Well, after standing for an hour and a half having four hundred girls
glaring at you 'cause your choir teacher let you wear flip-flops under your dress (the only good thing that came from stubbing your toe on the elevator at
your hotel) and they're all passing out around you (hey...it was hot in there,
damnit), it's nice to see that something came of the whole thing besides my
credit card bill (I won the shopping award...I'm not sure if I should be proud
of that).
Just to clarify a couple of things: the Requiem Mass is a very old Roman
Catholic prayer (c. 3rd century A.D.) that is said or sung when someone passes
on. In other words, a death mass. Many composers put the prayer to song,
including Mozart, Brahms, Verdi, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. There are nine parts:
Requiem Aeternum, Kyrie Eleison, Dies Irae (which was added during the 12th
century), the Offertorio, Sanctus, Benedictus, Agnus Dei, Lux Aeterna, and
Libera Me. Since I'm using Verdi's scheme to name the chapters (he combined the
Requiem and Kyrie Eleison as well as Sanctus and Benedictus), there'll only be
seven, partially because this fits the story scheme better, and partially
because I signed up for 3 AP classes and have college apps to fill out and
frankly, I treasure my free time. Feel honored I chose to spend it on this (I
really am kidding...too much bitter Underground man talking...ack! I hate that
book!) If you're interested in the Requiem (and a translation) you can find out
more here:
http://usrwww.mpx.com.au/~charles/Requiem/lyrics.htm
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Sailormoon. Get over it.
Requiem for a Soldier
Part I: Requiem Aeternum (Eternal Rest)
Rating: R
Email: tennyo@home.com
It was quiet for once in Tokyo; the dull roar of the city seemed no more
than an insolent drone. A cold gale blew harshly around the young girl, chilling her to the bone. Everything around her was old, worn. Even the sky seemed tired and dim.
She saw the blood red leaves fall from the maple trees around her. Her
long pigtails blew aimlessly around her face.
Time passes, seasons change. Everything dies, only to blossom again next
Spring.
Ami once told her the story of Hades and Persephone: how Demeter refused
to let the earth bear fruit because her daughter had been stolen away, how her
precious child was bound to return to the dark underworld because Hades had
tricked her into eating the food of the dead. In Spring, when Persephone came
home, everything was beautiful again.
A nice enough story. Creepy, but nice. And once in a while she dared to
wonder if Persephone hated the underworld, if she had been really kidnapped, or
maybe. . . just maybe . . . but that wasn't the point. Persephone was *kidnapped*. That was all there was to it.
So with a heavy sigh, she pulled out her star locket and opened it. She
kept it with her these days, as if to remind her . . . of something. The soft,
tinkling music pervaded her ears. Funny how it used to bring her such comfort.
Funny how things change.
With an infuriated gesture, she snapped it shut, rapidly cutting the
soothing music off.
He'd been so distant since he'd returned from America. Cold, even. And
yet she couldn't exactly put her finger on what it was that had come between
them. Maybe she'd changed, but if she knew anything, it was that she would
always be Usagi, for better or for worse. He never answered his phone, even
when she *knew* he was home, and he concentrated on his schoolwork with an
almost frightening intensity. That was the thing about Chiba Mamoru; with him,
you were everything or nothing at all. Except . . . Usagi never knew what she meant to him.
Right now, however, it was leaning towards nothing.
For a while, she'd even wondered if he'd found someone else, but when she
approached him he denied it feverishly, frantically swore that she was the only
one for him.
But if that was true, why wouldn't he touch her? Why wouldn't he look her in the eye?
With quick, jerky movements, she pulled her coat around her. It was so
cold. It made her wonder if *he* had somehow caused it. Usagi pushed roughly
through the silent crowds.
And crashed smack-dab into someone.
She looked up and blushed. Mamoru's lanky form towered above her, gazing
at her listlessly. Figured.
"Good afternoon, Usa-ko."
Usa-ko. What a joke.
"Hey, Mamoru," Usagi didn't notice him wince, "how're you?"
"Fine," he said, staring intently at her. He made no move towards her,
simply clutched the book he was holding a little harder.
Normally she loved those deep blue eyes, but the feel of them staring so
formidably at her, full of passion but completely unreadable, was beginning to
make her a little angry. She remembered it, three nights ago, in a restaurant
that charged as much as a new manga for a mere soda. The way she'd yelled at
him while he simply sat there, staring at her in that exact same way.
He finally looked down. "Still angry?" His face was drawn, pale.
"You bet I am," she bit back saucily. If he could just . . . if he
would. . . . "If you'd just talk to me, Mamo-chan--"
Mamoru turned away from her abruptly. "I have a class, Usa-ko. We'll talk about this later." It took everything he had not to run, but she didn't
know that. He didn't expect her to know, much less understand.
"NO WE WON'T!" she screamed at the retreating figure. "BECAUSE YOU WON'T
TALK TO ME AT ALL!"
He didn't even look back.
Damn him. The wind blew harder and the clouds rolled in. A hot, fat drop
slipped down her face--at first, she thought it was the rain. Swiping furiously
at her cheek, she started to sprint away, longing to be anywhere but here,
anyone but herself right now...
And she crashed into someone else.
"Still can't seem to go anywhere without crashing into people, ne, neko-
chan?"
She looked up. "Haruka-san?"
The slim, boyish blonde smiled and ruffled Usagi's hair. "It's been a
while, hasn't it?"
"Mm-hmm," Usagi said softly, trying to sound cool and composed. The
Outers had always seemed the epitome of inner poise to her; Usagi desperately
wished she could have Haruka's relentless confidence or Michiru's cool elegance.
Maybe then Mamoru wouldn't be drifting away from her . . .
"Is something the matter, neko-chan? You look sad."
She pulled her chin up and plastered on a smile. "I'm fine, Haruka-san."
Haruka smirked. "Nice try, neko-chan, but you're a terrible liar. God,
it's cold out here! How about we go some place and warm up?"
With a real smile, Usagi allowed Haruka to lead her to the parking garage.
* * * * * * * * *
"Chamomile?"
"Sounds yummy." Usagi drank the tea Michiru had poured for her in three
gulps. She'd never been to Haruka and Michiru's home, the stately mansion by
the sea decorated in soft, cool colors expertly chosen to augment each room's
best features yet still seem unified--undoubtedly the artistic Michiru's work.
Her paintings dotted the walls. Opulent, no doubt, but there was something
about the house that still seemed cozy. It felt like a home.
Usagi remembered how Mamoru's apartment never really felt like a home,
more like a hotel room. As if he--and she--were merely strangers passing
through by chance.
"Something on your mind, Usagi-chan?" Michiru smiled kindly. "You look
distracted."
"I've never been here before," Usagi said very solemnly, still staring at
the walls.
"You haven't?" Haruka was sprawled on the couch, her head hanging down to
the floor. "I thought you'd been to our little cottage by the sea, as Michiru
likes to put it."
"Iie." Usagi stood up and stared out the glass doors. The sea was
churning viciously that afternoon; it was stormy, like the sky. "It's
so . . . homey."
"Home is where the heart is," Michiru shrugged, blushing at her corny
statement.
"And the bedroom," Haruka added wickedly, winking at Michiru. Her partner
turned red; Usagi giggled. As she'd gotten older, she'd come to terms with the
nature of Haruka and Michiru's relationship. Minako had once told her she was
more mature than all of them for it, and] the couple seemed truly grateful that
their Princess accepted them so fully.
Right now, she sensed Michiru sit down next to Haruka and start bantering
with her partner. Despite the argumentative tone, Usagi could almost hear the
love in her voice . . . almost like something she could reach out and touch.
Usagi turned around. "How do you two do it?" she asked, staring at her
shoes.
"Do what?" the two Outers asked simultaneously.
"I don't know," she mumbled. "I guess . . . how are you so right for each
other?"
"Right for each other?"
"It's so easy for you," she muttered at them, flopping onto the couch.
"You just . . . love each other. There's nothing *difficult* about it."
Michiru looked at Haruka and little light bulbs went off over their heads.
"Usagi-chan, are you having problems with Mamoru-san?"
"I don't even know," she whispered sadly. "It's like I'm reaching out but
he's still too far away."
"He loves you, you know," Haruka said very seriously. "Even if he isn't
really comfortable with it." She turned right side up and muttered something
about a head rush. Michiru patted her lover's woozy skull and smirked.
"Comfortable?" Usagi was too perplexed to pay attention.
Michiru sat next to Usagi and wrapped an arm around the smaller girl.
"He's not exactly an open book, Usagi-chan, but I don't think Mamoru-san likes
the idea that he needs someone else as much as he really does. Try to be
patient with him."
"I DO try!" Usagi cried, bounding up from the sofa. "Why does he always
pull away from me? The first thing he did after he came back from the dead was
call Harvard and see if they'd still take him! He stayed an extra seven months,
and . . . and ever since he got back . . . he won't talk to me, won't touch me,
he's always so . . . so. . . ." Usagi flopped next to the dangling Haruka.
When she sat down, the star locket fell out of her coat and opened,
playing its soft melody for the two elder senshi. Michiru's ears pricked like a
rabbit's as she listened intently to the small tune.
"Lousy thing," Usagi muttered, snapping it shut.
"Wait a minute!" Michiru cried. "What was that?"
"This . . .? My star locket. It's from the Moon Kingdom. I gave it to
Endymion before I died, and Tuxedo Kamen gave it to me."
"I recognize it," Michiru said impatiently, "but what was that song?"
Haruka put a hand to her forehead. "Oh God, here we go again..."
"Well excuse me for seeking immortality, Ten'oh Haruka!"
"What?" Usagi was decidedly confused.
"Michiru's decided that being the best violin AND cello player in the free
world isn't enough for her," Haruka groaned. "So she started composing. But
there's a problem."
"What's that?" Usagi asked.
"Composer's block," Haruka said with a smirk.
Usagi stared at Michiru. "Composer's block?"
"In other words, I can't write a damn note," Michiru scowled and threw a
pillow at Haruka. Usagi realized that it must be bad if Michiru had been
reduced to cursing and hurling projectiles through the air.
Haruka easily caught the pillow and shook her head. "Maybe you're just
not cut out for immortality, Michi."
"With an attitude like that, *Ruka*," she hissed, "I probably won't ever
write a note."
"That's what you get for aiming to high," Haruka said smoothly. "What did
the Greeks call it? Hubris $not sure here, but hubris definitely means that you're not SEEKING immortality, but BELIEVE you've already obtained it. Dunno if this is okay or not. Keep if you want, or change it$?"
"So maybe trying to write an entire Requiem was a little ambitious, but
your condescending remarks don't help me, Haruka!"
"Re-kii-em?"
Michiru and Haruka stopped arguing. "A death mass," Haruka explained
flatly. "It's an old Catholic prayer that a bunch of composers have set to
music. Mostly dead white guys."
"That's morbid," Usagi said seriously, staring at Michiru.
"No, it's not," Michiru sighed. "And that brings me back to the reason
all this started. May I hear the song the locket plays?"
Usagi reluctantly opened the locket, which played for the trio. Michiru
was enraptured, Haruka was bored but a little curious, and Usagi just wanted the
damn thing to shut up.
"Ne, Usagi-chan, is the music upsetting you?" Haruka, for once, had lost
her trademark sarcastic smirk and looked genuinely concerned for the little
odango-haired girl.
"I guess it is," Usagi admitted softly, closing the locket. "The music
only plays for true lovers," she explained. "But now it's just mocking me."
"It's beautiful," Michiru whispered excitedly.
"My misery?" Usagi asked in confusion.
"Not exactly," Haruka rolled her eyes.
Michiru hurriedly sat down at the chestnut Steinway in the corner. With
graceful motions, she began to play the locket's song. Yet as she went along,
Usagi noticed the notes were somewhat changed, created a different, equally
beautiful harmony, much poignant than the locket's. She stopped abruptly and
starting writing eagerly on a blank page with several music bars printed on it,
grinning wildly all the while.
Haruka stared at her lover as if the girl had just grown a third eye.
"That's sick, Michiru-san, and I'll bet Usagi-chan wouldn't appreciate it,
either."
"Baka," Michiru growled at her lover without even looking up, "it's not
like I'm setting the words to the exact tune. It's just a starting point.
Inspiration."
"What is she doing?" Usagi asked Haruka nervously.
"She's using your 'true love song' to write her Requiem."
"MICHIRU!" Usagi screamed in horror. Michiru snapped to attention. "Stop
it RIGHT NOW!"
Michiru looked at the notes she'd scribbled. "Usagi-chan," she said
quietly, very resolutely, "I want to make beautiful music. Shouldn't you be
happy that your love inspires me to write?"
"I-I guess . . ." Usagi conceded reluctantly.
"If you were writing a 'Gloria' or something I'd be behind this one
hundred percent," Haruka said icily, arms crossed in front of her chest, "but
this is warped, Michiru. You're so intent on 'achieving immortality' that you'd
actually take a symbol of Usagi's love and distort it like that..."
"It's not like that," Michiru said quietly, wringing her hands. She
looked up, her gaze watery. "Not like that at all."
"Then what IS it, Michiru?" Haruka demanded. "You know I support your
music, but neko-chan's song. . . ."
Michiru smiled faintly and pulled a folder from a cabinet under her seat.
"She used to compose the most beautiful music. . . ."
"Who?" Haruka raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"
"I'm breaking the code of silence."
Usagi finally interjected with, "What code of silence?"
Haruka hesitated. "We, ah, try not to talk about our lives before we
met," she said slowly. "Painful memories. A lot of baggage and all. Michiru
and I decided to leave our old lives behind . . . then again," Haruka smiled
wistfully and stared out the window towards her car, "I guess it's not that
simple."
Ditzy as she may have been, Usagi understood things about her loved ones
most people could barely fathom. She could sense the 'code of silence' had long
since worn out its welcome.
Michiru, meanwhile, opened at the folder and gazed bleakly at the papers,
a sad smile lingering on her lips. Usagi looked over her shoulder to see bars
of handwritten notes written in a handwriting that was similar but not exactly
Michiru's. The lovely aqua-haired senshi took a pained breath and opened her
mouth, but no words came out.
The odango-haired blonde beamed. Usagi's smile was so bright it nearly
blinded the older senshi. "You don't have to tell me," she whispered. "I can
see how much this means to you now."
"What?" Haruka stood up and stared at the pages. "Did I miss something?"
Usagi placed the locket on top of the folder. "Make your music. And when
you're all done with it, maybe then you'll be able to break the code of
silence."
Michiru looked at her with shining eyes. "I...I..."
"Make your beautiful music," Usagi repeated. She looked at the
clock. "It's getting late."
--Flatly and excitedly-the change in Usagi's emotions is too quick and confuses me.
"I'll give you a ride, neko-chan," Haruka said, leading Usagi out the
door.
The girl looked up one last time. "Usagi-chan?"
"Yes?"
"You have no idea what this means to me."
"You'd be surprised." Usagi winked and practically danced out the door.
* * * * * * * * *
Haruka waited until she was about a mile away from the house to finally
ask questions.
"So why did you let her use the song?" she asked, staring out at the road.
"Because she was writing the music for someone she loved."
A slender neck snapped around. "Who?" she asked suspiciously.
"Her mother."
"Her . . . mother . . . but how did you . . . why would you. . . ."
"I just knew," Usagi shrugged. Haruka let out a low whistle and turned
back to the road.
When they finally arrived at Usagi's house, the clouds had rolled out and
the sky was pink as the last beams of sunlight faded away. Haruka opened
Usagi's door and stared at the sunset.
"It's pretty," Haruka said carefully, struggling to say what had been on
her mind since she'd watched Usagi and Mamoru argue that afternoon.
"Haruka-san...?"
"Let me tell you something, Usa-chan," Haruka said seriously. "The sun
sets, but it'll rise tomorrow morning. Things change. Nothing ever stays the
same."
She knew Haruka was talking about Usagi's relationship with Mamoru. "What
do you mean, Haruka-san?"
The girl got back into the car and started the ignition. "I guess what
I'm trying to say," Haruka said slowly, "is that the only things that last
forever are the things you can't see with your eyes or touch with your hands."
And she drove off into the sunset.
Something smiled in the darkness.
* * * * * * * * * *
Email: tennyo@home.com
glaring at you 'cause your choir teacher let you wear flip-flops under your dress (the only good thing that came from stubbing your toe on the elevator at
your hotel) and they're all passing out around you (hey...it was hot in there,
damnit), it's nice to see that something came of the whole thing besides my
credit card bill (I won the shopping award...I'm not sure if I should be proud
of that).
Just to clarify a couple of things: the Requiem Mass is a very old Roman
Catholic prayer (c. 3rd century A.D.) that is said or sung when someone passes
on. In other words, a death mass. Many composers put the prayer to song,
including Mozart, Brahms, Verdi, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. There are nine parts:
Requiem Aeternum, Kyrie Eleison, Dies Irae (which was added during the 12th
century), the Offertorio, Sanctus, Benedictus, Agnus Dei, Lux Aeterna, and
Libera Me. Since I'm using Verdi's scheme to name the chapters (he combined the
Requiem and Kyrie Eleison as well as Sanctus and Benedictus), there'll only be
seven, partially because this fits the story scheme better, and partially
because I signed up for 3 AP classes and have college apps to fill out and
frankly, I treasure my free time. Feel honored I chose to spend it on this (I
really am kidding...too much bitter Underground man talking...ack! I hate that
book!) If you're interested in the Requiem (and a translation) you can find out
more here:
http://usrwww.mpx.com.au/~charles/Requiem/lyrics.htm
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Sailormoon. Get over it.
Requiem for a Soldier
Part I: Requiem Aeternum (Eternal Rest)
Rating: R
Email: tennyo@home.com
It was quiet for once in Tokyo; the dull roar of the city seemed no more
than an insolent drone. A cold gale blew harshly around the young girl, chilling her to the bone. Everything around her was old, worn. Even the sky seemed tired and dim.
She saw the blood red leaves fall from the maple trees around her. Her
long pigtails blew aimlessly around her face.
Time passes, seasons change. Everything dies, only to blossom again next
Spring.
Ami once told her the story of Hades and Persephone: how Demeter refused
to let the earth bear fruit because her daughter had been stolen away, how her
precious child was bound to return to the dark underworld because Hades had
tricked her into eating the food of the dead. In Spring, when Persephone came
home, everything was beautiful again.
A nice enough story. Creepy, but nice. And once in a while she dared to
wonder if Persephone hated the underworld, if she had been really kidnapped, or
maybe. . . just maybe . . . but that wasn't the point. Persephone was *kidnapped*. That was all there was to it.
So with a heavy sigh, she pulled out her star locket and opened it. She
kept it with her these days, as if to remind her . . . of something. The soft,
tinkling music pervaded her ears. Funny how it used to bring her such comfort.
Funny how things change.
With an infuriated gesture, she snapped it shut, rapidly cutting the
soothing music off.
He'd been so distant since he'd returned from America. Cold, even. And
yet she couldn't exactly put her finger on what it was that had come between
them. Maybe she'd changed, but if she knew anything, it was that she would
always be Usagi, for better or for worse. He never answered his phone, even
when she *knew* he was home, and he concentrated on his schoolwork with an
almost frightening intensity. That was the thing about Chiba Mamoru; with him,
you were everything or nothing at all. Except . . . Usagi never knew what she meant to him.
Right now, however, it was leaning towards nothing.
For a while, she'd even wondered if he'd found someone else, but when she
approached him he denied it feverishly, frantically swore that she was the only
one for him.
But if that was true, why wouldn't he touch her? Why wouldn't he look her in the eye?
With quick, jerky movements, she pulled her coat around her. It was so
cold. It made her wonder if *he* had somehow caused it. Usagi pushed roughly
through the silent crowds.
And crashed smack-dab into someone.
She looked up and blushed. Mamoru's lanky form towered above her, gazing
at her listlessly. Figured.
"Good afternoon, Usa-ko."
Usa-ko. What a joke.
"Hey, Mamoru," Usagi didn't notice him wince, "how're you?"
"Fine," he said, staring intently at her. He made no move towards her,
simply clutched the book he was holding a little harder.
Normally she loved those deep blue eyes, but the feel of them staring so
formidably at her, full of passion but completely unreadable, was beginning to
make her a little angry. She remembered it, three nights ago, in a restaurant
that charged as much as a new manga for a mere soda. The way she'd yelled at
him while he simply sat there, staring at her in that exact same way.
He finally looked down. "Still angry?" His face was drawn, pale.
"You bet I am," she bit back saucily. If he could just . . . if he
would. . . . "If you'd just talk to me, Mamo-chan--"
Mamoru turned away from her abruptly. "I have a class, Usa-ko. We'll talk about this later." It took everything he had not to run, but she didn't
know that. He didn't expect her to know, much less understand.
"NO WE WON'T!" she screamed at the retreating figure. "BECAUSE YOU WON'T
TALK TO ME AT ALL!"
He didn't even look back.
Damn him. The wind blew harder and the clouds rolled in. A hot, fat drop
slipped down her face--at first, she thought it was the rain. Swiping furiously
at her cheek, she started to sprint away, longing to be anywhere but here,
anyone but herself right now...
And she crashed into someone else.
"Still can't seem to go anywhere without crashing into people, ne, neko-
chan?"
She looked up. "Haruka-san?"
The slim, boyish blonde smiled and ruffled Usagi's hair. "It's been a
while, hasn't it?"
"Mm-hmm," Usagi said softly, trying to sound cool and composed. The
Outers had always seemed the epitome of inner poise to her; Usagi desperately
wished she could have Haruka's relentless confidence or Michiru's cool elegance.
Maybe then Mamoru wouldn't be drifting away from her . . .
"Is something the matter, neko-chan? You look sad."
She pulled her chin up and plastered on a smile. "I'm fine, Haruka-san."
Haruka smirked. "Nice try, neko-chan, but you're a terrible liar. God,
it's cold out here! How about we go some place and warm up?"
With a real smile, Usagi allowed Haruka to lead her to the parking garage.
* * * * * * * * *
"Chamomile?"
"Sounds yummy." Usagi drank the tea Michiru had poured for her in three
gulps. She'd never been to Haruka and Michiru's home, the stately mansion by
the sea decorated in soft, cool colors expertly chosen to augment each room's
best features yet still seem unified--undoubtedly the artistic Michiru's work.
Her paintings dotted the walls. Opulent, no doubt, but there was something
about the house that still seemed cozy. It felt like a home.
Usagi remembered how Mamoru's apartment never really felt like a home,
more like a hotel room. As if he--and she--were merely strangers passing
through by chance.
"Something on your mind, Usagi-chan?" Michiru smiled kindly. "You look
distracted."
"I've never been here before," Usagi said very solemnly, still staring at
the walls.
"You haven't?" Haruka was sprawled on the couch, her head hanging down to
the floor. "I thought you'd been to our little cottage by the sea, as Michiru
likes to put it."
"Iie." Usagi stood up and stared out the glass doors. The sea was
churning viciously that afternoon; it was stormy, like the sky. "It's
so . . . homey."
"Home is where the heart is," Michiru shrugged, blushing at her corny
statement.
"And the bedroom," Haruka added wickedly, winking at Michiru. Her partner
turned red; Usagi giggled. As she'd gotten older, she'd come to terms with the
nature of Haruka and Michiru's relationship. Minako had once told her she was
more mature than all of them for it, and] the couple seemed truly grateful that
their Princess accepted them so fully.
Right now, she sensed Michiru sit down next to Haruka and start bantering
with her partner. Despite the argumentative tone, Usagi could almost hear the
love in her voice . . . almost like something she could reach out and touch.
Usagi turned around. "How do you two do it?" she asked, staring at her
shoes.
"Do what?" the two Outers asked simultaneously.
"I don't know," she mumbled. "I guess . . . how are you so right for each
other?"
"Right for each other?"
"It's so easy for you," she muttered at them, flopping onto the couch.
"You just . . . love each other. There's nothing *difficult* about it."
Michiru looked at Haruka and little light bulbs went off over their heads.
"Usagi-chan, are you having problems with Mamoru-san?"
"I don't even know," she whispered sadly. "It's like I'm reaching out but
he's still too far away."
"He loves you, you know," Haruka said very seriously. "Even if he isn't
really comfortable with it." She turned right side up and muttered something
about a head rush. Michiru patted her lover's woozy skull and smirked.
"Comfortable?" Usagi was too perplexed to pay attention.
Michiru sat next to Usagi and wrapped an arm around the smaller girl.
"He's not exactly an open book, Usagi-chan, but I don't think Mamoru-san likes
the idea that he needs someone else as much as he really does. Try to be
patient with him."
"I DO try!" Usagi cried, bounding up from the sofa. "Why does he always
pull away from me? The first thing he did after he came back from the dead was
call Harvard and see if they'd still take him! He stayed an extra seven months,
and . . . and ever since he got back . . . he won't talk to me, won't touch me,
he's always so . . . so. . . ." Usagi flopped next to the dangling Haruka.
When she sat down, the star locket fell out of her coat and opened,
playing its soft melody for the two elder senshi. Michiru's ears pricked like a
rabbit's as she listened intently to the small tune.
"Lousy thing," Usagi muttered, snapping it shut.
"Wait a minute!" Michiru cried. "What was that?"
"This . . .? My star locket. It's from the Moon Kingdom. I gave it to
Endymion before I died, and Tuxedo Kamen gave it to me."
"I recognize it," Michiru said impatiently, "but what was that song?"
Haruka put a hand to her forehead. "Oh God, here we go again..."
"Well excuse me for seeking immortality, Ten'oh Haruka!"
"What?" Usagi was decidedly confused.
"Michiru's decided that being the best violin AND cello player in the free
world isn't enough for her," Haruka groaned. "So she started composing. But
there's a problem."
"What's that?" Usagi asked.
"Composer's block," Haruka said with a smirk.
Usagi stared at Michiru. "Composer's block?"
"In other words, I can't write a damn note," Michiru scowled and threw a
pillow at Haruka. Usagi realized that it must be bad if Michiru had been
reduced to cursing and hurling projectiles through the air.
Haruka easily caught the pillow and shook her head. "Maybe you're just
not cut out for immortality, Michi."
"With an attitude like that, *Ruka*," she hissed, "I probably won't ever
write a note."
"That's what you get for aiming to high," Haruka said smoothly. "What did
the Greeks call it? Hubris $not sure here, but hubris definitely means that you're not SEEKING immortality, but BELIEVE you've already obtained it. Dunno if this is okay or not. Keep if you want, or change it$?"
"So maybe trying to write an entire Requiem was a little ambitious, but
your condescending remarks don't help me, Haruka!"
"Re-kii-em?"
Michiru and Haruka stopped arguing. "A death mass," Haruka explained
flatly. "It's an old Catholic prayer that a bunch of composers have set to
music. Mostly dead white guys."
"That's morbid," Usagi said seriously, staring at Michiru.
"No, it's not," Michiru sighed. "And that brings me back to the reason
all this started. May I hear the song the locket plays?"
Usagi reluctantly opened the locket, which played for the trio. Michiru
was enraptured, Haruka was bored but a little curious, and Usagi just wanted the
damn thing to shut up.
"Ne, Usagi-chan, is the music upsetting you?" Haruka, for once, had lost
her trademark sarcastic smirk and looked genuinely concerned for the little
odango-haired girl.
"I guess it is," Usagi admitted softly, closing the locket. "The music
only plays for true lovers," she explained. "But now it's just mocking me."
"It's beautiful," Michiru whispered excitedly.
"My misery?" Usagi asked in confusion.
"Not exactly," Haruka rolled her eyes.
Michiru hurriedly sat down at the chestnut Steinway in the corner. With
graceful motions, she began to play the locket's song. Yet as she went along,
Usagi noticed the notes were somewhat changed, created a different, equally
beautiful harmony, much poignant than the locket's. She stopped abruptly and
starting writing eagerly on a blank page with several music bars printed on it,
grinning wildly all the while.
Haruka stared at her lover as if the girl had just grown a third eye.
"That's sick, Michiru-san, and I'll bet Usagi-chan wouldn't appreciate it,
either."
"Baka," Michiru growled at her lover without even looking up, "it's not
like I'm setting the words to the exact tune. It's just a starting point.
Inspiration."
"What is she doing?" Usagi asked Haruka nervously.
"She's using your 'true love song' to write her Requiem."
"MICHIRU!" Usagi screamed in horror. Michiru snapped to attention. "Stop
it RIGHT NOW!"
Michiru looked at the notes she'd scribbled. "Usagi-chan," she said
quietly, very resolutely, "I want to make beautiful music. Shouldn't you be
happy that your love inspires me to write?"
"I-I guess . . ." Usagi conceded reluctantly.
"If you were writing a 'Gloria' or something I'd be behind this one
hundred percent," Haruka said icily, arms crossed in front of her chest, "but
this is warped, Michiru. You're so intent on 'achieving immortality' that you'd
actually take a symbol of Usagi's love and distort it like that..."
"It's not like that," Michiru said quietly, wringing her hands. She
looked up, her gaze watery. "Not like that at all."
"Then what IS it, Michiru?" Haruka demanded. "You know I support your
music, but neko-chan's song. . . ."
Michiru smiled faintly and pulled a folder from a cabinet under her seat.
"She used to compose the most beautiful music. . . ."
"Who?" Haruka raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"
"I'm breaking the code of silence."
Usagi finally interjected with, "What code of silence?"
Haruka hesitated. "We, ah, try not to talk about our lives before we
met," she said slowly. "Painful memories. A lot of baggage and all. Michiru
and I decided to leave our old lives behind . . . then again," Haruka smiled
wistfully and stared out the window towards her car, "I guess it's not that
simple."
Ditzy as she may have been, Usagi understood things about her loved ones
most people could barely fathom. She could sense the 'code of silence' had long
since worn out its welcome.
Michiru, meanwhile, opened at the folder and gazed bleakly at the papers,
a sad smile lingering on her lips. Usagi looked over her shoulder to see bars
of handwritten notes written in a handwriting that was similar but not exactly
Michiru's. The lovely aqua-haired senshi took a pained breath and opened her
mouth, but no words came out.
The odango-haired blonde beamed. Usagi's smile was so bright it nearly
blinded the older senshi. "You don't have to tell me," she whispered. "I can
see how much this means to you now."
"What?" Haruka stood up and stared at the pages. "Did I miss something?"
Usagi placed the locket on top of the folder. "Make your music. And when
you're all done with it, maybe then you'll be able to break the code of
silence."
Michiru looked at her with shining eyes. "I...I..."
"Make your beautiful music," Usagi repeated. She looked at the
clock. "It's getting late."
--Flatly and excitedly-the change in Usagi's emotions is too quick and confuses me.
"I'll give you a ride, neko-chan," Haruka said, leading Usagi out the
door.
The girl looked up one last time. "Usagi-chan?"
"Yes?"
"You have no idea what this means to me."
"You'd be surprised." Usagi winked and practically danced out the door.
* * * * * * * * *
Haruka waited until she was about a mile away from the house to finally
ask questions.
"So why did you let her use the song?" she asked, staring out at the road.
"Because she was writing the music for someone she loved."
A slender neck snapped around. "Who?" she asked suspiciously.
"Her mother."
"Her . . . mother . . . but how did you . . . why would you. . . ."
"I just knew," Usagi shrugged. Haruka let out a low whistle and turned
back to the road.
When they finally arrived at Usagi's house, the clouds had rolled out and
the sky was pink as the last beams of sunlight faded away. Haruka opened
Usagi's door and stared at the sunset.
"It's pretty," Haruka said carefully, struggling to say what had been on
her mind since she'd watched Usagi and Mamoru argue that afternoon.
"Haruka-san...?"
"Let me tell you something, Usa-chan," Haruka said seriously. "The sun
sets, but it'll rise tomorrow morning. Things change. Nothing ever stays the
same."
She knew Haruka was talking about Usagi's relationship with Mamoru. "What
do you mean, Haruka-san?"
The girl got back into the car and started the ignition. "I guess what
I'm trying to say," Haruka said slowly, "is that the only things that last
forever are the things you can't see with your eyes or touch with your hands."
And she drove off into the sunset.
Something smiled in the darkness.
* * * * * * * * * *
Email: tennyo@home.com