Disclaimers

Category: Sailor Moon
Pairing: Michiru/Haruka
Copyright: "Sailor Moon" is copyrighted by DiC, Toei, Kodansha, and Naoko Takeuchi. The characters of Sailor Moon are used here without permission - for entertainment, not for profit.
The story and all its original characters are property of the author.
Fiction Rating: T
Author's Note: -chan, -kun, -san, -sensei are titles.

San - neutral, used in most situations
Kun - informal, used for boys and men younger than oneself
Chan - informal, used for young children and very close friends or family members
Sensei - used for teachers, doctors, people with a higher education

Author's E-Mail: kinkaze @ hotmail.com

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Mail

by Kin-Kaze

PART 2

"Catch ya later, Tenoh."

"Catch me? Unless you guys have been doing serious overtime, I don't know whether to take that as a threat or a joke!"

"Yeah well, you never know what might wear you out…" His gaze shifted slimily over Akiko's body. Had I not the trust in her bearing, and the knowledge that she would no doubt be meeting his gaze with more challenge than he could face, I would have removed the mechanic's front teeth with my fist. Slightly deflated, he skulked away unceremoniously, my eyes burning into his back.

"I like it here." Her voice was mellow as dark wine.

"Yeah? I didn't know if it would be your kind of thing…?"

"I like the vibe. Very macho. I want these car people at my next launch. Mix it up a little. You might ask them for me?"

"Uh, I really don't think fashion is high on their agenda…"

"It's a lingerie promotion, Haruka. Ask a few of your buddies and I'll give you a personal preview tonight."

"Be right back. I think I should speak with Sato."

I weaved through gatherings towards the small group around the driver Takuma Sato, laughing in his distinctive way at some story or another. Drawing closer, his eyes alit on me.

"Hey, Tenoh! Meet some of my friends here, they all want to bust your balls for that start in Monaco!"

"Hey Sato." I was drawn into the circle. Many of the 'friends' didn't appear to be the sort who would have ever watched a race. I didn't really want a full introduction session, I wanted to invite him to the goddam show, hopefully with a suitably swarthy crew, thus doing most of the work for me, and getting the hell out of there.

"This is Ryuichi…" The names drifted through my head in a cloud of irrelevance, I tried to match their enthusiastic faces with a winning smile… "And I'm sure you know…" My heart stopped. My hand closed, still over the proffered fingers.

"Michiru."

"Yes, what did happen with that start in Monaco?"

"What are you…?" I looked accusingly at Sato, who was oblivious and already engaged in another discussion. "Excuse us a minute." I stepped away from the conglomerate, knowing that she would follow.

This was unreal. The specter of my past materialized at such a trivial event? My mind was unsteady, breathing shallow.

"How are you?" What else was there to say? "I, uh, we still have some of your mail forwarded to our address. You might want to notify some…" I trailed off. What was I saying? Three years on and more breathless than ever.

"Fine thank you. And you? Still with 'style in the extreme,' I see?" I was almost certain she wasn't referring to my jacket. Regardless, it inflamed my temper, nervous energy spiking to anger. Who was she to question who I was with? Was she just here to taunt me? It was her who left me.

"Kaori wasn't entertaining enough for you then?"

"I'm sorry, do I know what you're talking about? It's been a while, but I wouldn't have thought you lost your mind in only a few years!"

"Right. I guess she doesn't even factor prominently onto the list of women to pass through your mind, or bed." That was a sore point.

I held my breath for a second. It wouldn't pay to blow up on an occasion like this. There'd be media here faster than the shutter on an SLR camera.

"Michiru. You left. I stayed. I don't think Kaori, Akiko… or Monaco, for that matter, is any of your business. If you want your junk mail, you can pick it up from my house. I'm sure you remember the address."

I strode purposefully in Akiko's direction. I needed to leave.

"Will they come then?"

"I'll call them tomorrow." I was stalking towards the exit. "Look, I've got a bit of a headache. Unless you want to stay, I can drop you home."

"Alright" I paused, she wasn't so passive unless she knew not to push. "Who's the girl in the blue dress?"

"No one." No one anymore. No one I would see again. If it was the Michiru I knew, she would be wiser than to pick through her useless assortment of mail. And I knew her so well.

x

After Hotaru left it was only a matter of time. She increasingly kept to herself, and I couldn't bring myself to challenge her on it. I wasn't there when she wanted me to be man-enough. She didn't want me then, and I couldn't face it. I preferred to stay working late, spend time with Setsuna, or the guys from the track. Anything rather than see the outward look of repulsion, of utter disappointment, not from her. Not in those blue eyes. I began sleeping on the couch. Well, sleeping isn't the best word for it. I kept to a kind of solitary insomnia, all the time too cowardly to talk to her. I felt sick, exhausted, constantly on the verge of breaking down at the sight of my alien reflection. And finally I was exhausted enough to demand something from her. Just an explanation.

"I would walk on glass for you, Haruka." It's what she said.

"Since before I met you, I would've done that." Her voice was flat, eerily calm. It jolted me, certainly not the outburst I had expected. "But you couldn't overcome some extended identity issue to hold our family together."

"It's not my family to hold together. Can't you see that?"

"Listen to you. It's still the same." The tone was almost patronizing, her head shaking. "Who was up every second night when the baby monitor went off? Who took off the afternoon and was there to collect her from school in an obnoxious sports car, just as an example to her school friends? Who dropped everything to take her to the doctor whenever…whenever the slightest cold arose?" Her voice broke; she choked words through her tears. "She's our daughter. She's our daughter and you wouldn't even fight for her…because you could never believe it, that you could be that parent. I hope you see now. Now that it's too late."

I couldn't argue my case. There was no arguing with what she felt. She was destroyed, and all I had done was stand by and watch, no longer were we in the same place. Circumstance had finally triumphed to divide us. But because I could never be sure it was circumstance, because I knew it wasn't, I couldn't forgive myself.

One morning I woke up on the couch again. I had purposefully stayed out late talking nonsense with some of the pit crew. Drinking too much, pretending we weren't miserable bastards, that engines made the world go round. If only. She would've cried herself to sleep again. Hopeless, daughterless, no one to catch the shards of her broken heart. That morning when I woke, the sunlight pierced my eyelids and shot through my aching skull, the sound of traffic seemed louder. The door was open. But before all then, in some way, I already knew. She was gone. The void of her closet confirmation. Still I checked on everything, as though mentally tallying - if enough that is hers is still here, she hasn't really left at all. Numbly I stumbled through every room. The door still open, cars still screaming, and I, still crumpled from sleep. Then I went to the music studio. Every corner was inspected, if I could only find it…but no. She had taken the violin. She really was gone.

Apparently Setsuna found me sitting at the music stool, shaking, staring at the black and white keys. When she asked how long I had been there I would only ask, "But what should we do with the piano?" Because, in my mind, we didn't need it anymore.

x

"Have a good night, speed racer?" Setsuna used the term Hotaru had coined after watching one too many Saturday morning cartoons.

"Ha…it was…shorter than I expected…" I didn't feel like explaining that early in the morning. Setsuna sympathetically offered a cup of black coffee.

"Did Aki-chan not stay over?" Her voice was almost songful. Aki-chan? When did she become Aki-chan?

"Why are you in such a good mood?"

"How's the launch preparation coming?"

"As well as can be expected, some of the make up artists are having a tiff but…What's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're grinning."

"So?"

"You're too old to grin."

"Haruka, you really must work on your rapport with women. Now I'm off, I have a few errands. You'll be in today?"

"Ye-es…?"

"Good."

"Have a good day then." Maniac. I was left to stare into the depths of my mug. It's got to be a guy. Hopefully someone interesting if he's going to be spending a lot of time here. Gods. That would be weird. Being the unpartnered one. But I wasn't. I wonder if it's time to consider living with Akiko? It doesn't seem like the right time, but I've always been criticized for being a commitment-phobe. I don't want to mess this up.

The door. Must be her. Needing someone to run random errands so that the night runs smoothly.

"Hey babe, it's open."

"Thanks." Wha- damn! Why am I never ready for these encounters and what the hell is she doing here?

"I'm sorry about last night. It wasn't the right time or place. I honestly didn't know you would be there…and I had had enough to drink to loosen my tongue."

"I…"

"Perhaps we can start over?" Such words. Of course she didn't mean them how I wanted her to mean them, so the sting was only brief. But oh, what I wouldn't have done if she meant it…

"Yeah, fine." Nonchalance. Good. "You want a coffee?"

"Thank you." She sat in the same seat she used to take. We really should consider redecorating.

"Still milk, no sugar?"

"You should know how I like it."

"Right." She was smiling. Such a tease.

"Some problem with the service, madam?" I made a point of bowing as the saucer met the table.

"Not at all." She was calm as ever, but still somehow unpredictably mischievous. "I quite forgot how cute you looked in your summer pajamas…?" I looked down dismally at the cotton vest and boxer shorts. No doubt my hair was performing its favorite trick of standing at right angles to my head, prompting me to hurriedly run my hand through it and push down the fringe.

"Hey, if you're going to turn up so early, you can't expect much of me."

"You didn't seem to mind a guest…babe?" Her eyes practically sparkled. This wasn't good. She was definitely one up on the mocking stakes, and I hadn't the cognitive function to catch up.

"Uh huh. Well, obviously I was expecting someone less reserved than you."

"I see." She sipped her coffee slowly. "You know I miss your breakfasts?"

x

It could be done. Of course it could be done. I was young, strong, intelligent…I could do anything brilliantly, if I wanted to. Anyway…it seemed the polite thing to do the morning after you first bring a woman to your apartment. It was only breakfast, and I could make it.

Determinedly I searched out and seized two eggs, narrowing my eyes, not to be out done by that trick, I did the floating test to make sure they weren't bad. Both ellipses bobbing obediently down through the side of the glass elicited a silent note of triumph in my brain. Still no sound from the bedroom. Excellent. She must not be used to long nights. Excellent. Boiling water met with ground coffee forming a richly aromatic soup within glass confines. A convenient frying pan was roped into the mission, thumped onto a hot plate with a convincing sizzle. Too easy.

Eggs. Right. I opened a window to allow ventilation. Such good kitchen practice, I mentally commended myself. Casually, I grasped one of the eggs from the now empty glass. Casually, it slipped from my grip, eluded a swipe from a desperate left hand, and succeeded in being hit over the sink, catching the window frame, breaking and falling through the opening. An elderly feminine scream emitted from the street below. Gingerly, I pulled the window closed, lowering the blinds.

One egg. She would only eat one egg anyway…probably. The pan was now hissing expectantly. With more care to avert any further eggs escaping…ha! Eggscapades…what wit…I took the remaining egg, beginning a gentle tapping to break the shell. This was a tough one. The gentle tapping slowly morphed, to assertive drumming then full on beating. Feeling particularly jaded at this point, on my palm I brought up for my inspection a heavily dented, but unrelenting shell and smiled. If I was an egg, I would be this one. Definitely. Bringing my fist above the frying pan, I crushed the remaining shell, allowing the sickly contents to dive and splatter over the hazy surface, creating a large puddle of broken white and yellow.

With dread fascination, I couldn't help but watch the heat-writhing substance, choosing to temporarily ignore the smell of warmed dishwashing liquid, indicating the convenient fry pan had not been so ready for use yet. Curiosity sated, the egg arrangement was promptly scraped into the trash and pan loudly flung into the sink, returning a final, resentful hiss. I looked to the coffee pot with the hope an infant places in its mother. Cradling its warmth, I skillfully balanced two mugs in the other hand and exited the still reeling kitchen.

"Haruka?" The voice made me start. Thankfully not enough to drop anything.

Standing in my lounge, rubbing her eyes sleepily, apparently content to wear only a loosely draped bed sheet, stood a girl of tousled aqua hair. And even that sight didn't cause sufficient mechanical failure to result in anything meeting the floor. Excellent.

"Hmm?"

Her look seemed more awake, slightly suspicious; she tightened the sheet over her shoulders.

"I heard a noise. What's going on?"

"Ah, neighbors kids…I think…threw something at an old woman…I should talk to the landlord really…"

"Yes. There's enough violence in this city without allowing for petty crime."

I advanced. Got the all clear, smile widening to meet that of this smaller woman.

"Anyway," I extended the hand of mugs, "sex and coffee. It's all you need right?"

Smiling slowly the mugs were taken with one hand, the coffee pot with the other, leaving no hand free to hold onto the bed sheet, which obediently slipped to the ground.

"Forget the coffee."

x

"Very funny." I felt more relaxed. "Anyway, if I may re-ask an earlier question, how are you getting on?"

"Well, fine really. I've got a short tour coming up with the symphony orchestra. There's a minor joint exhibition, it's actually part of an ex-Mugen Gakuen collective, would you believe? But it should all be finished up soon so I can focus on the engagement…" She smiled briefly, slightly lifting a hand bearing a modest ring.

"Oh, right, congratulations? A…musician perhaps?"

"Not quite." Right. So this man to unknowingly kick me in the stomach isn't the weedy pianist after all.

"Actually, Hiroshi's in accounting…"

"An accountant!?" I almost spat my coffee. "Gods!" She must be joking. "Thrills your heart does he?" It was a low blow, but I wasn't thinking, I just couldn't imagine it.

"At least he doesn't break it." Her look was piercing. No this again.

"I…what?" I was shaking my head; she couldn't seriously be blaming me for how I was. "I didn't leave you." My tone was warning. It wasn't fair to keep up that guilt trip.

"You may as well have. And I never left you. I left the house…" She could not be serious.

"I'm sorry, but I find it particularly hard to see the difference."

"Fine." Her mouth set in a small line. "You want clarification?… My world was collapsing around me. My daughter left faster than I could let her go. Every room of this house reminded me… " Her monologue faltered, eyes dropping then meeting mine hypnotically. "Some nights I really thought I heard her voice, Haruka." She paused to sip her coffee. Calm her nerves. "I left for the beach house, perhaps I should've left a note, but you didn't seem to be around enough to even notice. It was only going to be for a week… "

I can imagine her; standing at point the water met the sand, white toes edging across the sharp black rocks. A cotton-thick fog present to obscure the horizon, no boats in sight. And as though understanding, the tide, sympathetically gray in mourning, would rock inconsolably against her legs. An ocean of tears.

"Then on the last day, when I finally ventured out to a small convenience store, a particularly bored clerk tried to engage me in a conversation about one of the tabloid headlines… Toy boy racer romantically linked to up and coming model Kaori Hasu, at the time it seemed like a cruel joke, but then all the late nights made sense, and really, it was a blessing, I mean I could have come back that day and found you…"

Oh, no. Please say I wasn't hearing this. Oh Gods, no.

"I had no idea… No I wasn't seeing anyone. I had lost you long before you left, I knew you couldn't stand the sight of me… because… it wasn't fair of you to ask me to put Hotaru through a court case… "

"I was upset. I know that now."

"But I never even thought of anyone but you…when I was drunk, when I was with…Kaori, was it? With all those women…I wasn't doing it because I felt anything for them, I did it so I would stop feeling… I thought you were gone forever, because I was never enough… it's really not what you imagined."

"I didn't know that." Her voice was low, eyes set at a point beyond the window. What a waste. What an utter waste.

"But, everything happens for a reason, doesn't it? Otherwise I would never be this focused on my racing. You would never have met Hiroshi…"

"Nor you, Akiko."

"Right."

"Right."

What a waste. My head churned as the reality of it sunk in, tide of the past washing over to drown me again. Don't let me fall back to that place, not there. Because there was a time when I missed her like a drug. Her memory an unrelenting toxin in my veins, corrupting my thoughts so that alcohol became my medication. A counter poison to kill off the remnants of my recollection. No, this all didn't matter anymore. For my own sanity, this couldn't matter anymore.

"Perhaps we can be friends again?"

"Friends?" It sounded so ridiculous. "Sure, if you want." Friends? We had never been friends, not really.

"I'd like that."

***

Part 1 | Part 3