Disclaimer: All rights to making money off of SailorMoon belong to Naoko Takeuchi and those she licenses. I am merely borrowing the characters and using them like action figures. There will be jets and tanks with big explosions, too. And karate-chop action, batteries not included.
Chapter the First - "Invitation"
Haruka sat hunched over her desk, and touched the lapels of her uniform jacket, sliding her fingers down one side as she was wont to do when concentrating deeply. An unfamiliar medal stopped her from her usual routine enough to distract her from her thoughts. She gazed upside down at the small pin, which was navy and gold in color. What was this for? Her mind flickered over recent memories, finally touching down on an instance in the last ceremony she attended where she had been wreathed in carnations and something had been pinned to her chest. She couldn't quite remember why exactly she had been there, and definitely not what the medal was for. She would have to ask Minako. Looking down at her jacket, she decided that it might be prudent to ask for a complete list of what each medal was for, and what each color represented. It wouldn't do for her to disregard what others felt was important. And that crazy blonde woman no doubt had a list, or could even draw one up from her strangely compartmentalized mind that could remember such useless trivia and bend the public to her will but couldn't even recall the birthday of any of her closest friends.
Picking up a heavy pen from the massive desk in front of her, Haruka wrote down a note to herself on a writing pad that had impressive looking stationary designs. She frowned at herself for enjoying marring it with her careless handwriting.
Returning to her previous thoughts, she turned her eyes to the folder before her. Innocuous, there were no outer labels and barely any contents, only a paperclip revealing that something was attached inside. Haruka gazed inside at the small, card-sized envelope, its address prominently displayed. The sender address, though smaller, was still distinct with its child-like scrawl. She pulled the envelope from under the paperclip, being careful not to tear it or bend it out of shape. Picking up a heavy envelope opener, she cut along one side of the envelope and gently eased out with card within.
"Save the Date!" it festively commanded, the ivory color offset by silver balloons and bubbles. The tall blonde traced the embossed decorations on the card. It was expensive, obviously, though not in a ridiculous manner or to be showy. The quality of the card and smoothness of the edges and clarity of lettering revealed the import of the occasion. Still tracing the design, Haruka was beginning to go into a daze when there was a quiet but demanding ringing from the phone in front of her. Holding the card with her right hand she reached for the phone with her left and hit the speaker button.
"Yes?"
A prim and polite voice came surely over the line. "Tenoh-sama, your daughter is on line two."
Smiling, Haruka reached for the necessary button and lifted the hand set from the cradle, while thanking her secretary. "Hime-chan," she spoke into the receiver after she brought it to her ear.
"Haruka-appa!" The woman thus referred immediately relaxed at the sound of her daughter's voice. "Guess what?" When Haruka professed a lack of any hint as to what her daughter might be speaking of, the young girl motored on. "Machida-sensei said that my playing is getting so good she says I might someday be a real concert violinist!" Haruka smiled at the thought, both for its romanticism and because the normally soft-spoken violin teacher most likely said those words in much more sedate manner. Hotaru continued blissfully. "And at the end of the lesson, she mentioned that there was a concert in a few days, and guess WHO IT IS!" Not allowing time for Haruka to do more than chuckle, Hotaru was on a roll. "Kaioh MICHIRU!"
At that last declaration, Haruka winced and eased the phone further from her ear. She preferred to speak to her daughter over the traditional handset, because it felt more concrete to hold on to something and even in this day and age it still sounded better than the speakerphone, but at times it was dangerous for her tender eardrums.
Gauging her daughter's level of excitement by the distance she had to pull the phone away, Haruka hesitantly returned the phone to its position over her vulnerable ears. "And am I correct to assume you want to go?" This time a breathless affirmative came over the line. Haruka wasn't surprised. Ever since Hotaru had picked up the violin four years ago, the young girl had latched onto the preeminent violinist of their time, Kaioh Michiru. The woman was known to be a bit of a hermit and rarely made public appearances, and Hotaru collected every newspaper clipping, photo in a magazine or online, and sound byte that featured the famous instrumentalist. Haruka had nurtured that fan behavior, being a fan of classical music herself and having heard a few of the mysterious woman's recordings. In the last few years, however, she had been too busy to follow the classical music scene, or any scene at all, but she was pleased to see her daughter keep up with it, even as she neared puberty and the onset of mercurial likes and dislikes threatened to cover the pictures of Kaioh-san on Hotaru's wall with those of the freshest boy band.
Haruka felt a small pang at that moment for the life she once had. Her responsibilities had been limited, and she mostly took care of herself and her interests. But now the interests of others came first. She put down the card still held delicately in her fingers and switched her phone to her left, grasping her overly heavy pen—no doubt worth more than a small car—and poised it over her stately stationary. "Okay, what time and where is it?"
Hotaru breathlessly rushed out with the details, as if afraid that her parent would deny her. It was on a school night, after all, but it being Kaioh Michiru, Haruka knew she couldn't let this opportunity pass for her daughter. After receiving overjoyed thanks at Haruka's confirmation that she would get tickets, even a loud and proud "I Love You!", Haruka smiled and hung up the phone. Gazing at the time and date, Haruka pressed the intercom button of her phone. "Unazuki?" she called.
"Yes?" came the reply.
Haruka tapped at her lower lip with her pen. "Do I have something important scheduled for next Tuesday night?" Haruka was feeling the urge to go with her daughter. It had been so long since she went to a concert, and a little art patronage by her would no doubt be appreciated by classical enthusiasts around the country. Also, it would give her and her daughter some time together, which Haruka found she was snatching at every scarce opportunity.
There was the sound of a book being opened and pages turned. "Yes, you do ma'am." Haruka bit back a curse. "It's a state function, actually, and you'll be entertaining guests from the top tiers of the military branches. I'm afraid that you won't be able to cancel, if that was what you were about to ask, Tenoh-sama."
Haruka sighed. It figured, especially considering most of these attempts by her were thwarted by another function. She realized that she couldn't blame Minako for booking so many evenings for networking; the younger woman no doubt wanted time off for herself. Haruka frowned and not for the first time questioned why she allowed herself to be convinced to do this job.
She had forgotten that her secretary was still on the line, until the woman spoke up. "On the bright side, ma'am, there'll be classical music." Haruka's ears perked. "It appears that a Kaioh Michiru will be playing at it."
If the secretary was surprised by the sound of Haruka's chair scraping as it was forcefully shoved from her body by her sudden stand, she didn't mention it. "Should I put you through to Aino-san?"
"If you will."
Haruka stood stock-still while she listened to the ring tone of the cell phone she was contacting, which was currently some random J-Pop song. At times like this, in fact most of the time, Haruka was irked at how a secure line, filled with anti-bugging technology and through which only she ever called, could still have a modern pop song mp3 as its ring tone. And of course the irked feelings extended to the irreverent woman who had put it there. This could also be Haruka's own utilitarian personality and military background coming into play, the blonde admitted to herself, but honestly!
"Moshi moooooshi?" The lilted and amused voice, as usual, put Haruka off of her track. She may always try to stress to Minako the seriousness of her job, but the woman was incorrigible. And, as Haruka was beginning to realize, it was beginning to grow on her. She remembered herself and her purpose.
"Minako, that event next Tuesday, you know that Kaioh Michiru is the guest?"
There came an almost-offended huff. "Of course, I especially arranged it." Haruka blinked in surprise. Minako took her silence as either the precursor to a blow-up or as a request to continue her explanation; either way, she breezed on. "I know you have listened to her music, so I sent a request to her people to see if she would be willing to play at a function, though it was on a whim since I figured she was a little bit too famous to do mere state functions. Sure enough, I got an automatic response denying my request. But a few weeks ago, I get a hand-written letter from the woman saying she'd 'love to play for the illustrious Tenoh Haruka' and that the nearest opportunity would be excellent." Haruka could practically see the "pleased kitten face" the shorter blonde must have been sporting. "My people, namely myself, got with her people and we sealed and dealed and now the woman is playing for you on Tuesday. Oh and don't worry, I've got a seat reserved for Hotaru-chan, too."
Haruka was shocked, at both the turn of events and what she perceived to be the magical power of Minako to make anything happen, and the fact that the woman had the presence of mind to include her daughter. She was too wrapped up to even hear Minako remark airily, "She has such marvelous penmanship…"
"So, Minako…" Haruka began to speak finally, though she had nothing really to say but her fevered brain demanded that sounds to come from her mouth. "… What are you doing right now?"
"Shopping."
Haruka nearly choked. In the middle of the work week, Minako was off shopping. Most likely hearing the gasping noises in the background, Minako went on. "I need to have a good outfit for the event! Do you have any idea what types of people are going to come? You've got you, you hot mama, and the heads of the military, and Kaioh Michiru!" She sounded immensely pleased with herself. "Movie stars are begging to come and rub elbows! And of course every politician in the Diet. I have had loads of practice at my 'None for you!' catch phrase. And I'm shopping because what if a movie star/musician/model sweeps me off my feet? If I do not color coordinate then the tabloid pictures will be awful!"
Defeated, Haruka sat back in her chair, feeling her tensed muscles painfully begin to relax. She hadn't realized that she had been holding herself so rigidly. Grinning wolfishly, she decided to surprise her PR specialist. "What do I get to wear?"
Hearing a clatter in the background of something most likely being dropped, Haruka chuckled. "Haruka-san!" The woman sounded scandalized. "In all of my years working for you, I never thought… oh, God… hold on, I need to sit a moment…"
Haruka laughed, easing back into her chair. "All three of those years?"
An unladylike snort replied. "Don't go starting on age, Haruka-san!" she scolded. "And anyway, wear whatever you want! I can make you the perfect party, bring the perfect guests, and get you there on time, but dressing your body is up to you. Plus, I know you've got style. And if not, you can always wear that icky military outfit."
Haruka paused for effect. "… so some JAF sweats?"
The sound of a dead line was her only answer as she was unceremoniously hung up on. Chuckling, Haruka set about to finishing her day. She carefully took the wedding invitation from her desk, placed it back in its envelope, and then slid it gently into her briefcase pocket.
As she went about her day, Haruka felt an unusual tension and excitement within her. As she signed important documents and fielded phone calls from important people, she found herself somehow distracted. It wasn't until she started humming while getting ready to leave that she could pinpoint the source of her tension.
It was anticipation. Realizing that she hadn't felt that way in a long time, Haruka took off her medal-studded jacket and, after draping it on the back of her seat, leaned against her desk. "Unazuki," she paged. After an affirmative sound, Haruka continued. "One last thing before you go: could you please put me through to Minako?"
The sound of that same infernal J-Pop song filled the darkening corners of her office. Haruka noted to herself to never put Minako on speakerphone if she had anybody else in her office. "Haruka-san?" asked the girlish voice on the other end.
"Thank you very much, Minako." Haruka could envision the blush and 1000-watt smile the other woman must be sporting. She heard a deep breath on the other end.
"You're welcome, Shusho-kantei!"
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Firstly, 'Shusho-kantei' is, I believe, the proper way to address the Prime Minister. Feel free to correct me if I'm being wrong (damn you Wikipedia!).
Secondly, 'Haruka-appa' is not a typo, and the reasons for it will become apparent at a later time.
Thank you for reading the first chapter! Sorry if I'm being obnoxiously ambivalent and confusing, but I've been watching too much TV lately and you know how they like to wait for ten episodes before they explain why a character did this or that. If it gets to be too much, let me know!
I apologize in advance for the mess of the Japanese political system I'm about to make. I realize that Japan has a prime minister and emperor, and there's the Diet, but beyond that I'm going to avoid adhering strictly to the actual facts. It's too hard. I'm glad I get to use my artistic license card for something other than jimmying open locked doors.
I would appreciate all criticisms, and even the occasional flame. I like it spicy, and I don't take things personally.