Still don't own it. I do have to note that this is a parody, however, so obviously I am going to make ridiculous jokes, deconstruct some things, and perhaps lampshade certain things.
When they arrived back at their apartment, they both detransformed, Haruka noting to her displeasure that she was still a Daimon. She looked down at her body, which had gone quiet and still; though the silence was nice, she did worry; internally, she wondered if her body had died.
"You know," Michiru said, placing the Space Sword down, "I bet when we get you back into your normal body, the sword would let you hold it. It did come out of you, after all." She said this casually, though Haruka knew she was just as worried about the condition of her body.
Haruka looked at her with an amused sigh, trying to lighten the mood. "Michiru, you're making it sound like I had a baby or something."
Her violinist girlfriend blinked, looked up at the ceiling, and smirked. "That's not such a bad idea," she said. "Once we get you back into your normal body, then maybe..."
"No." Haruka cut her off. "No, Michiru. Just no."
"I know," the artist said, grinning now. "Did you really believe that I would make you do such a thing?"
"You've made me do ridiculous things before. Like last week." Haruka scratched her head with her non-bow hand.
"Oh? And what did I make you do last week?"
Haruka shuddered and said, "Remember dress-up?"
"Ah." Michiru nodded, staring at her. Her eyes fell on the displaced racer's bow-hand. "Do you think I could play you?" she asked.
"Play me...?" Haruka repeated, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Like this. Here," the violinist said, moving behind her lover. Gently, she grabbed the bow that served as one of Haruka's hands and ran it across the strings, producing a low note.
"Mm, Michiru. That feels good," Haruka said, closing her eyes. Amused by her lover's reaction, Michiru continued to play.
Hearing the moans that came from his upstairs neighbors, Ikari Akira mumbled, "Kids these days, breeding like rabbits... how'd they even get their parents to let them live together?"
"Oh man, Michiru," Haruka said, collapsing onto the couch and slightly out of breath. "We should do that more often if I'm going to be stuck in this body for a while."
Michiru giggled. "Ara, is that better than sex?"
Haruka looked down at her violin-shaped torso. "I would say 'why don't we find out,' but I have the odd feeling that this body isn't built that way."
There were four light knocks on the door to their apartment, and a sad voice said, "Michiru-san? Are you there?"
"It's Usagi-tachi," Haruka said quietly. "I'll go hide in our bedroom."
"Take your body while you're at it," Michiru said, looking down at the body. "I don't think they would take kindly to walking in and seeing a corpse."
Haruka chuckled, hoisting her body's hand up with the bow and grabbing it. "When you're done pretending to be a depressed widow, just tell me and I'll come out."
"Of the closet?"
The displaced racer glared at her. "I think my sexual orientation is rather obvious, but if Usagi-tachi haven't figured it out by now, I'm not telling them."
"You know I'm only joking." Michiru smiled elegantly. "I'll be back."
Dragging her body, Haruka walked into their room and locked the door. Turning her body awkwardly so that the violin wouldn't bump against the door, she pressed an ear to it to hear what they were saying.
"Oh, hello, Usagi-tachi. How are you doing?"
"Michiru-san, we heard about... about Haruka-san."
A depressed sigh. "I know. Here, why don't you all sit down. I'll make some tea for you."
"Michiru-san, please let me do it. You've just lost someone very important to you. I'll do it. Do you want me to make some food too?"
"No thank you, Mako-chan. Tea would be fine, thank you."
There were a few minutes of silence; evidently, Usagi-tachi didn't know what to say.
"Er, Michiru-san?" Makoto's voice came from the kitchen. "What...?"
"What is it?" Haruka could hear Michiru walking into the kitchen.
"You... have a sword... on your counter..."
"Oh shit," Haruka murmured. They had completely forgotten about it while they were playing. Inwardly, she wondered how Michiru was going to get out of this predicament.
She pressed her ear closer to the door, and began to hear tiny sniffles. "T-that's from... that's from when Haruka and I went cosplaying."
Haruka nearly choked on her spit. Cosplaying? Where had Michiru pulled that from? But apparently the lie had worked, and she could hear Makoto saying, "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Michiru. I didn't want to remind you of her..."
She could hear Michiru sobbing now; the violinist was very good at acting. In fact, Haruka thought, the violinist was good at just about everything. "It's okay, Mako-chan. Please, don't worry about it. I'll go put that up. Please, continue."
Metal clinked as the artist pulled the Space Sword off of the counter. When the light, elegant steps Haruka heard came close to the door, she unlocked it to let the violinist in, who didn't look teary at all. "You're a good actress," she said appreciatively as Michiru walked in. "If our roles were switched, I'd probably just act the way I usually do around them... flirty. I bet they would think that I've lost my mind."
"They wouldn't think that, dear. They'd probably just sign you up for therapy." She placed the sword on the bed, glancing at Haruka's body worriedly. "Okay, I'll be back."
"All right. I'll be here."
Night fell. The Inners had left several hours ago, though they had only left once Michiru had all but shoved them through the door. She was currently laying in their bed, but Haruka didn't know whether laying with her would be comfortable for the violinist. The displaced racer was made of wood now, after all.
"I know what you're thinking," Michiru said. Haruka smiled a little at that; her partner had always displayed some psychic power. "It really doesn't matter. Just come to bed."
"Won't you be uncomfortable?" she asked tenderly. "I do want you to be able to sleep, you know."
"It doesn't matter," the violinist said softly. "As long as you're next to me, I'll be fine."
Sighing, Haruka finally gave in and slid awkwardly under the blanket, wrapping her one hand around Michiru's stomach.
"As long as you're with me... no matter what form you're in," Michiru added. Then she looked at the Senshi of Wind over her shoulder. "Don't get me wrong. I do miss my beautiful blonde Haruka, but I suppose that you becoming a Daimon was a good thing, since you don't have to die to have the Talisman."
"Is that really how you look at it?" Haruka said quietly. Michiru was silent for a few moments.
"Sometimes I wish we didn't have to do this, Haruka." She answered by avoiding the question.
"Michiru..."
Michiru turned over onto her right side, fully facing her lover. "Do you think we would have met if we hadn't been senshi?"
Gently, the displaced racer pushed Michiru's aquamarine hair out of her face. "I like to think that no matter how far apart we were, or even if we were enemies, we would have found each other eventually."
"Mm." The violinist closed her eyes at Haruka's touch. "That's a nice thought."
"Even if we were cousins—"
"Okay, Haruka. That's going a little too far." She scowled playfully. "That was a nice thought until you brought up incest."
"I'm sorry! I was just proving a point!" She winced as Michiru glared at her. "I'm sorry, really. Forgive me?"
The look in the Carribean blue eyes she loved so much softened. "Of course. I always do. You know that."
She smiled, though she refrained from kissing Michiru, not knowing how she would react. "I love you," she said.
"I love you too. Good night, Haruka."
And with that last sentiment, they slept.
When Michiru opened her eyes, the first thing she said was, "There will be a Daimon attack at some love contest in the park today."
"Another dream?" Haruka asked, not waiting for the answer. "You can go. People won't scream upon seeing you."
"What about you?"
"I'll follow you, but I'll stay hidden. I'll transform and come out—"
"Of the closet?"
"Enough of that, Michiru," she said with a smirk, chuckling. "Anyway, I'll transform if needed."
"That sounds good. I'll go take a shower. Could you be a dear and make breakfast?" Michiru batted her eyes at her lover, knowing Haruka couldn't resist that look.
"Guess so..." Haruka grumbled. "As long as you don't take an hour in there again. I don't want to have to drag you out again."
"You seemed fine with it before," Michiru noted.
"That was before I turned into a Daimon made of wood."
"Mah!" With, for once, no witty comebacks, Michiru walked into the bathroom.
Mantaray: Those are some very good points you bring up. Now that I'm thinking about it, I really want to start retconning the first two chapters to fit in with the points you make. I've attempted to help explain one of your points (shouldn't Michiru be more depressed?) as well as parodying it, because, as you know, this is a parody. But thank you for your criticism, nevertheless.
As usual, please R&R. Reviews make me a happy otaku.
