windswept.
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They never did let her get too close to the track. In the Tenoh household, Haruka was kept at arms' length from anything that she might become attached to; her parents had a sixth sense about such things, and knew how to use it. In Haruka's mind, parents were always kind, caring, and loving of their children, but it took fourteen years of deception for her to finally come to the realisation that what they had in mind for her was not a home filled with love.
Monthly, now, she'd been sneaking out of the one-story, moderately sized home in Minato-ku, heart pounding at the thought of feeling the power rushing through the oval-sized track. The kilometres-long track was freshly painted the month before she started her covert attendance, and the smell of that smooth, dark grey track infiltrated her nostrils and took grip of her heart like no other odour, no other scent her thus far small world could offer. Merely the adrenaline pounding her heart and heightening her senses was enough to drive her stir-crazy each droning day in that house, the nausea brought on by stepping over that threshold daily more apparent with each heady trip to the track in secret.
Saigo Kinomoto, head of the pit crew, took notice of her quite early into her endeavours, at first taking on a brusque attitude when dealing with her. His multiple warnings not to come back obviously had no effect, as he'd still notice her sneaking past the fence and ducking low into the stands to watch the test runs and practice races. So, reluctantly, he began letting her sit within the pit, the veritable pedestal of racing excellence, where the drivers and the cars would take their breaks, and where all of the racing magic happened. Her eyes ached from the rays of sunlight beating down the cars' very skin, squinting enough to still see the pit crew buffing away at the exteriors, changing the tires with swift precision, and aligning individual parts down to the pistons of the cars' very cores.
Coming back to present day, her hands, the very same hands possessing enough grace and clarity of sound to play the piano on swift fingers, gripped the perforated steering wheel with a death grip, heart thudding so hard against her ribcage that she thought it might burst. Eyes of shadowed teal narrowed down the straightaway as she took deep breaths. She'd been prepping herself mentally for this moment for months now, Saigo having taken it upon himself to properly teach her to drive and to race. While test and practice runs were one thing, an actual race was completely different, especially so with her identity concealed in the depths of her crash webbing.
As far as the public was concerned, Tenoh Haruka was a bright young, amateur, racing star just starting to spread his wings. Upon initially coming to the track, her sandy blonde hair held a wild air to it, the wind doing as it pleased with the chin-length, wispy locks. Haruka was always a bit of a tomboy, another trait in her that her parents tried, unsuccessfully, to squash out when she was in primary schooling. The change necessary to get her into races was not much of a sacrifice, causing her to lose her slight feminine demeanour in favour of radiating masculinity at every opportunity. This change included binding her growing chest, assuming a boy's haircut, and dressing in male clothing, to go in depth.
On the eve of her big moment, the moment to end all oppression and dissatisfaction in her life, Kenji and Jun Tenoh decided to comment on her new appearance.
'Tenoh Haruka, I demand to know what you've been doing with your free time. Lately, you seem to have become like a distant son!' Kenji stood by his enraged wife, directing a stern gaze in Haruka's direction, wordlessly pushing her into responding to her mother.
'Iie, you don't seem to understand that there's more to me than you thought you could wash away with your constant pestering, okaa-san. I don't know why you bothered making me wear those dresses; all they ever did was isolate me from my own family.' She refused to raise her voice, although teal eyes narrowed, displeased at the stance her mother was taking, carefully watching as both parents stood before the door to cut off any escape.
'No daughter of mine will prance about acting like she has no home schooling in etiquette, do you hear me!' Jun just about shrieked the last few words, anger and frustration evident in simply her posture. Haruka's head lowered momentarily, eyes squeezing shut against the knowledge of what she was about to tell her parents. With a breath and a new resolve as she looked up, she steeled her gaze and stood from the sofa she'd been resting on, arms resting at her sides to appear relatively calm.
'Then I suppose I was never really your daughter at all. If I have to, I'll go down that road and never look back. Over the past few months, I've learned that I don't need to rely on anyone else to acquire what I most want. That's freedom from your twisted views.' She looked from Jun to Kenji, then above their heads to the top of the door tactfully behind them. 'So if you'll excuse me, I have a race to practice for. Yes, I did say it,' and she looked back at the two of them, noting the colour of quite probably anger rising on her mother's cheeks, 'a race. I've been racing for months now, right under your noses.'
Jun's eyes widened before she turned to her husband, a hand on his shoulder to hold her wavering stance. Kenji didn't bother to look back at Haruka, head held rather high for a man who'd kept her starved of any emotional bonding whatsoever. She'd have to find a way to fend for herself, and being fourteen in a place just outside of Tokyo was a feat to accomplish, but Haruka believed in the things that she was capable of, and one of them stood dangling just above her reach, at least until tomorrow.
'Get out. You'll have one day this week to return for your things, and only the necessities, since we've bought everything in your damn room for you. Then don't you ever come back.' Jun's expression was stone cold, not a millimetre breaking from its rigid state. Haruka's own expression was schooled by seemingly the best, because as she headed past her once-beloved parents while shrugging on her jacket, then out the door, she didn't once look back.
Reminiscing, it seemed that what happened was a good step in an even better life. The grand prize today for the winner was enough for her to get an apartment and utilities for at least three months in the heart of Tokyo. A smirk born of true freedom crossed her lips, the chequered flag going down to signal the beginning of the race.
¨¨
The wind, in its ultimate, wild freedom, brushed past her cheek and whipped madly through her hair, but delicately stroked her closing eyelashes, their brush soft against her sweat-dampened skin. The first place trophy held loosely in her grip was yanked from her as Saigo rushed up to her and took her into his arms, offering a bear hug in congratulations for her, and his, victory. He had no clue that later on, away from the prying ears of the press, she would ask him to be a permanent member of her pit crew. The media was going mad with the numbers of today's race, sports casters predicting Tenoh Haruka as Japan's newest talented rookie to hit the circuit.
Flashbacks of the race ended just minutes ago embraced her mind, further pumping adrenaline through her system and causing her eyes to close in memory of the sideswipe barely sustained by her old car, the one given to her for temporary use, as her biggest competition passed roughly by her. In passing, he'd sneered over at her, thinking himself the big shot with his numerous wins backing him. Takashi Akio, the twenty-one-year-old stock car racer from Osaka. He had the wits of a rabid dog and the brawn of an overheated rhinoceros, his stocky form normally taking a slouched position and slaughtering it to shreds with the way his shoulders hunched. It gave Haruka great pride to be able to beat the son-of-a-bitch, and to put it lightly, her own ego received a bit of a boost from the fact that she'd won her very first professional race.
As she was soaked in champagne, the other top five drivers passed by the winner's circle and offered her a friendly handshake, congratulating her and tossing positive comments for her to readily absorb. Hence the beginning of her insatiable need for winning; she would learn hard lessons in a few weeks' time to leg go of pride, but for now, the glory of her win wrapped infectiously about her heart and flooded her very soul with happiness.
Finally prying herself from the adoring arms of the few fans she'd made today, Haruka went about collecting her lump sum prize money and caught a ride into Tokyo's heart via the bullet train, intending to put down payment on a high view apartment with large windows. The morning and evening sun always brought her comfort, even back in her family home, when she'd sit beneath it and soak in the golden-red light that so readily wiped her mind of all thought besides the freedom awaiting her.
¨¨
So she found herself, weeks later, with her minimal belongings and a new queen sized mattress, sitting along a windowsill, bathed in the dawning sun before the continuation of school. She'd immediately transferred from her old secondary to someplace called Juuban, to sit out the last few months before high school in relative peace. Being a good student played to her advantage, since the credits from her old school transferred over to Juuban and left her with little to do in terms of studying. The piano would have to be set aside until the next race, assuming she'd win that one, due to lowered funds.
Financial burden was hardly what bothered her these days. Ever since two nights before her first race, she'd been plagued at night by visions of silence and an overwhelming feeling of grief. At first she'd brushed it off as being some odd form of a nightmare, but the past four nights found her haunted by the same visions and feelings. A voice just beyond earshot teased her mind and ruffled her proverbial feathers at the scant familiarity of it. A voice without a face or a name. It was driving her mad, and she soon found that sleep would not claim her if she had any say about it.
Insomnia became her closest companion, second only to the sun and its warming light. Scratch that; the wind had always been her confidant, her partner in crime, and her secret lover when no one was around to tell her that she was loved. She never felt alone when the different elements of nature called out to her on a rainy day, or when the average run in the park turned up a notch when the breeze brushed by her with a teasing call to chase it. Almost like an imaginary friend, it took hold of her hand and led her through the depths of pain and regret that might plague her, and erased any future negativity with the thought that she'd have enough strength and confidence to see her life through.
A smile slowly spread across her lips, her head resting back against the glass momentarily before she got up and prepared for classes in just a few short hours. She'd made sure to end up on the track team so she'd have a lesser outlet for her winding down, for those days in between races and practices. She'd also made quite sure to fully disguise who she was and just what she was, if Haruka were to keep up the convincing façade of being a male driver.
¨¨
All through the day, various teachers and students droned on and on about this math problem and that social discord, this grammatical error and that economic transgression. The simple truth of school was that it was bullshit, through and through. Haruka's harsher outlook on continued education reflected just what she thought about simple life in general. The only thing that she found could keep her attention was racing, and even then, the wind was still restless and rebellious, as though there was something else out there that called to her attention. If put to the test, her life could be perfectly complete without school and without any desk job that these other people seemed intent upon getting. Her car and her talent on the track were all she needed to keep happy, because once on the track, the rest of the world faded away into nothingness her tires could easily squash like so many tiny insects.
It was when she went to her first track practice that her new coach, Boshra Ikuko, tested her, or Boshra-sempai, as the other track members called her. Boshra-sempai seemed to instinctively know just who Haruka was, although she never let on this information. Her dark eyed looks were enough to keep Haruka on her toes and determined to prove herself on the field just as well as on the track. Her smirks often kept Boshra-sempai's eyes narrowed and her jaw stern, possibly as a sort of warning that Haruka brushed aside. Until she started running, Boshra-sempai seemed sceptical of Haruka's five-foot eight, one hundred-twenty pound frame, cocking her head to the side and crossing her arms over her chest each time Haruka looked her way with a smirk.
'Tenoh-san! Over here, now!' The arrogance managed to appear brightly in Haruka's swiftly run one hundred-metre dash, the grin on her face enough to aggravate the coach into having Haruka do fifty push-ups in a two-minute time limit.
'Boshra-sempai,' Haruka breathed, putting on a show for the other track members' eyes curiously trained on her, 'I think I might be starting to get a bit tired. Would it be all right if I did fifty more to make certain?' All said with a hands-on-hips stance.
'Tenoh-san,' she bent Haruka low with her hand slapping her upside the head, whistle blowing to let the others know that practice was over, 'if you don't get a hold of your arrogance, you can be sure that I will. You have until next practice to shape up, or you're off the team.'
Haruka's brows furrowed, but she didn't say a word, to which Boshra-sempai continued, 'You're a damned good runner, but I don't need egotistical runners on my team. After next practice, we've got a meet. I expect you to drop that attitude, understand?' Haruka merely nodded, head down in respect.
'And Tenoh-san,' Haruka looked up with a question in her eyes, 'be sure to bind your chest better. The girls were starting to whisper.' Teal eyes widened in unabashed shock, her voice barely managing to get out, 'Y-you know? How?'
'I have my intuitions, Tenoh-san. I'm not that stupid.' With that she left, leaving Haruka dazed and speechless as she headed off to change. That night left her with plenty to think about, along with how to tone down her ego in order to stay on the team. Throughout the day, track had been the only thing school-related that managed to keep her attention, and the added bonus of Boshra-sempai as coach kept her going strong, finally finding challenge where she, initially, wrongly assumed there was none.
¨¨
Three days of the same classes followed, Haruka being no closer to paying attention than she was that first day. Today was the day of the track practice, then meet, and the wind had been rustling all morning, reverting to slamming against the large windows of her apartment to get her full attention. The usual nightmare of sorts caught her unawares that evening, when she was finally able to get to bed. The graphic nature of the crimson and black shadows passing over each shattered building remained all but burned onto her retinas while walking to school.
The whole day passed in a blur of crimson, that painfully familiar voice haunting her at every corner of the school, every opportunity it caught her off-guard; it almost seemed unnerving the way it knew to find her even in her waking moments, and the strength it seemed to gain that day, as though the owner might—the loud ring of the bell indicating end of school made her nearly jump out of her skin.
Nearly all of track practice had her morosely in check, Boshra-sempai even asking her if anything was wrong at one point before the meet. Taking a few minutes to run some warm-up laps, she became introverted in order to discover the problem. Through her peripheral vision, a flash of aquamarine caught her eye, then it was gone. She'd stopped dead in her tracks at the sight, eyes frantically roving the stands and everywhere else for another glimpse of that familiar colour. A lump had formed in her throat, eyes closing before she resumed her warm-up, all senses given over to the power and guidance of the strong breeze.
The warm-up took less time than even she expected, so once finished, she sat along the benches lining the outside lockers, elbows on her knees and posture so slouched that she could support her head with her hands. A cold shiver took over her spine suddenly, as though the breeze dropped several degrees in less than a few seconds, while she tried to contain it as much as possible so as not to alert anyone. Her head was down and a curse uttered before the shivering stopped. This was not how the meet was supposed to start out, it was supposed to be different! The wind didn't seem to agree, not when its wispy brush against her ear stirred Haruka's innermost senses; something about the wind's agitation was not right. As though it felt something of vast importance, something which it tried to pass on to her, but she just wasn't receptive enough to understand. The frustration built up until Boshra-sempai called her to the track, her turn to run the one hundred-metre dash up.
It felt like the longest walk she'd ever taken in her entire life, the world around her moving in such slow motion that she could see each individual person's lips slowly forming words, the runners' foreheads streaming with perspiration trickling slowly down to their cheeks, even the clouds moving so slowly she could practically see the individual wisps forming and breaking apart. Unnerving was an understatement.
Upon reaching the start line, she stretched and otherwise readied herself, attention drawn after a moment to a shorter, red headed girl with a tan body smiling at her.
'Tenoh Haruka. I've heard you're really good, but you won't beat me.' Her underlying smirk was easy to spot, and Haruka merely lifted a brow, turning back to her position and getting ready. The world went black and still, surrounding structures oozing crimson liquid—blood?—upon charred pavement. Those same structures shattered into multiple pieces before being swept away into some abyss billions of years into the disaster of civilisation.
Directly before her, a white light started pulsing, a figure appearing within it as it grew, as a butterfly emerges from its cocoon after so much time developing. The faceless voice finally had a face, that eerily familiar voice speaking desperately to her, 'Only you and I can stop the Silence. You have to help me!'
Haruka looked up to see her fully, the figure's aquamarine hair shimmering before the glowing light. She yelled out as loud as she could to be heard over the deathly silence, 'Who are you!' The figure merely whispered the next response, the only part of it Haruka could hear being, 'Sailor—' before the blackness dissolved back into the world as it was at the meet, her body standing up straight and her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, a headache suddenly coming on.
'On your marks,' shaking it off, she got back into position, crouched, 'set,' her body lifting itself, one leg behind to launch her, 'go!' and she was off, never once looking back at the others she left in her tracks. The red headed girl kept faithfully behind her, but she never had a chance against the wind. The restless wind was sweeping against her face, leading her to victory once again, whispering words of encouragement and destiny to be the fastest in her ear. Her confidant became her mentor and her coach; her eyes closed, trusting in the wind to guide her true, and only when she heard the shot of the gun and felt the line at the finish snap at her waist did her teal eyes open, focusing on the sun beating down against the lockers just in front of her.
Her track mates' cheers barely registered, and she completely bypassed any hugs from them or congratulations from Boshra-sempai, opting to retrieve her track jacket and pants.
Just as Haruka was finishing putting her jacket on, the red headed runner came up to her, calling out to her before introducing herself. 'My name is Elza Grey. You ran very well, but next time I'll win!' She smiled brightly at Haruka before stepping a bit to the side, a girl with her aquamarine head bowed slowly moving forward. 'I'd like to introduce you to Kaioh Michiru. She's a brilliant painter and musician. She wanted to meet you.'
Aquamarine hair. Kaioh Michiru. Sailor…Neptune! Everything froze before her, teal eyes taking in the girl as she lifted her head and spoke softly, in a honey-sweet voice, 'You hardly broke a sweat out there; you weren't trying your best. Can you hear the wind rustling?'
The world suddenly started moving again, everything but this girl passing by her in a blur of light and colour. Kaioh Michiru. Her ears were deafened by the rush of wind whistling past them with a restlessness altogether unknown to her, as though it was screaming at her of the present situation, the present danger her life could be in, her future, her everything.
Get a hold of yourself. 'You're a strange girl, what do you want from me?' Michiru's eyes lit up, a smile breaking the demure expression on her face, 'Would you pose for me?' delicately folded hands lifted, showing Haruka the sketchpad held tightly within their grasp.
Haruka's eyes narrowed with the wind's wild slam into her mind, the visions of crimson and black returning in flashes. 'Pass,' she'd turned, duffel bag in hand and head barely turning over her shoulder, 'I don't do that sort of thing.' Michiru's disappointed expression did not escape her vision, but she chose to run away from it, from the destiny that was so strongly attached to this beautiful girl. How could such beauty hold such poison? Hence the journey toward—away—from destiny begins, the wind mourning its temporary loss of the sea, its one in six billion; resolve strengthens as the breeze caresses the sea, spray and foam coming together to create a new sea breeze high above the shores, one in the same.