Disclaimer: Takeuchi owns. I borrow and love.
Beta: rinhonjou at LJ, all remaining mistakes are completely my own.
Notes: Takes place before the start of the S season, but after the events depicted in episode 106 of the anime. An inner monologue on Michiru's part, inspired by Katsuki Masako's beautiful, haunting voice.
Imagine that Haruka and Michiru didn't become lovers right away...
Senshi no Omoi
Feelings of a Soldier
Why are you still running?
If I were to ask you directly, you'd tell me you didn't know what I'm talking about, but I'm perfectly well aware that you'd recognise the meaning of my question right away. Even though you pretend not to care, I know that the fuku alone doesn't satisfy you. You know there's something more waiting for you. You just don't want to acknowledge what it is.
You've started dreaming about me… I'm not sure how I can be so certain of that. Perhaps I've started dreaming about you as well. Not your alter ego, not Uranus, but you. In these dreams there is no Silence. There's only you and your footprints in the sand, swallowed up by the waves in places.
Maybe I know by the way you've started avoiding my eyes when we are mere civilians, not super heroines and representatives of a Kingdom long gone…
Sometimes you forget that you are not supposed to like what I allow you to catch glimpses of when our gazes meet – that's when touching you causes my blood to run so fast through my veins that it physically hurts… Actually, it feels as if my blood is trying to catch up with you in those moments (the seconds following one of those electrical touches) until you remember that you've ventured into forbidden territory and then start running all over again.
You told Elza that you've stopped running. She believed you, but I know the truth. I think you do too.
What are you afraid of, Haruka-san?
I was telling the truth when I said that I probably know you better than you know yourself. Because I never stop watching you, not even when you refuse to pay me any attention; not even when your turn your back on me after yet another battle and walk away with a wound you won't let me tend.
You're too strong for your own good.
Most likely, you think that letting me step any closer to you would count as a weakness – a sign of you needing help. Fact is… neither of us needs help, you know. I lived as a soldier for almost a year before I finally found you. Admittedly, it was a lonely life, but I survived and would have survived for much longer, had it been required of me. After all, it is the path I've chosen, and I'm far too stubborn to give up once I've made up my mind. If you don't already know that, you will find out eventually.
You can't shake me off, no matter how fast you run and how hard you try.
Nonetheless, distance is your greatest defence. A defence closely related to your element. Having grown up with it, I respect distance – the polite distance that is acquired in a world where flattery is only a mean of you reminding others that you're the one in control; the one in power. Yes, my father has raised me very well in this aspect, but your distance is of another kind than mine. I keep my distance, because deep inside I'm a realist and probably a cynic as well. I've seen the wickedness of mankind and don't want to associate myself with it, since it conflicts with everything that pleases my sense of aesthetics.
Your distance, on the other hand, is a safety distance. It's a way for you to protect the soft heart beating so defiantly, hidden away underneath your armour of coolness; the coldness of your home planet.
Solitude is perhaps the only thing you're not trying to escape. Destiny, yes, although you know she's right at your heels, but Solitude, no. I ought to be jealous of Solitude by the way you embrace her so earnestly, but all I can feel is frustration.
Do you really think I don't know how you feel?
Honto…
Between the two of us, you're the romantic. You would hate me for pointing this out, but it's the truth. You despise idealists, and yet you dream of a better world just like they do. What separates you from the common idealist is not your objective… No, rather it is your way of obtaining your goal; the means you're willing to use. Racing has taught you not to fear getting your hands dirty, so whereas an idealist would say she had principles, making her unable to sacrifice innocents and innocence itself, you will stop at nothing to make sure your mission is fulfilled.
That's what makes you perfect, I guess.
The problem is…
The problem is that even if we weren't destined, I would still want you. When it all comes down to it, it's not really destiny that has made me crave your company, but rather I have grown fond of the person I am when I'm with you. Like I told your tall, teal-eyed messenger back when you were still a vague memory coming back to me, I'm not someone who feels threatened by any sort of fate. I believe in the power of choices, and if my "destiny" and my choices don't match, then my free will comes out victorious any day.
No, I don't want you because we're destined to be, even though we are exactly that. I have chosen you, because you are who you are… You're my choice.
People call you handsome, assured that a word as limited as that can cover your charisma. They call me beautiful, but really it should be the other way around. You possess a beauty that is as untouchable as the wind itself. Fitting, ne?
Demo… even the wind needs a companion, wouldn't you agree?
I know what your opinion on this matter is, of course. Your answer would be no.
Your answer… was… no…
Yesterday you told me that you believe love is a handicap. You… the romantic at heart… told me that in the end, love is an Achilles' heel…
It started out as one of our playful discussions; a ping-pong game of words that I only ever enjoy with you, because you can catch up with my trail of thoughts more easily than anyone I've met before. It ended up being a dead end that may prove to be either the final conclusion on us… or the beginning.
When you said it you looked away like you do more often than not these days, your eyes following a girl walking by outside. You made a careless comment about her dress (pretty) and her legs (endless) and I smiled, because it is a game we've played since day one. A game neither of us will ever win. Flirting is a sport to us and we're both competitive, but I quickly discovered that anything outside the box of suggestiveness makes you step back.
"Maybe there's more to her than her pretty dress and endless legs," I said in response. Your smirk faltered. It's a pity, because you're very attractive when you smirk – attractive in a way that makes it impossible to question why girls swoon over you wherever you go.
Involving the heart means giving the enemy an advantage and therefore also leaving yourself at a disadvantage.
Wasn't this exactly what you answered me? The literal wording…?
Your voice was huskier than usual when you said it, as if uttering this phrase in particular pained you. I know you're no more of a blushing virgin when it comes to relationships than I am. My first was Elza. Your first, I believe, was a girl named Nakano Yuhka…
So we both knew what was at stake… is at stake. We both know how it feels… to love. At this point in the conversation we were equals, and the scales were balanced.
Then we both exposed our blades:
"Love doesn't need to be a limitation. It can be a strength."
"Coming from someone who has made it a point not to socialise, that's pretty hypocritical."
Your lips curled upwards in a smile again as you said this, but your eyes were hard as stone, shoving me away…
I hate being demeaned and you know it.
My only reply was to pay for our dinner and allow you to drive me home.
We both have sharp edges, I thought as I clung to you on the back of your motorcycle, the street lights of inner Tokyo reflecting in your helmet as they passed by in a blur of gold. Edges so sharp that we cut even ourselves when lashing out after others; including each other. However, yesterday was the first time you consciously tried hurting me, warning me not to push you any further, because you had reached your limit. The problem is, though, that your limit stops a heartbeat away from the finishing line.
I recall the first thing you said to me after transforming into Sailor Uranus that day so many months ago… you told me that you'd made your choice. Do you remember?
But you haven't chosen me. Not yet.
No matter what you may think, Haruka-san, love doesn't have to be disability… Did you know that in ancient Greece, soldiers were encouraged to engage in romantic relationships with one another? The idea was that when in battle, they would fight their best, knowing that the man next to them – who was both their friend and their love – could end up dead as a result of failure. Each and every soldier would go to war with this knowledge, aware of this risk; his lover among them. Both of them would fight with all their strength to keep each other safe, realising that the consequence of losing would be unbearable. As such the soldier's love worked as his sword and his shield simultaneously.
Love can be your greatest defence… I know. Because… because…
Maa, I was never such a dreamer before I met you, Haruka-san; Senshi of Dreams…
… Senshi…
Both of us are soldiers. Sailor Senshi. There's no turning back to a normal life in which that part of our identity doesn't exist anymore. I told you this. You were given the choice to walk away from it, but didn't. You've already chosen to be my sword and my shield…
You just need to let me return the favour.
Haruka…
Why are you still running?
