A/N: XD Talk about night-forming ideas. I actually grabbed a plain notepad and stuffed this all down, and before I knew it, eleven at night rolled around and I about fell asleep sitting up. *groan* ^^ I can kinda blame this on my sore bottom, but if it's a new take, well, pwease enjoy! XD Oh, and this whole thing was started about a year ago, in the Philippines, and only the first paragraph. *grin* The rest was finished today, and I'm assuming my future self'll at least TRY to make something of this. XD
DISCLAIMER: Naoko Takeuchi, you've put a lot of amazing genius thought into your work of Sailor Moon and I'm gonna try to make something even a less-than-point-decimal goodness of that! XD
You: Are My Princess
"I love you, Hime-chan. Sweet dreams, angel."
I smiled faintly as my daughter closed those dark purple eyes of hers, her cute face snuggling deeper into her oversized black sleeping bag. Nine o'clock came by fast these days, I thought, reaching for the bedside lamp and giving it two taps that left my Hime-chan's room in darkness.
So did sleep.
When I closed my own eyes, I could tell I was going to have a dreamless night. Not that that was a bad thing. There had been times when nightmares of a past unknown had haunted me and I didn't know what to do. But now that Hime-chan had come into my life. . .
I was left in a dreamless void of darkness, and I welcomed it fully.
Tomorrow was another day, after all. . .
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Ten years later with an older Setsuna and fourteen year old Hotaru. . .
"Morning, Hime-chan."
Setsuna Meioh smiled at the uncharacteristic grumble of her daughter. It seemed to be only yesterday that her little girl was tucked in, read stories, cuddled when watching sob movies and changed of diapers. Kids really did grow up fast, the long-haired woman mused, her ruby-red lips tilting upwards into a tight grin.
Now her little Princess took to bed in dark pajamas, rifled through the erotic ways and words of the old-language texts, took to being embarrassed at even the most laughable of cry scenes, and had to flusteredly deal with her own wet underwear. Glancing towards their well-worn kitchen table of dark oak wood, Setsuna took note of the interested stance a thirteen year old Hotaru had who was flicking at bits and pieces of her cereal.
Silence, but they were comfortable with silence.
"Setsuna-mama?"
"Hmm?"
"Could we go to a candy store?"
For a second the fashion designer of many artists' chosen could only blink in surprise. It was a good surprise, and though Setsuna knew she could very well jeopardize this newfound free time to spend with her daughter, the dark-haired woman HAD to know.
While time had been good to her over the years in waiting people out, her Hime-chan had picked up the fine points of patience from her. Trying to be tactful but appear the right amount of curious, she asked her reasons, turning back to prepare Hotaru's lunch. After her whole life of being too smart for her own good, Hotaru decided herself she would face the horrors of society and their ill-mannered ways.
Setsuna had agreed, amused, and supported her daughter in everything she did. School had been going fine, and at two weeks in her dark-haired daughter had fallen into the usual pattern of replying "Was okay" to her daily questions of "How was school?".
Dark hair, deep-set purple eyes, and a dark wardrobe accentuated Hotaru's love for her need to be left alone when needed, supervised when asked, and actually detached enough to ascend into the 'cool' stage of that so-called 'ill-mannered' society. And so Hotaru told her the reason for the visit to the candy store, Setsuna knowingly smiled, recalling their split dirty laundry and a curious white sun-flop hat.
"I thought if you had any free time we'd spend it just. . . going out to a candy shop. There's this pink-haired brat that's been bugging me, but. . . she's not so bad, once you get to know her. I know you like some occasional treats, and she. . . she shares my love for cotton candy."
Setsuna almost laughed.
Her daughter's dark hair usually brought out the beautiful contrast of her pure-white skin, but today that skin was darkened in a blushing whiplash of serious pink.
"Sure, Hime-chan. Since it's Friday we can go after school or tomorrow. My work's been slow enough this week on really last-minute worshippers of my designed clothing, so. . . anything for my Princess."
She was rewarded with a relieved, happy smile, and Setsuna walked over and placed a kiss to the top of that dark head. Giving her daughter a quick squeeze, she plopped down the bento she'd made and walked out of the kitche. Work was something she'd never been late to, but if her daughter asked her for it to skip to a candy shop, she'd gladly would.
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"Hotaru, I'm sorry, but could it wait until tomorrow? Apparently my assistant forgot to tell me a last-minute rush had come up for this wedding, and-"
"Apparently. Don't worry about it- work is what keeps food on the table and if I were older, I'd help. Y'know what they say, learn from the best."
Hotaru forced a smile as her mother reached down and hugged her, kissing her quickly on top of the head. It was a ritual they'd always share, and Hotaru was letting herself open enough that no other teen could to their parents. Inhaling the warm familiar scent of vanilla and curious spice, Hotaru let her mom go and watched the long dark green-brown hair swirl around clickety-clat high heels as Setsuna grabbed her keys and rushed out the door.
It was another ritual of theirs- to always say goodbye in person, no matter the urgency.
Setsuna wasn't her 'real' mom- her real mom had died in childbirth and her dad, amazingly successful scientist that he was, had the brains to give up his only child up to his assistant's distant cousin related by marriage, Setsuna.
While Hotaru knew the tall woman didn't pride her marriage relation to a certain red-head assistant, Hotaru knew Setsuna thanked whatever gods above who blessed that red-head with familiarity to those marriage relations. Setsuna Meioh, in every sense, WAS her real mom.
And Hotaru loved her for it.
But work can't exactly wait.
And it's not like I'm stuck with nothing to do.
It was true.
Setsuna did have to work, but with their daily income topping off an astounding seventy thousand per month plus tips, Hotaru was sure her mom could quit work and live off the well-hoarded money in the bank all the rest of their lives with ease. Since they owned the two-story house right off the banks near a quiet but well-rounded library, and further down, the bustling city in close walking distance, the two were never in need of entertainment for themselves.
Not to mention the home they lived in- it had been fourteen years, since she'd been born, in fact, that she'd lived in this house, but every year Setsuna and Hotaru would go around the house and Setsuna would show and tell her things about it.
Their home was full of secrets, but it was secrets that were exciting to discover.
Securing the door, Hotaru walked upstairs to her room and paused to look at the calm sky-blue paint. She loved this part of her room, the feeling where you opened the door and the true colors faded into calming clouds that whirled activity and melted into a stormy dark night with the stars and clouds peeking out, all colored in marvelous paint on the wall.
"Michiru-mama."
The thought of her other mother that was now holding her talent high in display the three countries over on the other side of the world brought a smile to her face. Most petite among them, Michiru Kaioh wielded the violin and chello like a dreamer's perfect paradise, complete musical talent well-rounded and topped off with a loving touch and an elegant style to those aqua-marine looks.
Like the ocean, so vast and wide and deep, but always there, in good days and bad, receding and rushing the shore, giving as much joy as the ones who watch and listen.
Flopping onto her bed, Hotaru turned on her favorite lava lamp and watched a lump form at the bottom of the crystal globe, rising with its glorious color and expanding to touch tips with the top of the lid.
"Haruka-papa."
A giggle escaped her as the dark-haired girl remembered her 'father figure' poking a certain lava lamp and having it explode in the racer's hands. Windy eyes had widened in comical shock and blond had used her legendary agility moves to grab a garbage bag and stomp on top of the whole thing like a bird waiting, tensed, on top of its nest, wondering if the tree in the hurricane was going to stand the all-consuming power.
And that had been on their living room rug.
After a moment, though, Hotaru remembered her Haruka-papa starting to shake, with giggles, then all-out belly laughter and the blond had grabbed her and they wrestled all over the living room floor, not caring and just plain enjoying the hilarity of her papa's mistake.
Rolling onto her stomach, dark eyes looked out her lone window as a small figure darted out from thin-trunked tree to thin-trunked tree. It was a swirl of color, mainly pink, but Hotaru was now curious as a taller figure dashed behind the other, motioning frantically its idea of being bad even as the red and black blue zipped after the pink form, hiding her aura pretty well in the process.
Hotaru's attention was claimed by another figure walking up the street, this one she easily recognized.
Minako Aino, a 'love matchmaker' blonde who was Setsuna's assistant and best friend, not including Michiru-mama and Haruka-papa.
Wondering at why her mom's assistant was here, Hotaru kept on looking until Minako had met the large shackled gate at the front, black in color and magnificent in design. The usual ding-dong button was pressed and the visitor's voice filled the room, asking for permission to come in and an explanation about why she was here.
Headed downstairs to buzz her in, Hotaru was a bit confused when there was a shriek, then a muffled laugh, followed by a 'thud' and another voice angrily shouting something incomprehensible. When Minako shouted back a name, the blonde's voice overly affectionate, Hotaru figured the assistant knew who she was talking to and opened the door.
What met her eyes was a surprise.
"Taru-chaaaaaaan!"
". . . ChibiUsa?"
A/N: The title of this fic'll make sense in the future. *grin* And if you notice Hotaru's age, well, she's in the ((supposedly)) rebellious stage. I now believe the 'supposedly' rebellious stage. I'm a pretty easy kid to handle, but I had MAJOR mood swings, and it, well, guess it was, probably 'cause of the blasted hormones. ^^ Hope ya enjoyed, take care, ja! XD