"I guess I'm an underwater thing so I guess I can't take it personally I guess I'm an underwater thing I'm liquid running there's a sea secret in me it's plain to see it is rising but I must be flowing liquid diamonds calling for my soul at the corners of the world" --Tori Amos "Liquid Diamonds" ------- "The Hardest Step" a fanfic by Ysabet Original release date: June 5th, 1998 Soft breathing tells me that she's finally asleep; I carefully untangle myself from her arms and slip out of bed. She doesn't wake up, thankfully; we both need sleep, and at least one of us should get some. I walk over to the window and look back at her. The moonlight is pouring in through the glass, turning her hair and skin silver; it feels like strength running into my body, has ever since we rejoined the others, those little girls, that girl. We are so much stronger now, now that Hotaru is with us, now that the power of Saturn's Awakening has awakened us, that I expect to see my planetary sigil burning in my reflection. It amazes me that we still look like ourselves. I can sense Hotaru asleep down the hall, and Setsuna awake as always downstairs. I have never seen her sleep, though she says she does. Her presence is comforting; I remember being a little girl, only twelve, and coming to stay in this house with her, for quiet weekends. I remember listening to the wind outside and the murmur of the ocean in the back of my mind, and Setsuna coming to tuck me in. In some ways she treated me like a child, brushing my long hair out for bed as she now does Hotaru's, telling me stories . . . in other ways she let me be completely free. I remember walking down the hall, climbing the steps to the roof as I do now, and she never tried to stop me. The roof is familiar to my bare feet, and I walk almost to the edge and sit down. When I was a little girl, only five years ago, my nightgown would billow around me; tonight I sit naked and stare into the night, the wind running through my hair like Haruka's fingers, whispering with her voice; my skin chills, still faintly sticky from loving her. Thinking I am alone up here, I am still so gently surrounded by her--her touch and voice in the air, her scent and taste on my skin and lips--that her hand touching my shoulder from behind almost goes unnoticed as she crouches beside me. "You should be asleep," I tell her, reaching up to touch her face. "You should too," she counters idly, despite the fact that we both know she will be only semi-functional in the morning if she doesn't get her eight-hour-and-forty-five-minute bare minimum of sleep, and I will be bright-eyed and agreeable with anywhere between five and six. This is not to say that we haven't been known to awaken simultaneously and realize that we fell asleep almost twenty-four hours earlier, but . . . we have also been known to stay awake and battle-ready for as long as four days, counting the time it takes to come down from the adrenaline rush. Ignoring what must be the tempting call of bed and sleep, she sits behind me and begins to undo the soft tangles that her Element has made of my hair, and then to gather it into a braid. That done, she starts to knead my shoulders. "You're carrying more tension, Michi," she tells me, applying a little more pressure. I let my head drop forward, enjoying the touch. She's right; I can feel the knots shifting under her fingers. She doesn't ask what's bothering me; the silence welcomes anything I may want to ask or tell her, but is not demanding. For a little while I sit with her in the moonlight while her hands work; then a more simple need to be held takes precedence over the loosening muscles, and I nestle back against her. Familiar arms cradle me securely. She is so strong, stronger than any of us, even Mako-chan. "Do you feel ready?" I ask her suddenly. I feel the puzzlement in her response. "Ready for what, love?" "Ready . . . ready to leave all of this. To have a life other than being soldiers, outside of this little world we've built for ourselves. Ready to leave this house again, every day, in a school uniform like everyone else." I sigh. "Are we ready to be ordinary, at a regular school instead of our elite academy? I'm a classical violinist; you're a top-ranked driver. No matter how famous we are in our circles, very few people at the 10th District High School are going to care. Do you feel ready?" Haruka is silent for a moment. "Not really," she admits. "The worst of it is . . . we still won't be ordinary. We still have concerts and races to eat into our time, and probably no one will cut us any slack for them. We have a home to maintain and a daughter to raise. And for all we know, we may have to go back to battle." "Do you want that?" I ask. Her heart pounds under my ear, and I listen to its familiar beat as she kisses my forehead, delaying her response. I know she wants to say no, of course not. Who wants to fight? But I know that in those brief times when we've thought we'd achieved peace she's missed the adrenaline highs that fighting gives her, and the power channeling through her body. After another time of silence she answers honestly. "I don't want war. But I'm still a warrior, and this peace has no use for us. When Serenity rules, it'll be different. We'll have real things to do, and actually have to work to maintain peace. I can live with that. But in the meantime, peace means studying and being forced to wear a dress to this new school of ours." I chuckle in spite of myself. It is so very typical of Haruka to bemoan the loss of the unique permission to wear a male uniform that she had at our old school, instead of missing the prestige of being a student there and being recognized across Tokyo as one of the most talented and intellectually gifted people of our generation. I straighten up to kiss her. "But you look adorable in that dress, love. It's not as revealing as your fuku." She arches an eyebrow at me. "I'm not adorable in my fuku?" "Definitely not. Adorable is for schoolgirls. In your fuku, you just look gorgeous." I reach up and pat her head in mock-sympathy. "It's just possible that no one will even connect your adorable school-girl self with your persona as a male racer. Maybe your cover won't get blown and you'll still have flocks of pretty girls thronging after you." She laughs in spite of herself; I know she really does enjoy all the attention. Lucky for her I don't really get jealous; though I pretend to sometimes, we both know it's only a game. I can feel the night air getting chillier on my skin, and shiver. We're not exactly dressed for the cold, and besides, Haruka really does need sleep. She won't get it here. "Let's go back," I say, and as we reach the door the wind picks up. Haruka chuckles and blows a kiss to her Element, playfully saying goodnight. It howls outside our window; I imagine that it mourns losing her to the stale indoor air yet again, the way the tides try to keep me when I swim in the sea. Returning to bed, we hug each other tightly to recover body heat. I don't feel any more ready to rejoin the real world than I did before, but I feel better for talking to my partner. She understands me so well. ------- "Michiru-mama!" I grin in spite of myself at Hotaru's bright eyes. She is wandering about the kitchen, excited to be off to school, allowing herself to be a little girl for once. We've made arrangements for her to attend the same school as Chibiusa-chan, though we couldn't get her into the same homeroom. That won't matter for long, though; Chibiusa will be going home to the future soon. Hotaru is trying not to think that far ahead, I suspect. Personally, I just hope Chibiusa will be around long enough for my daughter to learn the ropes and meet a few new people, without being left alone. I can't help but remember how lonely Hotaru seemed when she was older; leaning over, I hug her tightly, and feel her snuggle contentedly into my arms. In the sudden silence we can hear Haruka practicing piano in the next room. She likes to practice technique first thing, to wake the rest of her up along with her fingers, and will play her pieces later. I prefer to take my violin out when I come home, to relax after a long day . . . if I haven't simply been making music with it all day long. She's almost done her scales; she's gotten to C-flat major, first playing both octaves in one direction, then in opposition. She stays in the key. Arpeggios. Broken chords. Triads. Now the relative minor key. The notes are flying by so fast, as she works out a bit of tension; she's nervous too. Bad enough to be at a new school, but we're starting late because we didn't expect to go back this year. I listen as Haruka begins her finger exercises. Today she's drilling for speed, speed and accuracy. Can she have played in over twenty keys already? In solo practice, she's technically exquisite. But it's when she plays for the sake of the music that she unlocks her instrument's full potential. She could perform alone at the level I do, but she refuses to play on a stage except as my accompanist. For all the brilliance she displays, music is not her true love. Cars are. Oh yes, and I suppose I am too. I smile with the thought. "Michiru-mama?" "Hmm? What is it?" I feel my smile widen to include our daughter. "May I see your uniform?" I nod and stand up, letting her look. White blouse, navy skirt and bow. Simplicity itself. No need or room for elegance here; I too have allowed myself to be relegated to the ranks of adorable schoolgirls. I see this opinion reflected in Hotaru's eyes. "You look very nice," she offers, and she means it. I do look nice. But I'm afraid I don't quite look like me. Haruka appears in the doorway, dressed, of course, in exactly the same way I am. She looks extremely cute. She also looks awfully uncomfortable and irritable. It's not the idea of a skirt that's doing this to her, even if she does almost always wear masculine clothes; she's at ease in formal dresses, though she prefers tuxedos, and she does occasionally opt for feminine clothing. She is perfectly at home in her fuku, which shows off her definitely-female body to beautiful advantage. But her eyes tell me that this uniform is degrading to her, and nothing she would ever wear of her own free will. When she doesn't dress sharply, it's deliberate; her casual clothes are always artfully chosen. She meets my gaze. "I feel like a trained monkey," she says bluntly. "But you look pretty, Haruka-papa," Hotaru tells her earnestly. Haruka ruffles the dark hair affectionately. "So do you, kitten." A shy smile. "I have something for you," Hotaru says. "Setsuna- mama took me shopping." My, what a surprise. I grin inside. The guardian of time is an unashamed shop-a-holic. Hotaru scampers away, so light on her feet, and twirls back. She clutches two gleaming chains in her hands, and passes one to each of us. I look down at mine. Simplicity again, but the silver necklace is also quietly sophisticated, without the flashiness that could keep it from being worn to school. There is something incredibly subtle about it, so that the links move almost like waves as the chain trickles between my fingers. I glance over at the gift she's given Haruka: a golden chain, bolder and more likely to win disapproving glances from school officials. But not enough to be forbidden. It's just a little too long to qualify as a choker. I look a bit more closely, and see that what I thought was a clasp is a tiny, detailed replica of Haruka's Talisman, the Space Sword. We look at each other and smile. Hotaru is looking up at us, seeking approval and trying to explain. "Yours is like the ocean, Michiru-mama; but nothing like your Mirror because you always have it with you anyway . . . and that" she nods at Haruka's gift "is so you have something to touch when you feel like drawing your Sword on someone." Haruka laughs out loud and scoops Hotaru completely off her feet; I move to them and we hug our daughter between us. "They're lovely, Hotaru, and very thoughtful of you." She smiles shyly. We take turns supporting her weight while we put the jewelry on. They're well-proportioned for us; I can see that the small sword will hang above Haruka's gold cross when she wears it. We all sense Setsuna's presence at once, though she makes no betraying sound. No school uniform for her; the classes she's decided to take on the side to occupy herself while the rest of us are out are at the local university. She looks exotic today, despite sensible clothes. I think it's the way her hair appears to be woven into a number of French braids as well as wrapping around itself in a few places, vanishing down her back in what looks like braids mixed with loose locks and a few pieces of ribbon. "Are you ready to go, Hotaru?" We've decided that for the first little while Setsuna should deal with Hotaru's school, until Haruka and I adapt to our schedules and find enough flexibility to change clothes and pick her up sometimes. No point in letting her teachers see her parents for the high school students that we are. That would be a good way to risk having our records looked at, and I suspect that the legalities of our custody of Hotaru may not stand up to intense scrutiny. We set Hotaru down, and Setsuna hugs us all good morning. She's in an almost affectionate mood these days; in gesture, that is. Her eyes have always been loving, but it's often hard for her to be unreserved. The two of them wave goodbye and head off to their classes, Hotaru bouncy with the prospect of seeing her best friend. Haruka looks at me. "So . . . are you ready?" I nod, and we both sigh at once. Leaving takes no time at all, only picking up our books and locking up behind us. So soon, we're on our way. ------- Haruka drives a bit more cautiously than usual; not more cautious in the way she attacks the road, but keeping an even closer eye out for police than usual. We get to school in record time, regardless, and find a parking spot. We are only a few feet into the building when we find ourselves surrounded by four of the five Inner soldiers. Usagi and Minako are on us at once. "Michiru-san! Haruka-san!" Their enthusiastic greeting can probably be heard halfway through the school. Makoto grins instead of shrieking, and Ami simply slips closer to say hello. "Rei-chan sent these for your first day," she offers quietly. From a pocket she produces a pair of good luck charms from the Hikawa shrine. "And she said a prayer for you," Ami adds, handing them to us. I feel the faint depression I've been having lift again. These girls try so wholeheartedly to be good friends to us. Vague memories from the Silver Millennium say that Inner and Outer warriors aren't supposed to be as close as we're all becoming . . . but as time goes on, we all seem to be less bound by tradition and the 'way things were', to be forging our own way. Serenity, raised again in this world, is very different than Queen Selenity probably envisioned. I let her take my hand lightly and lead me in the direction of my first class, while Makoto takes Haruka. Usagi is lighthearted and full of chatter as always, and she glances at me from time to time to see what I think. The silly girl still looks for my approval so often. I wonder sometimes if she realizes that I am as in awe of her as she is of my partner and I. ------- When I was a little girl, I went swimming often. My parents weren't rich, but they knew I loved the water and they always tried to give me what I wanted. I swam in all the local pools and would wander down to the public baths. But nothing prepared me for the first time I saw the ocean. It must have been fourteen years ago, but I still remember clearly the feeling of wonder that filled me as I looked out at the water that went on forever, dancing and sparkling in the summer sun. I think I just stood there staring at it until my father took me to the edge, and then I ran in. He stayed close, but wasn't too protective because even then I was a good swimmer, precocious for my age. I remember taking a deep breath and slipping under the waves. Here is where I stop being sure of my memory. I remember opening my eyes under the water and feeling the power and force of the sea enveloping me. My hair draped across my face and moved with the currents. I stopped moving, but I didn't stop breathing. Under the ocean's influence, I do not remember needing air to breathe. I only remember the soul-deep recognition of my Element. And the first thing after that is my father lifting me out of the water, panic in his eyes. He took me back to shore, and he and my mother waited to be sure I was all right. They stayed even closer when they finally let me go back to the water. I do not remember feeling as if I was going to drown. Water has never evoked that sensation in me, especially not the living water of the sea. But today, today I feel as if I am going to drown in this tide of humanity that pulses around me. Luckily enough, I started my day in music theory class, which was somewhat relaxing, and moved on to English, which woke my brain up enough to deal with the somewhat more challenging classes that came after. Some of my classmates noticed me, and the familiar look of envy was already in their eyes, as they saw how well I tend to do academically. They noticed me for what I think of as the wrong reasons . . . no one has recognized me for the musician I am, not even in music class (other than my teacher, that is). I haven't so much as caught a glimpse of Haruka, and the fleeting moment when I passed Mako-chan in the hall was not enough to chase the awkward loneliness I feel away, even if her smile did lift my spirits briefly. I am different. This knowledge burns me. I can't reach out to most of these people because I am different. I am not the genius Ami is, but I am very smart. I am musically brilliant and a renowned artist. I am extremely wealthy. I am a seventeen year old lesbian openly living with my lover and our daughter. I am a soldier. I have lived a dangerous life, and have lost it already, by having my heart taken out of me. I have a long road ahead of me; I may never die. I am so different from this herd of children, many of whom are older than I, that I can taste it. I am suddenly, intensely lonely . . . and I hear my mother's voice in my head, chanting that old refrain that I knew so well as a child. I heard it almost every time I came home upset because many of the others didn't like me. <"The nail that sticks up is hammered down, Michi. Can't you try to be a bit more like the other children?"> I could try. Sometimes I did try. But it was one of the few things I could never succeed at. Suddenly I feel very, very old. The sad feelings lift a bit as I see Ami approaching in the corridor; her eyes light on me and she quickens her pace and calls to me. "Michiru-san! I've been looking for you." I see the faintest shimmer of magic as her computer vanishes, and I doubt that she's had to do much searching on her own. "Hi, Ami-chan. What can I do for you?" "Haruka-san asked if I could find you; she says she hasn't seen you all day." My mood improves drastically. "Are you free now?" I nod and follow her through the halls until we find ourselves near the gymnasium. Haruka is just inside the doorway, waiting for us, idly fidgeting in her skirt. She smiles as she sees me. "Michiru!" I find myself in her arms and we hold each other for just a moment. As we break the embrace, I realize an older woman is watching us a bit uncomfortably. Haruka looks at her and meets her gaze steadily. "Tezuka-sensei, this is my partner, Kaioh Michiru, and our friend Mizuno Ami. Michi, this is the coach for the girls' track team." Ah. I smile pleasantly at Tezuka and bow in greeting. "She's decided to let me try out even though it's past the usual deadline." I glance at Haruka, amused. Only a complete fool would refuse to take her because of something like that; I'm sure this coach has heard of her, maybe even sent runners against her in the past. I show Haruka approval with my eyes, and she relaxes a little. "All right then, Tenoh-san, go get changed," Tezuka says. Haruka grins at me and sprints away, light on her feet. As she goes, the coach looks appraisingly at me. "Her partner, are you?" I nod. "Are you in eleventh grade as well?" "Yes ma'am." I see Ami give me a small wave and realize she has to be off to juku already. I wave goodbye and then look back. "Do you run?" "I can, sensei, but it's not really my thing." "Oh? What might your 'thing' be?" "Athletically or otherwise?" I ask. "Either." "Well, I like to swim and dive for exercise; otherwise, I'm a musician. And an artist." Haruka reappears, clad in shorts and a light shirt and looking more comfortable than she has yet today. "Michiru is an excellent violinist," she says. I can hear the quiet pride in her voice. Tezuka eyes me, appraisingly. "Is she much of a swimmer? The team is in sorry shape this year and could use someone." Haruka chuckles. "She was born to the water." "Is that so." She looks at me again, then gestures for us to follow her to the track. A number of other girls are there, waiting, and I see Haruka's eyes flicker. She didn't know she'd have an audience. I look at the other students and see that a few of them recognize her. She meets the gaze of one of them; the other girl's eyes are hard. I decide she must be one of Haruka's old rivals. "Girls," Tezuka says calmly, "this is Tenoh Haruka. She'll be trying out today. Who wants to run with her?" I watch as they think about it. Some of them are unsure; all of them seem to have recognized her name. Haruka's reputation has come ahead of her. I wonder if they realize that she and the star driver of the same name are the same person. A few moments pass. Finally one slight girl stands up. "I will." Tezuka gestures for the two of them to step onto the track. "100 meters," she instructs. Haruka and the other girl ready themselves. "Go!" And they're gone. The girl moves very well, but she is no match for my partner's glorious speed. Haruka runs with a joy that captivates the eye, a rhythm and beauty that almost make it difficult to notice just how fast she's moving. Then she's past the 100 meter mark, and slows to a stop. Her opponent is noticeably behind, openly gawking as she too finishes. The rest of the team is staring. The two lope back to the rest of us. Haruka is breathing harder than usual, but she's far from winded. I see Tezuka notice that. "You weren't running at top speed, Tenoh?" Haruka flushes a little. "Close to it, sensei." "Let me make something clear: all the girls on my team are expected to give their _best_ effort, _every_ time. Understood?" Haruka nods, looking a bit chastened. "Good. You're in. Practice is for one hour after school, three days a week, with extra time before meets." Tezuka turns and eyes me. "Do you want to try?" I blink, caught off guard. "Umm . . . " "I know, you say it's not your thing. But you also say you can do it. Idle boasting?" Now I stare. I hadn't been boasting, I'd only said I can run. I didn't say anything about how well. "If we could have a few moments of your time, Kaioh-san . . . " The woman is actually looking expectant! "I . . . well, I . . . " I look at Haruka. "Go put something more suitable on, and come back." "But . . !" I give up and look around to see where she might mean for me to go. Haruka catches my eye. "I'll take her, sensei." I follow her to what seems to be the changing room. Inside, she stops. "Michi, you don't have to run if you don't want to." "It's okay." I'm not seeing anything that looks like something I might want to wear. "Do you have any extra clothes, love?" Haruka cooperatively starts rummaging through her bag, and comes up with another pair of shorts. She keeps looking. I sigh. "How fast do you suppose I am?" She looks up. "Pretty fast, I'd say. You usually seem to keep pace with me." "When I'm Neptune, sure. But I don't run much like this." She looks thoughtful as she passes me a shirt. I put it with the shorts and begin to strip out of my uniform. "Here, I've staked out a locker." She takes the blouse and skirt from me and hangs them up with hers. I am pulling the shirt over my head (and watching Haruka watching me get dressed) when the door bangs open and a number of girls come pouring in. I quickly reach for the shorts and start to slip them on as well. I'm not particularly body-shy, but I don't like the indignity of being half- dressed in front of strangers. I was told once (by an admirer at a public bath, whose face Haruka later introduced to a wall because she felt he'd been too brash with me) that I have a gift for being poised and self-possessed while naked, something most people apparently lack. But that's not the same as being awkwardly tangled up in misplaced clothing. I finish dressing, though I'm still barefoot, and look around. It seems that it's the volleyball players who have just swarmed in. One blond head looks familiar. "Minako-chan!" "Huh?" She pops up from behind a locker door and sees us. "Hi!" she chirps, not missing a beat. "What's up?" "The track coach decided I was trying out," I tell her, not quite able to keep the sour edge out of my voice. I continue to look for running shoes, though I can't really imagine I'm going to find any lying around. Haruka's feet aren't much bigger than mine, but there is a difference. "What size are your feet, Mina-chan?" "Seven, why?" Close enough. "Do you have a pair of sneakers I can borrow?" "Well, there're these." She tugs off the shoes she's wearing and eyes them from a distance, then from close up, and finally gives up and sniffs them. "They're not too bad." I chuckle in spite of myself as she offers them to me, and accept with a smile. They fit well enough. I tie my hair back and glower at my reflection in the one mirror. "Let's get this over with." Minako tags along as we go, happy enough in her volleyball clothes and school shoes. My books stay behind in the locker, but I keep my violin tucked firmly under one arm. By the time we get back to the track area Tezuka is putting the other girls through their paces. She pays no attention to us as we wait. I sigh inaudibly and wonder what I should do when this is over; if Haruka is doing track, I'd like to have something to occupy my time instead of waiting around or going home without her. Joining the music club seems like the obvious thing, but the idea makes me a little uncomfortable. The odds are very good that I'll far outclass most of the students there, and I don't want to embarrass anyone, or give them ideas about getting me back. I've dealt with too many jealous people. Maybe I _will_ join the swimming team after all. It never occurs to me that I might join track. I'm reasonably sure that I won't make too much of a fool of myself, but that's all. I don't really need the extra exercise since swimming, weight lifting, and some dancing are part of my normal routine. Setsuna had both Haruka and I in dance lessons by the time we were ten and twelve respectively; it wasn't until years later that we came to appreciate the edge it gives us when we fight. By the time she was through with us, we'd both been trained practically to death; our bodies seem to have incredible muscle memory, so that for the most part we only need to study something physical for a year or two before it's part of us forever. I haven't been to a martial arts class more than once a month or so for three years now, but my body has never failed to respond as if I'm still training three hours a day when I call on the skills. "Kaioh! Now, if you please!" Tezuka's impatient voice bursts into my awareness. I know I wasn't devoting my full attention to the track, but I also know this is the first time she's addressed me. I don't let anything in my face or body betray the faint start of surprise I felt. "Yes, sensei." Haruka comes with me to the starting line, silently announcing that she'll be the one to run with me. "No holding back, Tenoh," is all Tezuka says. My partner glances at her, expressionless, and then meets my eyes. We share a moment of wry amusement. We have trained together for almost five years now, and we have _never_ held back. We hate hurting each other, but we've always known that it's better to get some bruises learning to dodge from each other than it would be to get killed when we can't evade a fatal blow. I know Haruka's body so well as much because I've sparred with her and covered her back as because she's my lover. I wonder if our bodies will work in tandem the way they do when we do almost anything transformed, the way they do when we do something we're equally good at. I wonder if Tezuka will notice. I don't hear Tezuka tell us to start, but I move automatically when Haruka surges forward. I've never trained as a runner, so my form isn't as good as hers, but she doesn't immediately leave me behind. I feel myself starting to breathe a little bit raggedly sooner than I'd expected; Haruka glances quickly back at me, sensing it, and suddenly I feel my breathing change without me telling it to. Sometimes it almost frightens me that we are so inextricably linked that she can simply reach out with her mind and show my body by example what it's doing wrong. I spend a heartbeat memorizing the breathing pattern so I'll have it if I need it again, and realize that it's something I do automatically when I'm transformed. We're over halfway done, and Haruka is pulling ahead of me, but not by as much as I expected. As we finish, she's still close enough that if I'd reached as hard and as far as I could, I could brush her back with my fingertips. I am breathing a _lot_ harder than she is, but I'm not falling down from exhaustion. She's breathing hard too as we walk back, but I suspect that she's exaggerating it a bit for Tezuka's benefit. She wasn't running all-out, but she wasn't being easy on me either. "Tenoh!" Tezuka calls out as we reach her. She looks a little bit irritated. Haruka looks at her. "When I tell you not to hold back, I mean it. Do a full lap, top speed." Haruka's eyes widen slightly and I see her respect for the coach go up a notch for noticing her lapse. She murmurs an apology and starts running again, this time cutting loose completely. Tezuka makes an exasperated sound. "Tell me, Kaioh, is she always like this?" "Usually, yes. But if you win her respect she'll do her best to please you, for the most part." "For the _most_ part?" Minako wanders over and bows gracefully to Tezuka, introducing herself. "Aino Minako, 10th grade." She straightens and produces her best respectful look. She's not terribly good at it, because she always has that mischievous glimmer hiding in her eyes, but she does try. She looks across the track at Haruka's nearly-in-flight form and then back to us. "If I may, sensei . . . the only person Haruka- san always does her best to please is Michiru-san." She blushes a little and looks at me before she opens her mouth again to continue. Tezuka interrupts her. "What exactly do you two mean, Kaioh, when you say 'partner'?" She looks from me to Haruka, who has almost finished the lap. I blink and quickly collect my thoughts. "Exactly that, Tezuka- sensei. We are partners in all respects." "All?" she repeats, and her meaning is clear, though she's being polite about it. "All," I confirm evenly. "So Tenoh Haruka has a girlfriend, does she?" She looks thoughtful, but not in an unkind way. "I suppose you could say that . . . but it doesn't begin to cover it. 'Partner' really is the best word." "You would be the one to know," she replies, shrugging in a way that I take to mean that she's done with that topic. "You're a good runner, Kaioh." "Thank you," I say blandly, not sure what she's going to do next. Minako flicks a glance at me, curious. I realize I'm broadcasting some sort of feeling to her; Haruka looks a bit strangely at me as she materializes beside us. I damp down the ambiguous emotion. Moments of emotional contact between the group of us are so erratic and fleeting that it's impossible to prepare for them. I find myself wondering if they're going to fade or get stronger as time passes; Haruka and I can sometimes touch minds deliberately, but it doesn't happen as often as we'd like. This is made more bearable by the fact that it usually happens when we need it most. "Since you said you were a swimmer, not a runner, I'm going to assume that you're even better in the water." Tezuka looks a little bit grudging. "I'd like to have you on this team, but I already have some pretty good runners here, and I'm not going to pretend that Tenoh isn't the fastest thing I've seen in years, maybe ever. This team's not in trouble. But if you have any interest at all, I think it could be a great help to the swim team if you joined them." "You keep saying 'this team', sensei," Minako notices curiously. "I thought coaches tended to be more possessive. My volleyball coach certainly is." Tezuka looks at the three of us. "I suppose that might have something to do with the fact that I coach swimming as well as track, with an assistant for each. I alternate days with the two teams." I notice that she's looking expectantly at me again. "Can I show you the pool, Kaioh?" ------- By sundown I feel absolutely exhausted. I'd forgotten how much work public schools send home at night, and after a day of classes and running and swimming I really didn't feel up to it. Setsuna helped Hotaru with her homework (not that our daughter needs more than the occasional prompt) and took care of supper, brushing away our feeble protests that we should be helping. We were careful to make time to talk to Hotaru about her day, and she enthused about her new art project and the new friends Chibiusa introduced her to. Then she looked at us and asked if we were going to be okay. She still seemed a little worried about us when she went to bed to leave us to our homework, and gave us extra- long hugs, but we reassured her that it will get better once we get into the swing of things. I know that it's true, but it doesn't keep me from feeling overwhelmed as I put my books away and take out my violin, nestling it carefully under my chin. I inhale deeply, close my eyes, and begin to play. Time melts away into the music; I stop being aware of what I'm playing. Nothing in particular, I think, just music, pulsating around me, erasing the weight of the day. I let my fingers instinctively pick out variations of pieces I like, things I've studied or learned by just listening, scraps of music I've composed since I last played that I haven't had a chance to commit to paper. I play, and I play, and I play. It feels marvelous. Very gradually, the sound of Haruka playing with me enters my consciousness. It's funny, I never think 'the sound of a piano' when I hear her; her music is as intimately familiar, as unmistakable to me as my own. I keep my eyes closed and continue to let the music spill unchecked from my hands and the strings. Sometimes Haruka accompanies me, even on things that I'm creating on the spot, snatches of melody that should not be so easy for anyone to follow. I wonder if she is listening to the music as it plays in my head, and following my lead from there. Other times I don't hear her, though I listen, and I know she's just sitting listening to me. I reach out with my thoughts, unfocused as they are, and find her so close that her presence overwhelms me with quiet love for her. I let my hands sing about it, and I feel that she understands; she answers in the same way. The music is swirling around us, insistent, pulling at us, pulling us closer together. And then one of those magical moments comes when I _know_ that I've felt her mind, her spirit, touch mine. For an instant, I feel the piano keys depressing under my fingers as they are under hers, and I feel her breath and heartbeat from inside instead of secondhand as I usually do. We aren't physically touching or speaking, but our instruments are communing in a more pure way than our voices could . . . my only awareness of my own body is that of the shudder that wracks me as something deeper than our minds or bodies touch; dare I imagine that it is our very souls entwining? Whatever it is or whatever I may call it, my body doesn't know any way to deal with the feeling of it except to tremble convulsively. Somehow the music continues unbroken while I feel her inside me, more part of me than she can ever be when we touch physically, her spirit burning golden against mine. It all happens so fast; I don't know how long it lasts, but it can't be more than a minute or two before it passes and leaves us shaking. Musician's instinct forbids me to simply stop playing, so I continue until the melody naturally ends and let it fade away. Then I manage to stumble to the piano bench and sit beside my partner, setting my violin down. The first sound I hear is a soft 'click'; we both look around in foggy confusion and see Setsuna turning off the recording equipment I routinely use to tape my practice, so that I can listen to it later and analyze my technique. We stare at her blankly, and she smiles in that odd, almost vacant way she sometimes has. "One hour twelve minutes," she says. I begin to realize how dark it is; I'd started playing when there were still colors in the sky, and now the moon is rising. The only light is from the open door behind Setsuna. "I think you might want to keep this tape, and listen to it in a few days . . . I think you might want to release it. It's wonderful." She pauses and doesn't quite meet our eyes as we stare at her, somewhat stupidly, I think. Neither of us has the mental energy to completely process what she's saying. "Especially the last bit." "How long . . ?" Haruka asks. Her voice is rough, and she doesn't seem able to elaborate. Setsuna looks at us directly. "Maybe five minutes." She pales, and then flushes a little, and pales again. "I'm not completely sure." No matter how tired we are, that still sounds odd. She _is_ the guardian of time, after all. I think she senses our bewilderment, because she shakes her head a little and reiterates softly "I really don't know." She comes closer but makes no attempt to touch either of us, perhaps intuitively knowing that we would shy away. I feel raw and torn, as if Haruka and I have always been as close as we just were, as if this were the first moment I have ever had to endure without her. She is sitting only inches away from me, and I feel almost unbearably separate from her. Setsuna seems to understand, as she beckons for us to get up, to climb the stairs to our room and bed. She slips easily back into the mothering role she filled for us for those last years of our childhood. For the first time in many years, I do not carefully polish my violin and put it away. Somehow I know Setsuna will take the time to do it. I'll have to thank her tomorrow. ------- "So that," Haruka whispers to me some time later, "was our first day of school." I turn my head to look at her, almost surprised; I'd almost forgotten school so soon. That slight movement makes me feel drained again. She snuggles closer to me and buries her face against my neck as she does when she feels playful or insecure. I know it's the latter, since we're both far too tired to feel playful. All the fantasy books I've read that talk about minds touching left me with the impression that once such contact was over people would surely want, desperately need, to have sex to try to recreate the emotional joining. That's just not the case. Even if we had the energy to move, the ache of the separation is too deep to be taken away by something physical. For a day or so it will seem too shallow until the memory of what just happened fades a little. I touch her soft blond hair gently and hold onto her as tightly as I can. The simple warmth of her body curled up against mine is all I want, all the peace I need to lull me to sleep. Last night's cares seem so far away. I feel more confident about this academic year than I did; I suspect that parts of it might even be fun. Tezuka-sensei, for one, seems as if she's really quite nice underneath the gruff exterior. Tomorrow I'll meet the rest of the swimming team . . . I have to remember to bring a bathing suit . . . and at least I did manage to get my homework done . . . My mind drifts off to think of more mundane things. I guess it's a kind of self-protection as much as anything else. Sailor Neptune might be able to deal with the wonderful and scary thing that happened to us tonight, but she's lunar, however faint her memory of the moon may be. Tonight I'm just Kaioh Michiru, and I'm human, born on this world with its living oceans. I feel Haruka drifting away into sleep, and I feel myself sigh with something like contentment as I let myself join her. END ------ Comments about the construction of the story: About continuity: for the most part this is based on the anime storyline; I did add a few touches of what I know from the manga translations I've read, but I haven't actually seen the manga for most of the series. Apparently the story matches the manga continuity better than I'd expected. I've tried to use as few actual Japanese words as possible, because although the characters are 'speaking' Japanese, the story is still in English and I decided to keep it as consistent as possible. Hence, '10th District' instead of 'Juuban District', for example. I realize that sometimes Michiru refers to other characters in different ways: Makoto/Mako-chan, Minako-chan/Mina-chan, and so on. If this were a third-person fic, I would've tried harder to avoid this, but we all think of people in different ways at different times, and I doubt Michiru is an exception. So I just wrote down how she thought of the person at that moment, whether she used an honorific or nickname or not. Michiru says that her classmates in music fail to recognize her; there are two possible reasons for this. One is that she simply may not have noticed them reacting (this is possible, even though Michiru is known to be very observant). The other is that, while she is extremely well-known to professional musicians and classical music lovers, this _is_ only a high school music theory class. I don't know how it works in the Japanese school system, so this may be way off-base, but in most of the classes I've taken at that level a lot of the students are just there to get an easy credit and don't necessarily know that sort of thing. And if they do, well, who expects a legend to show up in their class? That's my main reasoning; if it's off-base, go with the first explanation and assume she didn't notice. About grammar . . . there're a couple of places where it could have been made 'more correct' but I left them alone. This is another allowance I made because of the first-person writing. Michiru is extremely well-educated, and brilliant, and so on, but she's not perfect. The only character I'd try to write using _absolutely perfect_ grammar and sentence structure and so on is Ami, and I'd probably feel stilted doing so. (This doesn't mean I left in things that are completely wrong, BTW. Just a couple of phrasings that could technically have been, well, more correct.) There is an apparent age difference given for Haruka and Michiru ("when we were ten and twelve respectively"). This does _not_ mean that they are different ages; it means that Setsuna put Haruka in dance class when H was ten years old, but did the same for Michiru two years later when both girls were twelve years old.