

“Michiru!”

She held a hand to silence Haruka’s protest. “You may go, if
you’d like to explain all this to your father. If not, we will continue to
provide for you.”

“I…” Hotaru thought of her father, barely recovered from all
that had happened. He knew her now as a baby. Would he recognize her? Would she
make him remember all mercy had let him forget? “I hate you!” She ran to her
room, ignoring Haruka’s sobs behind her.

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

Growing Up Fast Is Hard To Do: An Unhappy Outers Family Fic

Part Two! (Part One)

This chapter is about 1200 words. As I said before, let me know if you want to see this continue! And I have a ko-fi.

There was a small part of Setsuna that took joy in every
little bit Hotaru aged. She had all the official knowledge the world had to
offer about children, but Haruka could find that as well. The closer Hotaru got
to the age Small Lady had been, the more Setsuna had the edge of experience. It
shouldn’t be a contest, she knew, but Haruka distrusted her. Haruka would
exclude her if she thought it possible. It was Pluto’s place in the universe,
to stand alone and watch from afar. A child had changed that once before, and a
child could change it again. It wasn’t that Setsuna wanted to be loved best,
she just wanted to be loved.

Although perhaps being loved best wouldn’t be the worst
thing.

Haruka had hogged the baby, so surely it was not wrong for
Setsuna to draw the toddler’s attention to herself.

“Hotaru!” Haruka called once again from the patio doors. “Do
you want to come play catch?” She threw the ball up with exaggerated gusto,
practically falling back over herself to catch it.

“No thank you, Papa.”

Setsuna kept her smile to herself. This was their time
together, and Hotaru wanted that. She wanted to learn the songs and stories of
bygone eras. Only Setsuna could teach her that.

“Now, little one, in—“

“Setsuna-mama, where’s Michiru-mama?”

‘In her studio, I believe. Why do you ask?”

Hotaru jumped down from her seat, her hair and little dress
fanning out behind her. “I want to see her!”

“Oh.” Michiru did not participate in the secret tug-of-war. “I
don’t think she wants to be disturbed, Hotaru.”

“So I won’t disturb her.”

Setsuna followed with reluctance as Hotaru made her way
through the house. To the little girl’s credit, she did not run. She walked with
a seriousness beyond her years, as she did most things. Setsuna would place her
around four, possibly, though she remained very small so it was hard to say for
sure. Perhaps ascribing any age to Hotaru was pointless until her aging settled
down and her mind and body aligned. She was a mystery. Setsuna tried not to
think that as a mystery herself, that made her the best parent for Hotaru. She
did not succeed.

The door to Michiru’s studio was open. She sat before a
canvas, working with her finest brush on several tiny lines on one side.

“She’s busy, Hotaru,” Setsuna whispered. “We should leave
her be.”

“Michiru-mama?” Hotaru padded over anyway. “I want to paint
with you.”

Michiru withdrew her brush from the canvas. She smiled a
smile that was genuine but, by Setsuna’s measure, lacking the glow of love. “Mama’s
paints aren’t good for little hands.”

“Oh.” Hotaru hung her head.

“Hold on one moment.” Michiru walked around to one of her
cabinets and picked through it. She turned back with a pad of paper, an old
brush, and a handful of paint tubes. “I don’t use these very much, but you
still have to be very careful with them, okay?”

Hotaru nodded. “I will, Mama.”

“If it gets on your hands, tell me and we’ll wash it off
together.” Michiru smiled again. “Mama likes to paint quietly, is that okay?”

Another vigorous nod. “I will be quiet as a cat.”

Michiru chuckled. “Thank you, Hotaru. But do tell me if you
need anything.” She sat back at her canvas, and Hotaru settled on the floor
next to her and sorted through her paints.

Setsuna lingered at the door for a moment before taking her
leave. There would be other days. This was merely one of many. She had not lost
to the only person not competing.

—-

There was something comforting in having Hotaru working next
to her. Michiru did her best not to get attached. She could see the writing on
the wall; they could only play house for so long. And yet… it was hard, she
assumed, to not feel affection for a child who lived in your home. She ought to
ask her parents how they’d done it.

“Mama?” Hotaru’s little voice broke her reverie. “I have to
use the bathroom.”

“You may go.”

Hoatru did not move. She stared up at Michiru with her big
purple eyes full of question.

“Oh. Do you need… help?”

Hotaru nodded.

Michiru swallowed. This was out of her depth. She tried to
figure out if any nanny she’d looked into could be there soon enough to save
her. “Would you like me to call Haruka-papa or Setsuna-mama?”

Hotaru shook her head. “I gotta go now.”

“Okay.” Michiru set down her brush, nearly knocking over her
paints and water. “Let’s go then.”

Hotaru hopped quickly from foot to foot down the hall, and
continued to do so once she reached the toilet. “Hurry, Mama, hurry!”

“Okay.” Michiru put up the toilet lid. Hotaru still looked
expectant. With a deep breath, Michiru helped her wriggle her skirt and underclothes
to her ankles. Hotaru nodded encouragement. Michiru lifted her to the seat and
tried to pretend she was anywhere else.

Senshi life bore many trials. She’d never felt less
qualified than this.

Yet Hotaru seemed fine, even proud, when it was over and
Michiru gave her a boost to wash her hands.

“Hey, Hotaru, I got bubbles form the corner store, do you…”
Haruka zoomed into the door frame and stopped short. “Oh, hi Michiru.”

“I’m having a good day with Mama!” Hotaru said, beeming up
at her papa. “Do you want to see what I made?”

Michiru knew Haruka well enough to see how she tried to keep
her face stiff, but she still fell to looking like a lonely puppy. “Sure.”

Hotaru led the way back to the studio, marching proud. She
picked up her unfinished painting with a flourish. It was a crude and unsteady
work, but long deliberate lines of green made it an unmistakable portrait of
Michiru. “I gotta finish it still,” Hotaru said in her most serious voice. “But
it’s Michiru-mama!’

Haruka had been struck in battle countless times, but Michiru
had never seen her so wounded. “It’s very good,” she offered. “You must love
your Mama a lot. Maybe she’ll put it on her wall.”

Michiru knew what she had to do. “It’s alright.” She knelt
and frowned. “You should work on finer lines for the hair, and the perspective
is a bit of a mess.” She bit the inside of her cheek and looked Hotaru in the
eyes. “It’s alright for a first try, but I expect better from you.”

“Oh.” Hotaru turned the paper around to look, and then let
it drop to the floor. “Papa, you said you had bubbles?”

They walked out hand in hand. Michiru watched them leave.
Once they were out of sight, she picked up Hotaru’s painting. It was lovely in its
own way, pure and innocent and affectionate. She walked over to her cabinet and
propped it up against the back, where it would be hidden from everyone but her—her
secret memory to keep even after everything fell apart.

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

Growing Up Fast Is Hard To Do: An Unhappy Outers Family Fic

~1,400 words. This is something I might continue if there’s interest, it’s a concept that I find pretty rich. So if you like it, let me know! (or, if you want, I have a ko-fi)

Having Hotaru might have been the greatest thing to ever
happen to Haruka, she mused as she bounced the baby around the room. The little
girl smiled up at her. There were things that weren’t ideal—they were barely
out of school, Setsuna was a strange and intimidating roommate and co-parent,
evil was rising once again—but that smile was all Haruka needed. This was her
chance to live out her dream with Michiru, and they otherwise might not be able
to.

Hotaru’s eyes slowly closed and her weight sank more fully
against Haruka’s chest. Haruka felt her heart grow warm.

“Michiru!” she called as loud as she could while still whispering.
“Look, she’s falling asleep on me.”

Michiru leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “It’s very
sweet.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Haruka set Hotaru gently in the crib. She
let herself be pulled into the hall and shut the door.

“My suggestion still stands.”

“What sug—the nanny thing? No! This is wonderful, Michi, I’m
not gonna have some stranger meddling around with our kid.”

Michiru pressed her lips together. “She’s not our child. And
even if she were… there are a myriad of reasons I’m as well-adjusted as I am,
and most of them were on my parents’ payroll. I only think we should give
Hotaru the same opportunities.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I can be a good enough
parent?”

“No, Haruka.” She sighed heavily. “I’m just asking you to
think about it.”

“And I have!” Haruka shouted, before remembering the baby
was just a thin wall away. “I have,” she whispered. “I want this so bad, Michi.
She’s our little baby. Our little bundle of joy.”

Michiru did a decent impression of a smile. “I’m glad you’re
happy, love.”

But the uneasiness was there. It clouded in Haruka’s mind
alongside her own fears. After everything, couldn’t she be happy? Couldn’t she
be good? She deserved happiness—no, she deserved nothing. She forced a smile
back at Michiru. She, at least deserved something good.

Maybe that was the problem. Haruka’s smile turned genuine as
the thought entered her mind. Maybe Michiru didn’t think Haruka was a horrible
parent, maybe she was jealous. They were finally really together, after all,
and now Haruka was too focused on the baby.

“Why don’t we go out?”

Michiru gave a start. “Pardon?”

“We haven’t been on a date for a while, and what’s the point
of three parents if we don’t take advantage for some romance?” Haruka felt a
pang of something ugly at Setsuna being as much Hotaru’s parent as the two of
them, but she fought it down. For Michiru. “I wanna give you a beautiful night.”

Michiru looked puzzled, but happier. “I suppose I’d like
that. Shall I start making myself presentable?”

Haruka grabbed her around her middle. “You’re always
presentable and beautiful and amazing.” She kissed along her ear, feeling
immediately enchanted. Sometimes touching Michiru consumed her with the desire
to worship her, to pull her closer and closer until they were so tangled up in
each other they might be a single creature.

“Haruka!” Michiru giggled. “If you continue, I won’t let you
take me anywhere but the—“

Her words were cut off from a shrill cry from Hotaru. Haruka
jumped away. She’d forgotten, somehow, so quickly, about the baby.

“I’ll… I’ll, um, just see what she needs real quick. You can
start getting ready. I’ll be quick.”

It was not quick. The diaper was messy, Hotaru was fussy,
Haruka was guilty. She spent longer than was strictly necessary soothing Hotaru
back to sleep, and then had to shower. There was no part of her that wanted to
get a nanny, but as she scrubbed at her arms in the hot water, she did wonder
briefly if she would be better off. That seemed so selfish—one postponed date,
and she was looking to run the other way? No, that wasn’t Haruka. She was
better than that. She was more than her own parents could be.  She would make this work.

She put on a clean pressed shirt and Michiru’s favorite tie
and went down to the living room. Setsuna sat on the couch with a magazine. That
seemed out of place to Haruka. She felt Setsuna was a person who ought to be
sighted with big, impossible tomes of knowledge, not a flashy flimsy fashion
rag.

“You look very nice,” Setsuna said as she turned a page. “I
hope you have a lovely time.”

“Uh, thanks.” Haruka shuffled her feet against the carpet. “I
hope you have a good night in.”

Setsuna gave a soft, knowing smile. “Thank you. I believe I
shall.”

Haruka’s cheeks flushed hot with unbidden shame—they ought
to be equals, but Setsuna always made her feel like a simple child.

“Are you ready, love?” Michiru appeared at the top of the
stairs, and everything else faded to background noise. She wore a simple wrap
dress, just enough shades of pink from white to bring out her eyes. Her hair
curled at her bare shoulders. As always, she looked like an impossible dream.

Going out with her often felt the same way. It was a dream
everyone had, Haruka was sure—to be on the arm of the most beautiful woman in
any room, to have everyone looking at you and knowing that somehow, the most beautiful
woman has picked you, is getting dinner with you, is making everyone in the restaurant
jealous of you. Sometimes, it was too much, but that night, Haruka reveled in
it. She made eye contact with one man as they sat down and puffed out her chest
to show him he wouldn’t have even been in the running.

Dinner was nice, and Michiru’s attention was nicer. She held
Haruka’s hand on the white tablecloth and narrowed the world to the two of
them. It was an ability that amazed Haruka. She wondered sometimes if it was an
offshoot of Neptune’s powers or pure Michiru. She barely even noticed the
waiter, just that there was food and then there wasn’t and then Michiru was
pulling out her purse to handle the check.

“I can help with the tip,” Haruka said, returning to
herself. She should have paid more attention to the waiter, and she should have
more to offer Michiru besides.

Michiru gave her a particular unreadable smile she saved for
these moments. “Why don’t I put it on my card, and you can treat me back later?”
She wrote down a large number Haruka knew meant both that she was being
appeased and she would be unable to match the amount.

“I guess that’s alright.” Haruka leaned close. “Maybe I’ll
treat you when we get home. Make this worth your while.”

“An evening with you is always worthwhile. But…” Michiru
gave a tiny tug on Haruka’s tie. “I can think of a thing or two I might want.”

Surely Setsuna wouldn’t mind babysitting a little longer.

Haruka drove home as fast as she could without breaking too
many laws. The lights in the living room were still on as she pulled in; she
prepared to give Setsuna a good excuse as to why she should answer to any of
Hotaru’s cries when they were all home. Bonding time, maybe. Haruka hogged
little Hotaru, she knew, but that was because she loved her best. She could be
so gracious as to give Setsuna a night.

“Hey, Sets.” She said with her key in the door. “How was
your night?”

“Good thank you. I’m just reading Hotaru a story.”

“Oh good,” Haruka said as she kicked off her shoes. “How was—“

She froze. Her baby was not on the couch. A toddler, with
black hair down to her chin and big knowing eyes, looked up from next to
Setsuna.

Michiru placed her hand on Haruka’s shoulder. “Setsuna did
say—“

“What did you do to her?”

Setsuna sighed and closed her storybook. “I told you this
might happen. With whatever evil coming—“

“She’s a baby she shouldn’t—or she was a baby! And—“

“It’s okay, Papa. I want to be this right now.”

Haruka gaped. Fear, mixed with awe that someone so small
could speak so clearly, rammed against the joy of being called Papa for the
very first time. “Oh… okay. I’m sorry, Hotaru.”

The toddler turned back in her seat on the couch and kicked
out her legs. “Can we finish the story, Mama?”

“Of course.”

Haruka shrugged off Michiru’s comforting hand to go upstairs
alone. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all.

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

@awesomefrauellauniverse You’ve probably forgotten you ever prompted me, and this isn’t very good but I was determined to do something with your prompt. So here it is! Just under 900 words, in an AU where Uranus and Neptune didn’t awaken.

The Opposite of Destiny


Haruka
shot up from her tangle of blankets. “What was that?”

“It’s just the wind, babe, come back to sleep.”

But the wind alone was never so compelling. It had a
partner, sometimes, who was swift and direct and impossible to ignore.

“I’m going for a run.”

“What? It’s…” Sleepy fumbling for a phone. “It’s not
even four.”

“I gotta. I’m sorry, I’ll try and be back.”

“Try? Haruka-!”

But Haruka was already pulling on shorts and bolting out
the door. She would not be back, she knew, not really. It was hard to stay
still, stay rooted, when it found her. She had to escape to find her
peace. It always took time to catch up to her again.

Running
helped, when it was with her. Haruka figured it liked running too. She could
feel it beside her, keeping pace step for step. That was how she knew it to be
separate from the wind, although it seemed so similar. The wind did not have
feet. The wind came with her smooth and seamless. Its partner had a gait and a
pulse that matched Haruka’s.

“Maybe
I’ll tell her about you,” Haruka said a mile or so in. When she had a running partner,
she felt compelled to talk, even if she wasn’t sure how real it was. “Maybe I’ll
stay with her, with this job. What would you think of that?”

Her companion
said nothing, as always, but she could feel it calling her bluff. Sometimes she
moved on before it even found her.

“I’ve
always wanted to settle down with a woman, get married, the whole shindig. What
do you have against that?”

It was
not any of those things that it was against.

“One of
these days, you have to tell me why you’re here.”

But
that wasn’t fair. It tried. From the first moment she felt it, it had been
trying. Years and years of encounters, and it couldn’t get it across to her.
She felt the want, the compulsion to get her to somewhere, something, someone,
to make her understand. It needed something from her. When she was a young
teen, she’d fancied it a ghost, and in her secret heart of hearts, she’d hoped
the ghost was a girl who had fallen in love with her, wanted her, needed her.
The older she got, the more she knew that wasn’t right. It might be a ghost,
but not like that.

She let
it lead her today. The sun rose as they ran, through streets and parks and
trails. As much as she ran on her own, Haruka began to tire. Her partner slowed
for her, but drove her onwards. It had an urgency today. A hope. Haruka
wondered if it had figured out what to show her.

They
came upon a beach, and it let her walk. Haruka had always feared the water. She’d
had dreams of drowning as long as she could remember. If she wasn’t careful, one
day the water would swallow her up.

There
was only one other person on the beach this early. Haruka’s companion bid her
towards them.

Details
came into focus one by one. Long green hair, loose and frizzed in the sea
breeze. A canvas set up beside her, not yet painted on. A simple black dress.
Bare feet. The woman turned, then, and Haruka had the feeling they had met, but
she could not place her face.

“You’re…”
the woman started, but then frowned.

She had
something with her, too. Haruka could not say how she knew, but she’d never
encountered anyone like her before. “You have a ghost.” The words were out
before she could think of a better way to ask.

“Is that
what you call yours?” The woman looked out to the water. “I’ve always thought
of it as the spirit of the sea.”

“Mine’s
the wind, but also not.”

The
woman let out a low hum. She moved to the canvas and began to work.

“What
are you drawing?” Haruka asked, though she felt it was a stupid question.

“You
remind me of things I’ve seen in dreams.” The woman did not look away from her
paint. There were dark circles under her eyes, and wrinkles she hardly seemed
old enough for. “I dream often, and it’s always the same.” Her hands were
quick, the scene took shape on the canvas. Reds and blacks, a backdrop of
destruction, but in the foreground, a shining crystal cast light on what as
starting to take shape as a sword.

“Should
I let you be?”

The
woman hummed again. “The sea bid us to meet. It rarely asks more of me than to
paint.” She looked into Haruka’s eyes, then, sending a shiver down her spine. “Perhaps
you are the answer it can never give me.”

For the
first time, Haruka wondered if she wanted answers. She looked at the painting
again. Darkness. Death. A hope that hardly counted as such. She looked at the
woman. The sea.

The sea
would drown her, if she let it.

Haruka
turned and sprinted down the beach. She couldn’t face whatever the answer might
be. A life of wondering and wandering didn’t seem so bad anymore.

The
wind around her stilled as she ran. Uranus resigned herself to eternal sleep.

mina, one last little light

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

Mina held the candle between her palms. She’d tried to coax
it to be a roaring fire again, to keep it burning big and bright. But the flame
was small now, dwindling more and more, and she feared all the wood and
kindling would just choke it out sooner. She set it in a little holder on the
windowsill and pulled up a chair.

“It’s just you and me, hot stuff.” She rested her head on
her hand and winked and the candle flame. “Anything you want to do, now that we’re
alone?”

The offer did nothing to get a rise out of the flame. It
flickered on, ever smaller.

Mina pulled it closer. “A blaze of glory is enough on its
own, you know. It doesn’t have to be final.” She cupped her hand to the side of
the burning wick to protect it from any drafts. “You saved her. And me. Isn’t
that enough?”

The candle did not respond.

“No, you’re right, it’s not enough, she’s gonna need saving
again, and if you don’t come back now, you’re not gonna be here to do it. Who’re
you gonna trust to take care of her like you do? You always say I’m not enough
alone.”

The flame seemed a little brighter, maybe. Mina kept
talking.

“You know how I get. Too flighty or too hard, I’m not balanced
without you, and Usagi needs that balance. Can’t you do it for her?”

Dimmer, again. And then dimmer than before.

Mina put her head down. “I need you,” she whispered. “Can’t
you do it for me?”

For a moment, the flame grew large and bright, bigger than
the candle should be able to support. The room grew hot. Mina swore she felt a warm
hand squeeze hers. She closed her eyes and squeezed back, willing Rei to hold
on. They’d find a way to bring her back if she just held on.

But then the light went out entirely; the room went dark and
cold all at once. One single burning ember remained smoking on the candlewick.

Mina pulled it in and watched it pulse with her breath. “This
is it then.” She fought back her tears lest they fall on the candle. “I love
you, Rei. I hope you knew I always did.”

The last red spark faded to black. Mina sat alone in the
smell of smoke and felt the night stretch on forever.

rei, children’s footprints

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

The landscape had changed so much, it was only muscle memory
and the fine remnants of the psychic channel that led her to the spot. Trees
had sprung up where fire once ruled, creating a shadowy park in the midst of
the crystal city. The citizens avoided it. Rei had a wry appreciation that
their wariness remained hundreds of years after the shrine had been destroyed.

“It’s haunted ground,” she’d heard women say on streets
nearby. “So many people died there.”

There wasn’t a place in this city where people hadn’t died,
Rei knew. The price of this peace had been war, long, destructive, horrible
war. The shrine had been targeted, but so had hospitals, homes, schools.
Anywhere the senshi had connections. They were the world’s curse and its
saviors, though people only chose to think of the latter.

The shrine, though… Rei could understand why it loomed in
the citizens’ mythology. The spirit of her grandpa’s fires remained, the smell
of smoke lingered when nothing had burned since the day it all burned. She
placed her palm against one of the trees. She couldn’t feel their spirit the
way Makoto could, but she could feel the memory of fire inside them. They’d
claimed the land, but did not belong.

Their branches rustled as if to apologize to her. Rei sighed
into the wind. There were no real shrines in Crystal Tokyo.  No one, especially not Rei, had wanted to
build another after the destruction, but oftentimes she missed it. Not the
ostensible purpose of the shrine—the flame reading, the meditating, that they’d
built places for—but the overall feel. Sweeping the leaves. Teaching children
in the afternoons. Climbing the steps after a long day away.

Another sound came on the wind, soft laughter like that of
the children she used to mentor. She looked around. It wouldn’t surprise her if
this place had become the focus of young dares. It had been so many years
before, when her peers were still scared of her. There were footprints, she saw
now. Small bare feet had crossed through the dirt, seemingly recently.

The laughter came again, close behind her. She turned, but
there was no one there. It sounded again, on all sides. Rei froze. The hair
stood up on the back of her neck and she tried to focus her energy, find the
source. She closed her eyes. There.
She felt the presence before she saw it.

A girl stood before her, too young to be there on a dare.

Without thinking, Rei knelt to be eye level. “Are you lost?”

The girl blinked. She looked around and nodded.

“Are your parents nearby?”

She shook her head. “They’re gone. They’ve been gone awhile.”

Rei knew she meant dead. “I can take you somewhere, if you
need.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rei.”

The girl shook her head again. “I’m s’posed to be here. It’s
safe.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “It’s safe, right?”

Unease spread through Rei’s mind. She must not forget this
wasn’t an ordinary encounter. “Safe from what?”

The girl’s eyes went dark. The air around her bent as though
it rose from heat on hot asphalt. “That which rained death from the sky.”

Rei swallowed hard. She’d opened the shrine to orphans, when
things had gotten bad. Many of them had been there when it was hit.

“It wasn’t safe, was it?”

Rei hung her head. “It wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

The air twisted more around the girl and darkened. “I wanted
to go home. I wanted to leave, but only you could leave. Only you were safe.”

She wondered if the spirit knew she was Mars, that she’d
been fighting when the shrine was attacked, and if it would matter. “Nowhere
was safe. I’m so sorry.”

“Leave this place.” The girl’s body appeared cloaked in
purple flames. “You do not belong.”

“I—“ She felt emotions in quick succession: fear, sorrow,
anger. “It was my home. I’m sorry it happened like this, but–”

“Leave!” The spirit rushed her.

Rei dodged, readied an ofuda. “What do you want?”

“I want to go home!” The flames grew in size and intensity. “I
don’t want to be trapped here!” The girl rose off the ground and flew at her.

Rei swung the ofuda onto the girl’s forehead. The flames dissipated;
she fell into Rei’s arms, cold and quiet, before slowly adding away.

“Be at peace,” Rei whispered as she disappeared. “You’ll
find your way home now.”

She made her way out of the trees slowly, knowing she wouldn’t
return.

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

sittingoverheredreaming:

Oh man I ruined my own morning thinking about how if Mako ended up with someone outside the senshi, she’d have to watch them grow old and pass on while she stayed the same, IF they could even make it work in the circumstances, and how devastating that would be to her.

She looked so lucky to them, the first ten years or so. His parents told her she hasn’t aged a day every time they saw her; sisters commented how easily she “got her body back” after having their child. No wrinkles, no gray hair, she was what all the women in his life wished they could be.

When she told him, he joked it was a man’s dream, too. A wife that stayed as young and beautiful as the moment you met her. What wasn’t to love?

But he grew old, bald, paunchy, his eyes began to follow the grace of older women when they went out. He touched her less and less, shrinking away from even holding her smooth unwrinkled hands.

“I don’t think you should see my family anymore,” he said one day. “They’ll start asking questions.”

“We can answer them.”

“I don’t think we can.”

She stayed home while he made excuses for her and begged the mirror to show even one wrinkle, crows feet at her eyes or lines to the side of her mouth, anything to make her worthy again. But she looked just the same as she had at twenty two, no matter the decades that had passed.

He went alone even to their child’s graduation, too afraid that people would see how close in age his wife and daughter appeared. She watched the video he took later and didn’t let him see her cry. The end was coming, she knew. She had a thousand years left before her, and her family could not be with her.

He delivered the news the day their daughter moved out for college.
“I think— well, I know. I know I can’t do this. I thought… but I feel like I should be driving you to school, too.”

Her friends would say he didn’t deserve her, but the opposite was true. He was noble, and good. She’d finally found a good man, and that was the problem. A lesser person would revel in her youth. Her husband could only abhor it.

“We should stay friends,” he said. “I really do love you.”

She loved him too. The distance between the grew, and she had the forbearance not to close it. She watched as he met another woman, understood as their daughter gravitated more and more to her stepmother. It was natural, for the both of them. Her daughter looked older than she did now.

They always said if you loved something, you had to let it go, so that is what she did. She watched them grow old from afar and planted flowers on their graves, holding her memories close for her thousand years.

~ sittingoverheredreaming ~ Leave a comment

On the Night of the Ball

My entry for the prompt party, Harumichi Cinderella! Mine is a modern take, about 2600 words. Enjoy!

The phone rang just as Haruka had settled into the couch for
the night. She untangled from the blanket and dove for the old landline, the
long braid of her hair smacking into her back. The answering machine was in her
mother’s room, and it was best not to disturb her.

“Hello?”

“So you know how I bet you fifty bucks I’d get you to go to
the Halloween dance?”

“Mina, the dance is in an hour—“

“And I’ll call off the deal if you come over right now.”

Haruka sighed. “So I can either stay in pajamas and get
fifty bucks, or drag myself out and get nothing?”

Mina clucked into the phone. “You can either stay in, have
me come make a scene and pay me fifty bucks you don’t have when I get you to
the dance, or you can come over here and not have to worry.” There was a pause,
Haruka knew she was twirling her hair with her free hand. “How about this, if
you come over, I’ll still pay up if you don’t go. And I’ve got the movie butter
popcorn you like.”

“Fine, Mina. But I’m not changing my clothes.”

“Didn’t ask you to, buddy.”

Haruka slipped on her shoes without leaving a note. Her
mother would assume she was at Mina’s, if she even noticed. And unless Haruka
did something wrong, she didn’t notice.

They lived mercifully close, Mina just a few blocks away in
a marginally nicer house. Her mother would be out, and father home, but it
amounted to them being alone anyway. Haruka tucked the loose strands of her
hair back as she got to the door. It was never easy to know what to expect with
Mina. This could end with Mina literally dragging her to the dance, or it could
be a wild plan that mysteriously ended in the school gymnasium, and whoops,
look at that Haruka, you’re at the dance. Haruka gripped the door knob and
resigned herself to losing the bet in a night of misery.

Mina stood in the foyer, dressed in a long robe she must
have found at a thrift store. “Dahling, you made it,” she said in her best
old-movie actress voice, leaning against the wall with a hand on her head. “I
was beginning to worry.”

“What’s the plan, Mina?”

“Don’t look so resigned!” She smiled, big and devious. “I’m
going to give you the night of your life.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Haruka shoved her shoulder as they filed down
the hall to Mina’s bedroom. “You say that every night.”

“And compared to how you’d be without my stunning influence,
it’s true.” Mina hopped onto her bed, smushing several stuffed animals. “But
tonight is different. I’ve been saving up tips from the salon to pull this off.”

A new dread settled in Haruka’s stomach. “Mina, you shouldn’t
waste your money—“

“You say now, having been willing to rob me dry in a bet.”
Her eyes flashed, she knew she had Haruka. “I’ve still got my wages in the
move-out fund, don’t you worry. But tonight’s not about what we need, it’s
about what I want. And I want you to have a good time.”

“Then why can’t we stay in and watch movies?” Haruka did not
do dances—not the dresses, not the shoes, not the hair, and certainly not the
dancing, not where everyone could see her.

“Because we do that all the time. Tonight should be
different.” Mina cracked her knuckles. “See my plan through, and then you can
decide, okay? If you don’t like it, we’ll stay in and I’ll see what I can
return to the store tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

Mina jumped up and grabbed Haruka’s wrist. “We’ll start with
your hair.”

“Hey, wait, no. Off-limits. You promised when you started at
the salon—“

“That I’d never use you as a guinea pig for styling.” Mina
yanked her into the bathroom. “I’m not styling your hair, Haruka, I’m cutting
it.”

“What?”

“I’m cutting your hair.” She pulled out a clipper set. “That’s
always been part of the problem, hasn’t it?”

“I…” Haruka pulled on the end of her braid. “My mom…”

“Tell her it’s for a costume, and if she kicks you out
anyway, you’ll stay here.” Mina softened and put her hands on Haruka’s
shoulders. “Halloween is about being whatever and whoever you want to be. I,
for one, want to be a slutty, slutty vampire, forever young and beautiful. You
want to be something else. You can try it, for tonight, and if it’s not right
you say it was all play and let your hair grow and no one will bat an eye.”

Haruka looked in the mirror. She wanted it. Always had. Her
mother had caught her as a child, cutting her hair with the kitchen scissors to
look like a boy’s. She had not been allowed anything more than a trim ever
since. “Do you think it would look okay? You don’t think I’d look too…” She
meant to say boyish, but couldn’t. Part of her wanted that, too. Not to be a
boy,  but to look and exist in that space
she’d rarely seen occupied, of being a different sort of woman.

“This might not be the right thing to say, buddy, but I
think you might look kind of…” Mina stretched back, forcing nonchalance, “well,
kind of handsome.”

Haruka bit her tongue. She leaned closer to the mirror,
covered the start of her braid with her hands, a poor approximation of how it
might look. “I wanna do it.”

“Okay.” Mina pulled out scissors and held them to the base
of the braid. “Ready?”

Haruka took a deep breath. “Ready.”

The scissors snipped, hacking through, once, twice, three
times, and – thump! The braid fell to the tile like a dead animal. The bob of
Haruka’s remaining hair fanned around her face. Her head felt light, the smallest
motion made easier and bigger without the weight of the braid. Mina trimmed it
shorter, then switched to the clippers.

“This might tickle some.”

Just the sound as she turned it on sent shivers up Haruka’s
back. It vibrated the air with a magic she’d lusted after through barber shop
windows. Mina ran it up her head from her neck, and Haruka had to fight to keep
still. She couldn’t mess up her chance to look how she dreamed.

Slowly more hair fell to the floor in feathery clumps, until
Mina turned off the clippers and dusted Haruka off. Haruka tried not to cry—the mirror
now showed a woman standing tall even in her giant hoodie, hair just long
enough to be fluffy on top but shaped on the sides. “Mina…” she swallowed hard.
“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, buddy. We’re only half done.”

Haruka had no more words of protest or question. Mina led
the way back to her room and threw open her closet.

Haruka’s breath caught as she pulled out a suit.

“I can’t promise it will fit great, men’s sizing isn’t the
same. But, you know, I tried and it should be close.” She rummaged through her
drawers and pulled out a brilliant navy tie and a matching masquerade mask.

“This is too much, I can’t accept…”

“If this is a money thing, Haruka, don’t worry. I’ve been
planning this long enough that I had time to get good deals.” She opened the
suit jacket to reveal a big red stain on the lining. “Somehow, this has been in
Goodwill for a long time, even though they insist it’s only ketchup.”

Haruka laughed in spite of her awe. “I ever tell you you’re
too good to me?”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you Mina,
you’re the best and I’ll never doubt your judgement again.’”

“Thank you, Mina.”

Minako rolled her eyes. “Now, I’m going to change into my
vampire dress, and give you a moment. We’ll have to leave in a few.” She
grabbed her costume and vacated to the bathroom.

Haruka ran her hands along the suit sleeves. She’d worn men’s
clothes before, flying under the wire with hoodies and tee-shirts that weren’t
great but kept her from wanting to crawl out of her skin. This was something
else entirely. She rubbed at the base of her neck, where her braid had been
replaced with fuzz. She’d enter the dance a different person from the one who’d
left school that day. Even if it was only for tonight, she’d be the woman she’d
always dreamed of.

Slowly, she pulled off her sweatpants, then her hoodie. She
slid on the pants, happy to find them only slightly too short. She stole a pair
of black socks from Mina’s drawer to hide it. The shirt, on the other hand, was
long, but tucked in it made no difference. Haruka pulled on the jacket slowly,
suddenly worried it would make it all farcical, she’d be the ordinary gangly
girl, dressing up like someone she wasn’t. But it settled onto her shoulders, tight
but not too restrictive, and she turned to Mina’s full-length mirror with bated
breath.

It didn’t fit perfectly. But it wasn’t glaring, and she
looked… real. Or she felt real. She couldn’t think of how to say it. She
fumbled with the tie until Mina came back in.

“Damn, buddy, you clean up nice.”

Haruka chuckled, then choked into tears. “Will you help me?
I don’t know—“

Mina took the tie and stood behind her. “Now, you be sure to
tell everyone I’m very good with my hands.” She smoothed Haruka’s collar and
centered the knot. “The ladies are gonna eat their hearts out.”

“Do you think…” She hadn’t allowed herself to think too much
about anyone who might be at the dance, committed as she had been to not going.
But there was the girl, from homeroom, who’d sometimes caught her eye, and…

“Drag your gay ass back to earth now, buddy, you can either
dream or make it happen. If we don’t leave, we’ll be much more than fashionably
late.” She pulled the mask on Haruka’s head and they set out together into the
night.

The gym was pulsing and packed when they arrived. The only
lights came in flashing colors and through the door to the hall. Haruka pulled
at the ends of her jacket.

Mina rubbed her back. “Don’t worry buddy, you’re gonna be
great.”

“Nice suit, bro!” A footballer called as he passed.

Haruka swallowed. “They don’t recognize me.”

“Drastic haircuts and masks will do that. You okay?”

“Yeah I just… I feel different, too.”

Mina smiled. “Be who you wanna be, Haruka.” She paused. “Split
up or stay together?”

Haruka scanned the crowd, looking for the green hair of
homeroom girl. “Can we… Can I try being on my own?”

“Spread your gay little wings, buddy. You can find me if you
need me.”

 —–

Michiru wondered sometimes why she attended dances.
Homecoming and prom she understood—they were appearances, she would be crowned
Queen and have her picture in the papers, and her family would have one more
thing to brag to their friends about. But the mid-year frivolities… She sighed
and nodded as Rei chewed out a boy for asking her to dance. Why Rei came was perhaps
a bigger mystery– though she faced a different side of the same pressures as
Michiru, she was less apt to playing along. She knew Senator Hino oft wished he’d
had a son, so that his child might court the Kaioh prodigy rather than compete
with her. That Rei would have better luck as she was was lost on him.

Michiru supposed the night would go as it always did—accept a
dance from her homecoming king, and then a few from those who might be her
match for prom. Perhaps it all came down to training, the sweaty gym was the
young version of a high society gala, the attendees not yet skilled in hiding
their crude underbellies.

But then someone caught her eye. At first it seemed a boy in
a sharp costume, going for a formal masquerade rather than any of the silliness
others sported. But then she noticed the slight curve of chest and hip, the
uncertainty in movement, the charming line of the chin.

It was a girl, and a girl the way the partners of Michiru’s
dreams were girls. Their eyes met through her mask. There was something
familiar, though Michiru had never met anyone like her before. She rose from
her seat on the bleachers, not bothering to let Rei know where she as going. She
needed to know the stranger. She needed to meet this woman.

As if on cue, the dj announced the first slow song of the
night.

“Um, hi,” the other girl said as Michiru drew close.

Michiru could feel her nervousness. There was something
endlessly charming about it. “Hello.”

“Would you, well, would you like to dance with me?”

“I would.”

The butch’s hand was sweaty as she took Michiru’s, her
fingers shaking slightly. Michiru guided her other hand to her waist. As their
eyes met again, close enough to feel each other’s breath, Michiru felt a
familiarity she hadn’t expected.

“We’ve met, haven’t we?”

“Sort of.” She flushed red under her mask.

Michiru thought of the tomboy in homeroom, blushing whenever
the teacher called on her, playing with her long hair like she wanted to
disappear. Michiru had thought of her, looked at her, more than she cared to
admit. They’d sort of met, hadn’t they? Having never spoken, but seeing each other
every morning… Michiru ran her hand along the edge of the girl’s hair, wondering
how recently it had been cut. “I don’t want to be wrong about who you are.”

“Don’t guess.” Her eyes widened, like hearing the wrong name
might break her. “I think… Monday, if you want to find me, you’ll be able to.
And if you don’t, it’s okay.”

I’ll want to find you.
But Michiru said nothing and sank into the girl for the rest of the song. She
could feel their heartbeats mix in their fingertips, the other girl’s pounding hard
even as she got more confident in her movements.

“Tell me something that isn’t your name,” Michiru said
finally as the music faded into another DJ announcement.

“Um. My favorite color is blue, which I know isn’t original,
but it’s nice.” Michiru nodded for her to keep going. “And… I like flowers, but
not how people perceive liking flowers. Besides right now, running is about the
only time I really feel good.” She blushed again, and swallowed hard. “And
maybe this goes without saying, but in case it doesn’t, I’m… I like girls. And
I am a girl.”

Michiru stepped into what little space remained between
them. “I have one more question.”

The girl swallowed again. “Okay.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes went wide, but she nodded. Michiru stood on tip toe
and, gently as she could, placed her lips on hers. For a moment, the whole
world was still, narrowed down to the two of them.

Michiru rose a hand to the girl’s face as she pulled away. “I
want to know who you are.”

“I think you’ll be disappointed.”

“I don’t.” Though she wondered—if it wasn’t the girl she’d
been watching, would she be? “Whoever you are, I want to see you again.”

“Well. If that’s true, you’ll see me at school. And if– if
you still want to… you can ask me then.” She took Michiru’s hand and kissed her
knuckles. “I think I should leave. This… I want to keep this night beautiful.”

Before Michiru could protest, she was gone, taken from
Michiru’s sight in the crowd of bodies.

She closed her eyes, committing every second to memory. Come
Monday, she’d find the girl.