When Haruka wakes, Michiru is gone.
This isn't the first time this has happened. Michiru always wakes before Haruka, but normally she's doing something mundane: making breakfast, drinking tea, putting the finishing touches on a painting in the little room she uses as a studio/practice room. On this particular morning, she's nowhere to be found.
The green-haired woman is a quiet person, and yet without her, the house is eerily silent. Hotaru is staying with a friend; Haruka hasn't been alone here in quite some time. Haruka forms a hypothesis early on, one that is confirmed when she opens the door to the garage. The Bentley is gone. Michiru hates driving.
There's no note, but there wasn't the first time, either, back when they barely knew each other, back when they still held each other at arms' distance out of the ill-conceived notion that doing so would make it possible to sacrifice the other if it came to it. That turned out to be impossible. There is no Haruka without Michiru.
That first time, Haruka was out of her mind with worry. They were teenagers. They had schedules – school, painting classes, violin lessons, driving lessons, races. They always knew where the other was. She'd searched the café they'd frequented then, the art studio where Michiru painted, the school grounds at Mugen Gakuen, before the answer came to her in a blinding flash.
The Ferrari revs to life with a soft, lulling purr, as it always does. Haruka isn't worried this time. Worried isn't the right word. She knows what to expect, now, but that, in some ways, makes it harder.
The drive isn't long. They'd purposefully chosen their house here, so they could easily find their way to the Inner Senshi if necessary. The scenery flies by, Tokyo in all its overcrowded glory. Neither of them loves Tokyo, but they don't mind it, either. Just the night before, they spoke of finding another house further away, secluded, where they can spend their time with each other and their daughter without interruption.
Interruptions are their way of life.
The ocean is a deep blue. A storm seems to be coming; the wind is whipping through the air, pushing Haruka to her goal as it always has. She can taste the salt of the sea in it. It tastes like her lover often does.
She slows as she comes to a sandier spot, where they've often gone before, and parks the car behind the Bentley. Haruka can see her in the distance. Michiru is hard to miss. The sand gives way under her shoes as she treks across the landscape. There is a flash in the distance. Michiru must have the mirror out. It feels as though a heavy weight is slowly settling on Haruka's shoulders. Weariness seeps into her bones. It hasn't been that long since the last time this happened.
Michiru doesn't turn as Haruka approaches. The mirror is in her hand, her skirts and hair billowing out toward the sea. She's beautiful. Haruka knows this. She's seen people stop in their tracks to stare open-mouthed at the incredible beauty of her girlfriend, seen the envy in their eyes, seen the way they covet her looks. But still, there are moments, like this one, when her loveliness strikes Haruka anew again, and Haruka can barely breathe.
Haruka slips her arms around Michiru's waist from behind, and Michiru settles into them easily. Her head rests atop the billowing hair, and she breathes deep. The mirror tells her no secrets. She cannot see the truth in it, but she can see Michiru's face, and the sadness that lines it.
Haruka can't say for certain how much time passes. It is cold, but not enough to bother. Michiru rarely seems to feel cold this close to the ocean, anyway. They stand there, breathing in each other, until the moment shifts, and Haruka finds the words she's been thinking tumbling out of her mouth. "What is it, this time?"
Michiru shrugs, her eyes shifting from the mirror out to the ocean. "I can't say for certain," she murmurs. "It's all still murky. But, there's something."
Haruka sighs, shifting her arms to clasp Michiru tighter. "There always is."
"Hmmm," Michiru hums, turning around. "Yes, but we can always hope. Maybe this time…"
"Maybe," Haruka agrees.
Michiru settles back into her arms, her face pressed to Haruka's chest. The mirror disappears. Things will likely go as they always do. Michiru will call Rei when they get back, and the two will commiserate on the things they've seen before they speak to their respective groups. Some time will pass, but not much. The wind will start to speak to Haruka, too, but never as strongly as the ocean calls to her lover, who won't be able to sleep.
And then a new battle will begin.
For now, they stand by the sea as the wind whips around them, and ward off the coming doom with the strength of their partnership.