She didn't want to be cleaning the music hall, but neither could she think of a good reason to tell his coworker he should go ahead and miss his daughter's birthday party.

She could just keep her head down. It wasn't as if Michiru would speak to her anyhow, even if she did see her, even if she did notice her. She probably wouldn't even notice. Haruka steeled her heart against the thought. She wouldn't notice because Haruka was just the help, and she didn't see them as people, and her conduct with Haruka had pretty well proven that. Being mad at her was the right choice, the only choice.

She mopped the floor emphatically.

Mina had been so mad when Haruka told her she felt bad for Michiru. She's not 'lost' Haruka. She's a terrible person.

But Haruka couldn't help but think that there was something in Michiru's eyes, just like in hers. The loneliness of a child who never got enough affection, who desperately wanted it. And Haruka had been luckier than Michiru, she reasoned, having found Mina and dedicating herself to making sure she got ahead and now they had a little family and Haruka wasn't lonely anymore. Michiru never got that.

Mina had just rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

And she was right, probably. Mina was a lot smarter than she was. She'd been right about Michiru not really loving her.

The thought still stung, even as happy as she was now.

She smiled as she thought of her girlfriend. Beautiful and happy, she held Haruka tight and whispered how much she loved her and packed her little lunches when she slept over. They went to Target and bought Haruka sweaters and she'd even gotten a gold one with little pink whales on for herself. Haruka liked it so much.

She wrung out the mop and started back to the locker room of the music hall. It wasn't her normal building, not her normal people, and so it felt a little odd as she strolled in to the break room, where a string bean of a new hire sat around a table and picked at a violin case with a pair of pliers.

"She's a bitch anyway." He poked at the lock. "I could sell this thing for a million dollars if I can just get into it. We've gotta," His face twisted in a grimace as the lock evaded him again, "wrest power from the oligarchy by any means necessary."

A grey haired man with a full mustache sat across from him, placid as he watched his young coworker. "I mean, I appreciate the Marxist philosophy here, but I don't think stealing a rich girl's violin is the way to unseat the nation."

"Well, at least I could buy a better class of lunchmeat."

Haruka walked over to the table. "You're gonna get fired."

"Oh," The grey-haired man took a sip of his coffee. "He'll never get into it."

"Yes I will!"

Haruka looked down at the bulletproof case. The small tag was done in such a shade of teal that she didn't even need to read the name. "Did you take it?"

"She left it." He threw down the pliers in disgust. "A million dollar violin, just sitting there."

"That's not the—" She stopped herself. Why would she know that Michiru never took her performance violin to class, just a hand-built violin her parents had bought her as a practice instrument? It could only be worth several hundred thousand."….thing you should be doing," she exited from the sentence gracelessly, "I mean, where are you gonna sell it? Pawn shop's not gonna give you shit for it."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Guess I'll just take it to the lost and found."

"I'll take it." She casually offered. "I gotta go by there on my way out anyways."


It was a dumb idea. Most of her ideas were, she thought.

She adjusted her sweater nervously as she walked up to the apartment building with the violin in hand. She hadn't felt right leaving it, even as much as she'd teased that kid, somebody would steal it and sell it, and it was Michiru's violin, that wasn't right. That she could buy another without a second thought was irrelevant.

But she wasn't sure she wanted to talk to Michiru again. To feel small.

She punched in the code at the front door—Haruka had a good memory for motion, Michiru really should be more careful when she's doing these things. That their apartment building had no lock at all didn't occur to her. What in the building would people possibly want to steal?

She slowly made her way up the stairs. It was a neat building, a converted factory, like a lot of the rich people like to live in, wide and open and full of real brick. The wrought iron was heavy and dark, curling into whispered secrets in a language only the night knew. Like Michiru herself, it was beautiful and offputting, a delicate strangeness about it.

The light was glowing under her door, and Haruka held her breath as she knocked. She would just shove the violin into her hands and go. She wouldn't even let her talk. She'd go home, and have some of that cake Tani made for her, and maybe watch a movie. Maybe Tani'd come over and they could cuddle.

But she was forced to let the breath out as the wait for an answer grew longer and longer. She knocked again, harder. Michiru must be in her studio, painting. Sometimes she could get lost in it, in the way the colors blended together and the feel of the paintbrush. It had been fun to watch, it was the only time she saw her guard drop even slightly, that she knew something else was in there, something quiet and yearning and lonely.

Still nothing.

"Michiru?" Her voice was too muffled, but the words had barely come out in the first place. She knocked again, her voice regaining strength. "Michiru, I have your violin. You left it at the school."

For a moment, Haruka considered simply leaving it there. She'd find it in the morning. Everything would be fine.

Haruka had never been the kind of person people would have described as intuitive. She had all the untapped psychic ability of a pile of bricks, by Mina's teasing and her own admission. And yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it was wrong of her to go. That there was a reason she was standing here in the dark, and that it was deeply important she hand the violin to Michiru herself.

It was a dumb idea. Most of her ideas were.

But still she knocked again. "Michiru? Just answer the door, we don't even have to talk." She paused. "I don't even really want to talk."

Against her better judgement, she slowly turned the knob. It yielded easily to her touch, only a slight creak as the door swung open into the apartment.

The TV was on but appeared unwatched, two empty bottles of wine on the counter, and the charred remains of what must have been an attempt at making a grilled cheese sandwich. Michiru's coat lay on the floor, crumpled into a pile. Haruka set down the violin at the doorway, and shut the door behind her, the sound of it echoing through the cavernous apartment.

"Michiru?" She sounded like a scared child. "Are you here?"

She walked slowly toward Michiru's studio, dark and dim. She flipped on a light and poked her head in, unsure of what she wanted to see.

Every painting had been gashed through, strips of color littering the floor like a ticker-tape parade, her paints coalesced into one puddle in a large garbage can, her brushes broken in half and scattered on the floor.

"No, Michi," She bent down to touch a strip of a painting, one of her favorites, the one with a goldfish that looked like it was swimming, even as a still frame. "These were so beautiful."

She turned toward the living room sadly, and as her eyes rose to the end of the room, she saw her.

Lying on the ground, her arm stretched out over her head, teal curls tumbling forward onto the patterned area rug. Spiritless and pooling as her paints.

Haruka had not run hurdles in many years, and yet she cleared the chair easily as she dove to Michiru's side.

"Michiru!" She shook her shoulder indelicately, but there was no reply. "Michiru!"

The coffee table held a half-drank glass of wine and a spilled bottle of confetti-colored pills. Haruka looked over at it despairingly.

"Michiru, I told you this stuff was gonna hurt you!" She brushed the hair away from Michiru's face. She was still breathing, but only just. Haruka rand a hand through her hair, unsure of what to do. "Oh god, Michiru."

She scooped her up into her arms and ran toward the bathroom, starting up the large shower with cool water. Was this what you were meant to do? Haruka wasn't sure. She rubbed Michiru's shoulders aggressively. "Michiru, please, please wake up." She flicked some cool water on her face. "Please don't do this."

Haruka dug her cell phone out of her pocket and pressed it to her ear. "Please, you need to hurry! She took something, I don't know what, but it was too much." She looked down at Michiru's milk-pale face, her breathing seemingly even slower now. "Michiru, come on, please don't do this." She jiggled her in her arms as if comforting an ill child. "It can't be that bad, c'mon."

She splashed a little more water on her face. "You need to come now! I think she's dying."

The drone of the shower faded into white noise as Haruka waited.


It had been monumentally embarrassing, and she was quite certain her family would never recover from the shame, which was, in itself, a bit of a comfort.

Of course it had been unintentional, she explained, simply too many long nights and she had tried a shortcut to get some sleep—ill-advised, really, but you know, the inexperience of youth and all. Haruka had not been wise enough to hide the evidence before assisting her. She knew so little of society.

Everyone believed her. What could she possibly have to be upset about? She was a top violinist, she was beautiful and wealthy, and could expect to marry well.

And besides, it was true. She hadn't been meaning to die. She hadn't notbeen meaning to die either, but that was hardly a part of the question.

She wasn't even sure why Haruka had saved her. If she had seen Haruka lying stabbed in the street, she very likely would have moved right along as she bled into the gutter. But yes, she did know the answer.

Haruka was good.

Good in a way that had always confused her, in a way that was absolutely without artifice or agenda. Good in a way that frightened her, and, the longer she sat in this hospital room, inspired her. She wanted to rest in that light, to bask in its warmth, and suddenly it no longer mattered what her family would think, or her friends, she simply longed to be near Haruka for always.

She could grow in the light of her love.

Clearly she had done some damage during this whole incident, she thought mockingly, but there was a smile on her face still. Haruka would come to visit her, of course she would, and when she did, Michiru would tell her, tell her everything, and she would paint again, in rich, bold, brave tones, with Haruka at her side.

As if on cue, there was a knock at her door. Hidden behind a small bouquet of cheap flowers, tied with a teal ribbon, was Haruka. "Can I come in?"

Michiru smoothed her hair unconsciously. "Why of course, you are my savior after all."

"Naw, I just…showed up." She tucked the bouquet against the others in the corner, small and sparse next to the floral-laden vases. "Heh. Guess I should have brought something else."

"No," Michiru shook her head, "The new addition is my favorite."

"I'm glad you're okay." Haruka looked over at her tenderly, as if she were an abandoned baby rabbit.

"Haruka, we must talk." She patted the bed next to her. "Come sit."

Haruka owed her nothing, and had promised her no allegiance, but still she came and sat next to her on the bed.

"Haruka, I've made a terrible mistake." She placed her hand on hers, but looked away. "You must forgive me, I've lived in this world for so long I scarcely realize that there is anything outside of it. This is all so new and frightening to me. I am as a child who has spent her who life indoors, shirking at the sunshine."

"It's okay." She wasn't sure what all of that meant, but it sounded apologetic.

"No. It's far from." She looked back at Haruka. 'I have treated you so cruelly, and I regret nothing else more. And yet, here you are, even still. You are like nothing I've ever encountered." She took Haruka's chin in her fingers and looked right into her eyes. "I love you, Haruka. I do. It's terrifying and exhilarating."

"Uh, I."

"Come live with me, and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove. Haruka, I will treat you to all the wondrous things of the world, and I will take you with me in every avenue. I will never be ashamed. I promise all these things to you, and Mina, I promise to tolerate her and treat her to fine things as well. Meals and clothes and vacations and even her schooling."

"Michiru, you don't gotta give me—"

"I know, I know, I simply long to treat you." She sat up straight,, and clutched haruka's hands, smiling. "I will kiss you and love you and show you around to every human being I have ever met. If these delights thy mind may move, then live with me, and be my love." She smiled sweetly at the learned verse.

"Michiru, I'm in love with someone else. You're really pretty, and great!" She took a hand to her shoulder, trying to comfort Michiru's crestfallen face. "But I…Tani and I are really happy. I can't just, we had our thing."

Michiru smiled sadly. "Of course." She nodded. "I understand." She took a deep breath. "This is my error." She squeezed Haruka's hand. "I want you to be overwhelmingly happy." She was surprised to find it was true.

"Michiru?" There was a knock at the door. Her parents stood, as imposing as ever, and it was as if a thin sheet of ice had settled over the room.

Michiru sat up straight. "Mother, Father, this is Haruka. Haruka, these are my parents."

Haruka stood up and shook their hands, and her father appraised her. "Of course! This is the young lady who did so much for us. How charming."

Haruka smiled and rubbed the back of her neck. "It wasn't really—"

"Nonsense." He drew out a checkbook. "We owe you a debt." He wrote down a sum, and her mother peeked over his shoulder.

"Oh, Ken, more than that, don't be miserly."

He sighed, but wrote out another check, presenting it to Haruka. "With our gratitude for your assistance. And discretion."

Discretion. She hated the word. Haruka looked down at the check. Two hundred thousand dollars. She took in a sharp breath. "This is too—no, I mean, thank you." She put it in her pocket, but looked sadly up at Michiru. No wonder she thought she could buy people's lives. "I'm so sorry, Michiru," and she slipped out of the hospital disappearing for the last time from Michiru's doorway.

Michiru knew exactly what she was apologizing for.

And yet, even without Haruka's sunshine, she would find a way to grow. She would find her own.