"Teach my soul to take this chance..."
--------------
A Simple Thing
Chapter VI - "Sun, Moon, and Stars"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
It wasn't until I got into my car and drove off, quite literally, into the
sunset that I realized how much I loved Kaioh Michiru. I don't know why I decided it
was love, or how it came to pass, but suddenly, I just KNEW.
I knew that I loved her.
Something about her was beautiful, passionate, and just...fulfilling. I
couldn't put my finger on what it was, and maybe that was because everything about
her seemed absolutely perfect. When she was near, I felt as though I was finally
complete. And that was a feeling I never wanted to lose.
My mind tried to reason with me. I was reminded of all the deja vu flashes,
all the funny visions that included Michiru as a part of them. Visions that I did
not understand. Visions that couldn't be explained. They were new, foreign,
something that I could not explain away. And it was going to Giakiin and meeting the
beautiful orchestra teacher, eccentric nurse, and mysterious freshman that had
triggered all those things.
But, for some reasons, they felt familiar. Almost good. It was as though
they made up for all the blanks in my memories that I, alone, could not fill.
Completion. The word haunted me.
I strode into my apartment and flicked on the kitchen light, my mind and
heart light. I was practically floating, because - for the very first time in my
life - I was really, truly in love. I mean, I had fooled around with men and women
before, playing with their hearts while they toyed with my own, but I had never
felt so downright WONDERFUL. All the flirting seemed insignificant, all the
fruitless dates pointless, all the meaningless kisses in the dark just that -
meaningless. I had finally found someone I could really care about!
And then, just as I put a pot of ramen on the stove to boil, I came crashing
back down into the reality that was my life in Tokyo. The here-and-now.
Michiru liked MEN.
Well, okay, so I had no proof. Absolutely none. But the chances were that
she just thought of me as a colleague and friend, not as a lover. I threw myself
into a chair and buried my head in my hands. What in the WORLD was I thinking?!
Michiru was practically a goddess. With her flowing aqua waves and her
bright, shining blue eyes, she looked more like a mermaid than a human being. There
was no one in the world more beautiful, kind, or graceful. She was...
Perfect was the only word that came to mind. She was perfect.
I remembered standing in the school yard with her, her hand on my arm as
she told me to be myself. Who else in the universe had been that open with me? No
one.
Okuno knew that I was a girl, but that was purely accidental. Early in my
journalistic career, I got really sick with the flu and called in, telling him that
I couldn't make it to the office. I must have sounded severely ill, because he
showed up at my door that evening with a few cans of chicken broth and a thermos
full of tea.
The look on his face when opened the door was enough to break someone's
heart. I was wearing a bathrobe, and it left NOTHING to the imagination. I sighed
and invited him in, and I explained everything. Like the fact that I preferred
women to men. Like the fact that it was easier for me to walk, talk, and act like
a male than it was for me to walk, talk, and act like a female.
That day, when we sat and I told him everything about myself, solidified my
relationship with Okuno forever. He became the older brother I had never had, a
positive male influence. It was refreshing to have someone to talk to.
But I had told him everything in an awkward situation. Had he not come in
and seen me in a revealing bathrobe and immediately known I was a woman, I would
have never even told him I was a female. I would have continued my charade forever.
And then, where would I be?
Michiru already knew that I was a woman. The easy part was over. It was the
rest - explaining to her how I felt, both about other women and about her - that
would be the difficult part.
I sighed, shaking my head.
How was I to tell Michiru - my sun, moon, and stars - that she wasn't just
a friend?
---
I woke up late on Saturday morning, having intentionally turned off both
my phone and alarm clock before bed. My "Michiru dilemma," as I was beginning to
call it, had kept me up nearly half the night, and I was grateful for the extra
sleep.
Upon waking, I reached for the phone and checked my voice mail at the
newspaper. There were three messages, and all of them were from my editor. The first
two were furious; Okuno was angry that I was bringing Michiru to the party that
night, and even angrier that I had shut off my home phone so that he wasn't be
able to call me. The third, however, was completely different.
"Listen, Ten'ou," he sighed, his voice filled with an odd twang of concern,
"I don't want you to be dealing with whatever demons you have on your own, okay?
I'm sorry if I've been destroying your relationship with this woman or something...
But I don't want you to be hurt. Call me if you get a chance this afternoon.
Otherwise, I'll talk to you tonight."
There was a pause, and he sighed again. "And ask yourself this, Haruka,"
he finally said after a bout of total silence. "Can you live without her?
"If the answer is no, then I give you the go-ahead to chase her."
I smiled at the beep that signaled the end of the message.
I went through my morning with the same relaxed pace that I normally did on
Saturdays. The day was warm and bright, the late morning sun peaking through my
windows and making bright little patterns on the hardwood floor. I tossed open the
doors to my balcony and strode out, gazing down on the city below me.
"An Indian summer," I mumbled to myself as an unusually warm breeze rustled
past me. Shoppers mulled about the sidewalk, their arms laden with bags, as children
played in the park across the street from my building. I watched the world go by,
oddly content.
The phone I had turned back on rang, and I growled softly to myself as I
walked back into my bedroom. "Okuno," I grumbled into the receiver, "you really have a
way of ruining a peaceful mo - "
"Haruka?"
My voice caught in my throat as soon as I heard her voice. "Sorry, Michiru,"
I responded embarassedly, mentally kicking myself for my lofty assumption that it was
Okuno on the other end. "I thought you were my editor."
She chuckled in her sweet little way, and once again, I felt myself floating
in place. What a lovely human being she was! "I was just wondering what the dress
code for this mysterious concert is," she informed me. I could imagine her warm smile.
Even across the phone line, it was intoxicating.
"Oh, right," I flushed, imagining an anime-style sweatdrop rolling down my
cheek. "It's a classical concert at the big hall, so..."
"I should go with 'mildly sexy,' then?" she teased.
I debated saying "definitely," but settled on "Sounds good" instead.
There was a pause, and I was just about to say my good-byes and hang up the
phone when Michiru began to speak a second time. "Haruka, may I ask a question of you?"
If ever my heart stopped beating, it was then. My mind reeled with what she
COULD be about to ask me. Had she figured out my feelings? Did she feel the same back
from me? Was I losing my mind? After all, she could be asking me about what shoes
I was wearing to the concert.
She swallowed. Hard. "Well, I know that you sometimes allow people to think
that you're a male," she began tentatively, her voice a bit shaky across the phone
line. "And I don't care what reason you have for doing it, because it doesn't bother
me at all. I was just curious... Are you a man at the newspaper, or no?"
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. There was something
very comforting in such a simple question. "With the exception of my editor, yes," I
told her. "Okuno is the only one I trust with such a... Well, with my secret."
"Yes. Your 'secret.'" She chuckled. "I wonder what it would have been like had
I not knowing you were a female from the start."
I frowned slightly. "I wonder the same thing," I responded quietly, not
mentioning how desperately, I wanted to be a man...for her.
---
The concert itself was wonderful, both for the music and for my companion of
the day. Michiru, of course, was radiant as ever, garbed in a blue-print dress that
swept down to her ankles. She seemed set on outdoing my khakis, dress shirt, and
blazer, too. Not that I was minded. She looked too good for me to take offence.
Afterwards, we hopped into my convertible, rolled down the top, and started
across the city toward the Daily office, where the party was being held.
For a moment or two, we sat in complete silence, Michiru staring out at the
buildings we passed. She looked thoughtful, almost as though she was distracted by
something, and I suddenly felt as though I had been ignoring her. We hadn't really
said much to one another on the way over, either.
"Penny for your thoughts?" I questioned, glancing at her out of the corner
of my eye. She gave a small start and gazed back at me, her eyes as beautiful as
ever. She considered me silently for a moment before saying anything.
Then, she pursed her lips. "We're friends, right?" she asked quietly.
I nodded, a bit surprised by the question. "Of course, Michiru," I answered,
smiling at her. For some reason, the question reminded me of elementary school, when
all my friends and I would sit around and double-check our relationships at recess.
"Then can I ask you a question?" came her next inquiry.
I smiled again, reassuring her. What was the worst thing she could ask? "Sure,
Michiru," I replied with a shrug. "Shoot. I promise I won't bite or anything."
She chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Then, her visage
became serious, as though one moment of good had been replaced with years and years
of bad. "Haruka... Why do you sometimes pretend to be male?"
For a moment, it took all the will-power I had not to slam on the brakes in
the middle of the road. Of all the things she COULD have asked, I hadn't expected that
one. My heart raced, my stomach churned, my hands turned cold and clammy.
I remembered sitting in my living room with Okuno and explaining everything
to him. Could I do the same with Michiru?
"It's a long story," I warned her. "And it's not a pretty one, either."
She wet her pink lips, and then smiled. "It's alright," she responded. "I
want to hear it. I've wanted to hear it since the first day I met you."
I sighed. Here went nothing.
---
All my life, I had been the tall kid, the thin kid, the girl who could outrun
each and every one of the boys in the class, even when giving them a ten-second head
start. My parents were both very busy with work; my father was a sales representative
for a technology broker and was always traveling around the country, and my mother
was the manager of a busy American restaurant in the middle of Tokyo's business
district. Neither of them really had much time for me, and I didn't mind it; I liked
being alone.
From the very beginning, I never much acted like a girl. My hobbies were
playing team sports in the park with friends and watching motocross races on
television. During the summer, when my female classmates were going to the swimming
pool or playing jump rope and hopscotch, I was racing across town on my bicycle, my
friends in tow. We played pick-up games of baseball and field hockey wherever there
was green space - the park, empty lots, even the rooftops of our respective apartment
building.
I hit puberty HARD at about eleven, and it suddenly wasn't "cool" for all the
boys I spent time with to play with girls. Unfortunately, I had already ostracized
myself from every female I knew, and it made my life a living Hell. All my male friends
were destroyed, and I didn't have any female ones. What was a girl to do?
So, instead of lamenting about having no one, I joined a small track circuit
that was run out of my junior high school. We traveled everywhere - Kobe, Kyoto,
Osaka, Sendai - just to compete. All my years of running around had finally paid off,
and by the age of twelve, I was the star of the adolescent track world. Not that it
mattered too terribly, because the rest of my life was failing.
Kiboko took up all my parents' free time, and when they weren't busy trying
to care for her, I was usually out of town. I didn't enjoy talking with them - I didn't
enjoy talking to ANYONE - and so making friends was hard for me. I eventually got sick
of coping with them, and I used the prize money from my track life to find a tiny
place to live on my own. Kiboko died a year after I moved out.
Living on my own was an eye-opener. My prize money - my only means of
sustenance - started to disappear. I didn't know what to do!
I began to hang around the F-1 race track, which was only a short walk from
my apartment. There, I would stand by the fence and watch the giant cars speed by,
the sound deafening to my young ears. I was fourteen.
One day, when I was standing and watching the cars alone, a man walked up to
me. "What you doing here, boy?" he questioned.
Boy? I furrowed my brow. I wasn't a boy! And then, I realized that I COULD be.
Why not? My hair was cut short enough, and my frame was too thin to have any real
feminine curves.
So I smiled at him, trying not to be TOO charming, and said, "I like watching
the cars."
"Know anything about cars?"
I nodded earnestly. "I've read up on them, and I watch the crews all the time!"
I replied, excited to have someone talking to me. I told him everything I knew about
F-1 racers and even other race cars, and when I was done, he smiled at me.
"What's your name?"
"Haruka."
He had a towel around his neck, and he tossed it to me. I caught it, completely
perplexed. What was he doing?
"Guess what, Haruka. You're the team's new gopher. See you tomorrow."
Besides putting me right up next to the action, being the team gopher was a
well-paid position. Unfortunately, racing was a man's job, and I found myself assuming
the identity of a male more and more frequently. Everyone was fooled. I could belch
like a man, walk like a guy, talk like a boy, and do everything else that was required
of me. Better than that, the bathroom was a single unisex stall, and so I never had
to worry about being caught by going into the "wrong" washroom.
I started getting to test-drive before races, and eventually ended up in the
driver's seat. The men on the racing team said it was the natural evolution of an
F-1 racer. Start at the very bottom, and work your way up. It was a good life.
On off-season weekends, the team members and I would go dirt-bike racing on
a track just outside of Tokyo. I made a lot of acquaintances that way. Not friends,
but acquaintances. For some reason, I felt as though I couldn't share anything with
these men. I'd been pretending to be one of them, pretending to be completely male,
for far too long. It had been two years since my initial employment with the team,
and I was now sixteen years old. If ever it was too late for me to introduce the
REAL Ten'ou Haruka, the FEMALE Ten'ou Haruka, it was now.
So I kept my hair cut short. I kept my mannerisms masculine. I kept... I kept
playing the game.
And, by time I quit racing, it was too late for me to go back.
---
I finished my life story just as we pulled into the Daily parking lot. I had
more-or-less planned it that way, making a few unnecessary turns along the way to
assure that I would have enough time to explain my worldly woes. Michiru was an
attentive listener, her eyes focused on me the entire time, her face understanding
and filled with compassion.
We silently clambered out of my car, and I found myself staring her down in
the middle of the pavement. "Uhm... That's it," I finally finished, having left off
at an odd interval. Perhaps that was why she was being so quiet. Because I hadn't
really concluded the story.
Wordlessly, she closed the gap between us, standing scant inches away from
me. My heart skipped a beat. I willed myself to remain as calm as humanly possible
and to wait for her next move. It seemed to me that her life goal consisted of
surprising me. Constant surprise. It was the one key she had.
"I don't want you to ever hide when you're with me," she informed me, point-
blank. An accusatory finger poked me in the center of my chest. HARD, too. For a
small, graceful thing, she was a brute. "I want you to tell me when things are wrong,
when you need a friend, and even when you don't. It's not fair that you have to cry
alone, Haruka. You need someone in your life. Everyone does."
I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat. "And you're volunteering for the
position?" I asked breathlessly, wondering how much stock I should take in her words.
Was it an offer or a joke?
She smiled gently. "Of course, Haruka," she responded, her voice like silken
honey. "That's what I'm here for."
I couldn't argue with that.
---
"Haruka brought a girl with him!"
"Someone mark this date on the calendar!"
"Not only did Ten'ou finally get a girl, but she's a hot one! Yeouch!"
"When's the wedding, man?"
I strode into the Tokyo Daily just as I expected - the most popular "man" in
the room. High fives and handshakes flew at me from all over, and that was excluding
the massive heckling. I made my way through the milling journalists, smiling and
laughing with them, Michiru following me the entire way.
Okuno was standing in a corner as he did a most large gatherings, flirting
with the purple-haired arts editor. I rarely talked to Fuki; she was a bit too dark and
"alternative" for me to handle. I silently wondered what would be like to put her
in a room with Megumi; after all, don't matter and antimatter explode when they collide?
"Ten'ou showed up, now did he?" scoffed Okuno, moving from his attempted
conquest to clap me on the back a few times. His smile lit up, and I could tell that
he was glad to see me, alive and well. Then, he moved to glance at Michiru. "And is
this the lovely Kaioh-san, the woman you've told me so much about?"
Michiru bowed politely in his direction, something I don't think I had ever
seen her do. "Pleased to see you, Hageshii-san," she addressed him. I blinked. I
couldn't remember having told her his name... "I was really pleased on how your feature
last year turned out. I'm glad that the city went on to expand so many local artistic
and cultural opportunities because of your article. I was worried that I'd no help at
all."
I blinked again, and I found myself gaping at her. "Y-you... You both know...?"
Okuno chuckled and nodded not at me, but at the woman at my side. "Well, it
did work out." He patted her on the shoulder. "You're still a household name, Kaioh,
even if you don't want to be."
My eyes lowered at him in annoyance. "You mean to tell me you knew her this
ENTIRE time and never ONCE mentioned that fact to me?!"
Fuki, who had yet to speak a word to me, rolled her gray eyes. "I had Okuno
write a feature for me early last year and he called her for support, nothing more."
She flicked a strand of hair from her eyes, and her multitude of silver bracelets
jangled together. "You don't have to get jealous. Sheesh."
"I'm not jealous," I scoffed, tossing my sandy hair smugly. "Okuno wouldn't
dare trod on my turf. It's certain death."
We all laughed, perhaps Michiru more than the others. Her smile was radiant,
so fulfilling... I could just see her happiness sparkle when she laughed. It was
impossible NOT to love.
My editor shot me a concerned look that only I would recognize, one eyebrow
arched and his face considerate. I shrugged slightly. I know what he was asking.
He was asking what I was going to do about Michiru.
My answer was that I didn't know.
The night dragged on. Appetizers - Fuki insisted on calling her cucumber
sandwiches "munchies" - floated around between small groups of minglers while alcoholic
beverages were consumed in large quantities. I, as the designated driver, drank
nothing, though the tempting fumes of beer and wine coolers were hard to resist.
Michiru, who was a bit more bashful than I had expected her to be, followed me silently.
I introduced her to as many people as I could think of, and she responded politely
to each introduction, following the "proper" form.
For some reason, it surprised me. She was a social chameleon, working on all
levels. She could talk to the Art Society high class while talking one-on-one with
high school freshmen. She could chat with intoxicated journalists while attending
funerals.
She could put up with me. That was a feat in itself.
It was about midnight when I finally decided to say goodnight. My co-workers
and friends waved polite good-byes (well, those who weren't smashed did), and I found
myself walking to the elevators with Michiru on my arm and Okuno behind me. In the
secluded elevator bay, he shook Michiru's hand politely goodbye.
"If this gal gives you any trouble, Kaioh, I want to hear about it," he stated,
punching me playfully in the arm as he spoke. "As the bearer of her big, dark secret,
I think I have the God-given right to know when she's mouthing off. That way, I can
beat her into submission with a large stick."
I laughed at his antics. "Yeah, you and what army?" I snorted.
Michiru giggled.
She got into the elevator, but Okuno held me back and insisted on hugging me.
It was an odd experience. I had worked beside and for the man since my first day on the
paper, but there was something so incredibly foreign about physical contact with him.
The hug was gentle, sweet, and I couldn't help but feel reams of brotherly love for him.
But it was just that - brotherly. I would never be physically attracted to a
man the way I was SUPPOSED to be. I knew that for certain.
"She's a keeper," he whispered, loosing me from his bear hug after a long
moment. "The way you look at her, and the way she looks at you..."
She looks at me...? My eyes blossomed. Did he possibly mean that...that Michiru
could possibly...? My mind swam.
He grinned down at me. "You wait and see how this turns out, Ten'ou," he told
me, prodding me toward the still-open elevator and the woman within. "I promise it'll
be good."
I smiled back at him. "I believe you," I responded.
---
We drove home through the midnight city. The stars and moon shone down on
my convertible, the silver light warm and refreshing.
The moon, for some reason, was always something warm to me. Most people liked
sunlight more than moonlight, but for some reason, I didn't enjoy the harshness of the
day. I liked the night, the silver and whites, the hushed tones of evening.
Michiru said nothing on the ride home. Not that I expected her to. It was late,
and we were both thoroughly exhausted. Instead of speaking, we listened to the quiet
hum of the engine as it raced down the road, the sounds and sights of a city deserted.
I pulled gently up in front of her apartment building, and suddenly, I realized
that the night was over. It was my second evening spent with Kaioh Michiru, and, much
like last time, I struggled with the reality of letting her go.
She glanced warmly over at me, her blue eyes staring at my face as we sat
together in my motionless vehicle. "Can I ask you one other thing, Haruka?" she
questioned quietly, her voice little more than a whisper in the night.
A smile crossed my face. Somehow, it was oddly sweet whenever she asked for
permission. "If you have one for me to field," I retorted, smirking. "Or are you just
hankering for me to tell you we're friends again?"
The beauty beside me laughed pleasantly, and then shook her head. "No, but it's
a similar question," she admitted, crossing her hands in her lap. I nodded, and
waited for the inevitable.
There was a long moment of silence. Neither of us spoke. My running car purred
softly in the night.
And then, Michiru smiled. "Haruka, do you care about me?" she finally asked,
her voice soft and sweet, like music to my ears.
I nodded firmly, a wistful and probably quite goofy smile crossing my face.
"Hai, Michiru," I responded after a moment. "I care about you more than anything else."
"Good," she replied, her face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.
She leaned forward, put a hand on one of my cheeks, and gently touched her lips against
mine. "I'll see you on Monday, then. Good night."
When she climbed out of my car, I was still blinking. I blinked when she got to
her door, and I blinked after she opened it. I blinked at the door that closed behind
her, and then I blinked at the empty road in front of me.
And then, reality struck.
Michiru had KISSED ME.
I found myself floating home that night, too.
---
End Chapter 6.
---
--------------
A Simple Thing
Chapter VI - "Sun, Moon, and Stars"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
It wasn't until I got into my car and drove off, quite literally, into the
sunset that I realized how much I loved Kaioh Michiru. I don't know why I decided it
was love, or how it came to pass, but suddenly, I just KNEW.
I knew that I loved her.
Something about her was beautiful, passionate, and just...fulfilling. I
couldn't put my finger on what it was, and maybe that was because everything about
her seemed absolutely perfect. When she was near, I felt as though I was finally
complete. And that was a feeling I never wanted to lose.
My mind tried to reason with me. I was reminded of all the deja vu flashes,
all the funny visions that included Michiru as a part of them. Visions that I did
not understand. Visions that couldn't be explained. They were new, foreign,
something that I could not explain away. And it was going to Giakiin and meeting the
beautiful orchestra teacher, eccentric nurse, and mysterious freshman that had
triggered all those things.
But, for some reasons, they felt familiar. Almost good. It was as though
they made up for all the blanks in my memories that I, alone, could not fill.
Completion. The word haunted me.
I strode into my apartment and flicked on the kitchen light, my mind and
heart light. I was practically floating, because - for the very first time in my
life - I was really, truly in love. I mean, I had fooled around with men and women
before, playing with their hearts while they toyed with my own, but I had never
felt so downright WONDERFUL. All the flirting seemed insignificant, all the
fruitless dates pointless, all the meaningless kisses in the dark just that -
meaningless. I had finally found someone I could really care about!
And then, just as I put a pot of ramen on the stove to boil, I came crashing
back down into the reality that was my life in Tokyo. The here-and-now.
Michiru liked MEN.
Well, okay, so I had no proof. Absolutely none. But the chances were that
she just thought of me as a colleague and friend, not as a lover. I threw myself
into a chair and buried my head in my hands. What in the WORLD was I thinking?!
Michiru was practically a goddess. With her flowing aqua waves and her
bright, shining blue eyes, she looked more like a mermaid than a human being. There
was no one in the world more beautiful, kind, or graceful. She was...
Perfect was the only word that came to mind. She was perfect.
I remembered standing in the school yard with her, her hand on my arm as
she told me to be myself. Who else in the universe had been that open with me? No
one.
Okuno knew that I was a girl, but that was purely accidental. Early in my
journalistic career, I got really sick with the flu and called in, telling him that
I couldn't make it to the office. I must have sounded severely ill, because he
showed up at my door that evening with a few cans of chicken broth and a thermos
full of tea.
The look on his face when opened the door was enough to break someone's
heart. I was wearing a bathrobe, and it left NOTHING to the imagination. I sighed
and invited him in, and I explained everything. Like the fact that I preferred
women to men. Like the fact that it was easier for me to walk, talk, and act like
a male than it was for me to walk, talk, and act like a female.
That day, when we sat and I told him everything about myself, solidified my
relationship with Okuno forever. He became the older brother I had never had, a
positive male influence. It was refreshing to have someone to talk to.
But I had told him everything in an awkward situation. Had he not come in
and seen me in a revealing bathrobe and immediately known I was a woman, I would
have never even told him I was a female. I would have continued my charade forever.
And then, where would I be?
Michiru already knew that I was a woman. The easy part was over. It was the
rest - explaining to her how I felt, both about other women and about her - that
would be the difficult part.
I sighed, shaking my head.
How was I to tell Michiru - my sun, moon, and stars - that she wasn't just
a friend?
---
I woke up late on Saturday morning, having intentionally turned off both
my phone and alarm clock before bed. My "Michiru dilemma," as I was beginning to
call it, had kept me up nearly half the night, and I was grateful for the extra
sleep.
Upon waking, I reached for the phone and checked my voice mail at the
newspaper. There were three messages, and all of them were from my editor. The first
two were furious; Okuno was angry that I was bringing Michiru to the party that
night, and even angrier that I had shut off my home phone so that he wasn't be
able to call me. The third, however, was completely different.
"Listen, Ten'ou," he sighed, his voice filled with an odd twang of concern,
"I don't want you to be dealing with whatever demons you have on your own, okay?
I'm sorry if I've been destroying your relationship with this woman or something...
But I don't want you to be hurt. Call me if you get a chance this afternoon.
Otherwise, I'll talk to you tonight."
There was a pause, and he sighed again. "And ask yourself this, Haruka,"
he finally said after a bout of total silence. "Can you live without her?
"If the answer is no, then I give you the go-ahead to chase her."
I smiled at the beep that signaled the end of the message.
I went through my morning with the same relaxed pace that I normally did on
Saturdays. The day was warm and bright, the late morning sun peaking through my
windows and making bright little patterns on the hardwood floor. I tossed open the
doors to my balcony and strode out, gazing down on the city below me.
"An Indian summer," I mumbled to myself as an unusually warm breeze rustled
past me. Shoppers mulled about the sidewalk, their arms laden with bags, as children
played in the park across the street from my building. I watched the world go by,
oddly content.
The phone I had turned back on rang, and I growled softly to myself as I
walked back into my bedroom. "Okuno," I grumbled into the receiver, "you really have a
way of ruining a peaceful mo - "
"Haruka?"
My voice caught in my throat as soon as I heard her voice. "Sorry, Michiru,"
I responded embarassedly, mentally kicking myself for my lofty assumption that it was
Okuno on the other end. "I thought you were my editor."
She chuckled in her sweet little way, and once again, I felt myself floating
in place. What a lovely human being she was! "I was just wondering what the dress
code for this mysterious concert is," she informed me. I could imagine her warm smile.
Even across the phone line, it was intoxicating.
"Oh, right," I flushed, imagining an anime-style sweatdrop rolling down my
cheek. "It's a classical concert at the big hall, so..."
"I should go with 'mildly sexy,' then?" she teased.
I debated saying "definitely," but settled on "Sounds good" instead.
There was a pause, and I was just about to say my good-byes and hang up the
phone when Michiru began to speak a second time. "Haruka, may I ask a question of you?"
If ever my heart stopped beating, it was then. My mind reeled with what she
COULD be about to ask me. Had she figured out my feelings? Did she feel the same back
from me? Was I losing my mind? After all, she could be asking me about what shoes
I was wearing to the concert.
She swallowed. Hard. "Well, I know that you sometimes allow people to think
that you're a male," she began tentatively, her voice a bit shaky across the phone
line. "And I don't care what reason you have for doing it, because it doesn't bother
me at all. I was just curious... Are you a man at the newspaper, or no?"
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. There was something
very comforting in such a simple question. "With the exception of my editor, yes," I
told her. "Okuno is the only one I trust with such a... Well, with my secret."
"Yes. Your 'secret.'" She chuckled. "I wonder what it would have been like had
I not knowing you were a female from the start."
I frowned slightly. "I wonder the same thing," I responded quietly, not
mentioning how desperately, I wanted to be a man...for her.
---
The concert itself was wonderful, both for the music and for my companion of
the day. Michiru, of course, was radiant as ever, garbed in a blue-print dress that
swept down to her ankles. She seemed set on outdoing my khakis, dress shirt, and
blazer, too. Not that I was minded. She looked too good for me to take offence.
Afterwards, we hopped into my convertible, rolled down the top, and started
across the city toward the Daily office, where the party was being held.
For a moment or two, we sat in complete silence, Michiru staring out at the
buildings we passed. She looked thoughtful, almost as though she was distracted by
something, and I suddenly felt as though I had been ignoring her. We hadn't really
said much to one another on the way over, either.
"Penny for your thoughts?" I questioned, glancing at her out of the corner
of my eye. She gave a small start and gazed back at me, her eyes as beautiful as
ever. She considered me silently for a moment before saying anything.
Then, she pursed her lips. "We're friends, right?" she asked quietly.
I nodded, a bit surprised by the question. "Of course, Michiru," I answered,
smiling at her. For some reason, the question reminded me of elementary school, when
all my friends and I would sit around and double-check our relationships at recess.
"Then can I ask you a question?" came her next inquiry.
I smiled again, reassuring her. What was the worst thing she could ask? "Sure,
Michiru," I replied with a shrug. "Shoot. I promise I won't bite or anything."
She chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Then, her visage
became serious, as though one moment of good had been replaced with years and years
of bad. "Haruka... Why do you sometimes pretend to be male?"
For a moment, it took all the will-power I had not to slam on the brakes in
the middle of the road. Of all the things she COULD have asked, I hadn't expected that
one. My heart raced, my stomach churned, my hands turned cold and clammy.
I remembered sitting in my living room with Okuno and explaining everything
to him. Could I do the same with Michiru?
"It's a long story," I warned her. "And it's not a pretty one, either."
She wet her pink lips, and then smiled. "It's alright," she responded. "I
want to hear it. I've wanted to hear it since the first day I met you."
I sighed. Here went nothing.
---
All my life, I had been the tall kid, the thin kid, the girl who could outrun
each and every one of the boys in the class, even when giving them a ten-second head
start. My parents were both very busy with work; my father was a sales representative
for a technology broker and was always traveling around the country, and my mother
was the manager of a busy American restaurant in the middle of Tokyo's business
district. Neither of them really had much time for me, and I didn't mind it; I liked
being alone.
From the very beginning, I never much acted like a girl. My hobbies were
playing team sports in the park with friends and watching motocross races on
television. During the summer, when my female classmates were going to the swimming
pool or playing jump rope and hopscotch, I was racing across town on my bicycle, my
friends in tow. We played pick-up games of baseball and field hockey wherever there
was green space - the park, empty lots, even the rooftops of our respective apartment
building.
I hit puberty HARD at about eleven, and it suddenly wasn't "cool" for all the
boys I spent time with to play with girls. Unfortunately, I had already ostracized
myself from every female I knew, and it made my life a living Hell. All my male friends
were destroyed, and I didn't have any female ones. What was a girl to do?
So, instead of lamenting about having no one, I joined a small track circuit
that was run out of my junior high school. We traveled everywhere - Kobe, Kyoto,
Osaka, Sendai - just to compete. All my years of running around had finally paid off,
and by the age of twelve, I was the star of the adolescent track world. Not that it
mattered too terribly, because the rest of my life was failing.
Kiboko took up all my parents' free time, and when they weren't busy trying
to care for her, I was usually out of town. I didn't enjoy talking with them - I didn't
enjoy talking to ANYONE - and so making friends was hard for me. I eventually got sick
of coping with them, and I used the prize money from my track life to find a tiny
place to live on my own. Kiboko died a year after I moved out.
Living on my own was an eye-opener. My prize money - my only means of
sustenance - started to disappear. I didn't know what to do!
I began to hang around the F-1 race track, which was only a short walk from
my apartment. There, I would stand by the fence and watch the giant cars speed by,
the sound deafening to my young ears. I was fourteen.
One day, when I was standing and watching the cars alone, a man walked up to
me. "What you doing here, boy?" he questioned.
Boy? I furrowed my brow. I wasn't a boy! And then, I realized that I COULD be.
Why not? My hair was cut short enough, and my frame was too thin to have any real
feminine curves.
So I smiled at him, trying not to be TOO charming, and said, "I like watching
the cars."
"Know anything about cars?"
I nodded earnestly. "I've read up on them, and I watch the crews all the time!"
I replied, excited to have someone talking to me. I told him everything I knew about
F-1 racers and even other race cars, and when I was done, he smiled at me.
"What's your name?"
"Haruka."
He had a towel around his neck, and he tossed it to me. I caught it, completely
perplexed. What was he doing?
"Guess what, Haruka. You're the team's new gopher. See you tomorrow."
Besides putting me right up next to the action, being the team gopher was a
well-paid position. Unfortunately, racing was a man's job, and I found myself assuming
the identity of a male more and more frequently. Everyone was fooled. I could belch
like a man, walk like a guy, talk like a boy, and do everything else that was required
of me. Better than that, the bathroom was a single unisex stall, and so I never had
to worry about being caught by going into the "wrong" washroom.
I started getting to test-drive before races, and eventually ended up in the
driver's seat. The men on the racing team said it was the natural evolution of an
F-1 racer. Start at the very bottom, and work your way up. It was a good life.
On off-season weekends, the team members and I would go dirt-bike racing on
a track just outside of Tokyo. I made a lot of acquaintances that way. Not friends,
but acquaintances. For some reason, I felt as though I couldn't share anything with
these men. I'd been pretending to be one of them, pretending to be completely male,
for far too long. It had been two years since my initial employment with the team,
and I was now sixteen years old. If ever it was too late for me to introduce the
REAL Ten'ou Haruka, the FEMALE Ten'ou Haruka, it was now.
So I kept my hair cut short. I kept my mannerisms masculine. I kept... I kept
playing the game.
And, by time I quit racing, it was too late for me to go back.
---
I finished my life story just as we pulled into the Daily parking lot. I had
more-or-less planned it that way, making a few unnecessary turns along the way to
assure that I would have enough time to explain my worldly woes. Michiru was an
attentive listener, her eyes focused on me the entire time, her face understanding
and filled with compassion.
We silently clambered out of my car, and I found myself staring her down in
the middle of the pavement. "Uhm... That's it," I finally finished, having left off
at an odd interval. Perhaps that was why she was being so quiet. Because I hadn't
really concluded the story.
Wordlessly, she closed the gap between us, standing scant inches away from
me. My heart skipped a beat. I willed myself to remain as calm as humanly possible
and to wait for her next move. It seemed to me that her life goal consisted of
surprising me. Constant surprise. It was the one key she had.
"I don't want you to ever hide when you're with me," she informed me, point-
blank. An accusatory finger poked me in the center of my chest. HARD, too. For a
small, graceful thing, she was a brute. "I want you to tell me when things are wrong,
when you need a friend, and even when you don't. It's not fair that you have to cry
alone, Haruka. You need someone in your life. Everyone does."
I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat. "And you're volunteering for the
position?" I asked breathlessly, wondering how much stock I should take in her words.
Was it an offer or a joke?
She smiled gently. "Of course, Haruka," she responded, her voice like silken
honey. "That's what I'm here for."
I couldn't argue with that.
---
"Haruka brought a girl with him!"
"Someone mark this date on the calendar!"
"Not only did Ten'ou finally get a girl, but she's a hot one! Yeouch!"
"When's the wedding, man?"
I strode into the Tokyo Daily just as I expected - the most popular "man" in
the room. High fives and handshakes flew at me from all over, and that was excluding
the massive heckling. I made my way through the milling journalists, smiling and
laughing with them, Michiru following me the entire way.
Okuno was standing in a corner as he did a most large gatherings, flirting
with the purple-haired arts editor. I rarely talked to Fuki; she was a bit too dark and
"alternative" for me to handle. I silently wondered what would be like to put her
in a room with Megumi; after all, don't matter and antimatter explode when they collide?
"Ten'ou showed up, now did he?" scoffed Okuno, moving from his attempted
conquest to clap me on the back a few times. His smile lit up, and I could tell that
he was glad to see me, alive and well. Then, he moved to glance at Michiru. "And is
this the lovely Kaioh-san, the woman you've told me so much about?"
Michiru bowed politely in his direction, something I don't think I had ever
seen her do. "Pleased to see you, Hageshii-san," she addressed him. I blinked. I
couldn't remember having told her his name... "I was really pleased on how your feature
last year turned out. I'm glad that the city went on to expand so many local artistic
and cultural opportunities because of your article. I was worried that I'd no help at
all."
I blinked again, and I found myself gaping at her. "Y-you... You both know...?"
Okuno chuckled and nodded not at me, but at the woman at my side. "Well, it
did work out." He patted her on the shoulder. "You're still a household name, Kaioh,
even if you don't want to be."
My eyes lowered at him in annoyance. "You mean to tell me you knew her this
ENTIRE time and never ONCE mentioned that fact to me?!"
Fuki, who had yet to speak a word to me, rolled her gray eyes. "I had Okuno
write a feature for me early last year and he called her for support, nothing more."
She flicked a strand of hair from her eyes, and her multitude of silver bracelets
jangled together. "You don't have to get jealous. Sheesh."
"I'm not jealous," I scoffed, tossing my sandy hair smugly. "Okuno wouldn't
dare trod on my turf. It's certain death."
We all laughed, perhaps Michiru more than the others. Her smile was radiant,
so fulfilling... I could just see her happiness sparkle when she laughed. It was
impossible NOT to love.
My editor shot me a concerned look that only I would recognize, one eyebrow
arched and his face considerate. I shrugged slightly. I know what he was asking.
He was asking what I was going to do about Michiru.
My answer was that I didn't know.
The night dragged on. Appetizers - Fuki insisted on calling her cucumber
sandwiches "munchies" - floated around between small groups of minglers while alcoholic
beverages were consumed in large quantities. I, as the designated driver, drank
nothing, though the tempting fumes of beer and wine coolers were hard to resist.
Michiru, who was a bit more bashful than I had expected her to be, followed me silently.
I introduced her to as many people as I could think of, and she responded politely
to each introduction, following the "proper" form.
For some reason, it surprised me. She was a social chameleon, working on all
levels. She could talk to the Art Society high class while talking one-on-one with
high school freshmen. She could chat with intoxicated journalists while attending
funerals.
She could put up with me. That was a feat in itself.
It was about midnight when I finally decided to say goodnight. My co-workers
and friends waved polite good-byes (well, those who weren't smashed did), and I found
myself walking to the elevators with Michiru on my arm and Okuno behind me. In the
secluded elevator bay, he shook Michiru's hand politely goodbye.
"If this gal gives you any trouble, Kaioh, I want to hear about it," he stated,
punching me playfully in the arm as he spoke. "As the bearer of her big, dark secret,
I think I have the God-given right to know when she's mouthing off. That way, I can
beat her into submission with a large stick."
I laughed at his antics. "Yeah, you and what army?" I snorted.
Michiru giggled.
She got into the elevator, but Okuno held me back and insisted on hugging me.
It was an odd experience. I had worked beside and for the man since my first day on the
paper, but there was something so incredibly foreign about physical contact with him.
The hug was gentle, sweet, and I couldn't help but feel reams of brotherly love for him.
But it was just that - brotherly. I would never be physically attracted to a
man the way I was SUPPOSED to be. I knew that for certain.
"She's a keeper," he whispered, loosing me from his bear hug after a long
moment. "The way you look at her, and the way she looks at you..."
She looks at me...? My eyes blossomed. Did he possibly mean that...that Michiru
could possibly...? My mind swam.
He grinned down at me. "You wait and see how this turns out, Ten'ou," he told
me, prodding me toward the still-open elevator and the woman within. "I promise it'll
be good."
I smiled back at him. "I believe you," I responded.
---
We drove home through the midnight city. The stars and moon shone down on
my convertible, the silver light warm and refreshing.
The moon, for some reason, was always something warm to me. Most people liked
sunlight more than moonlight, but for some reason, I didn't enjoy the harshness of the
day. I liked the night, the silver and whites, the hushed tones of evening.
Michiru said nothing on the ride home. Not that I expected her to. It was late,
and we were both thoroughly exhausted. Instead of speaking, we listened to the quiet
hum of the engine as it raced down the road, the sounds and sights of a city deserted.
I pulled gently up in front of her apartment building, and suddenly, I realized
that the night was over. It was my second evening spent with Kaioh Michiru, and, much
like last time, I struggled with the reality of letting her go.
She glanced warmly over at me, her blue eyes staring at my face as we sat
together in my motionless vehicle. "Can I ask you one other thing, Haruka?" she
questioned quietly, her voice little more than a whisper in the night.
A smile crossed my face. Somehow, it was oddly sweet whenever she asked for
permission. "If you have one for me to field," I retorted, smirking. "Or are you just
hankering for me to tell you we're friends again?"
The beauty beside me laughed pleasantly, and then shook her head. "No, but it's
a similar question," she admitted, crossing her hands in her lap. I nodded, and
waited for the inevitable.
There was a long moment of silence. Neither of us spoke. My running car purred
softly in the night.
And then, Michiru smiled. "Haruka, do you care about me?" she finally asked,
her voice soft and sweet, like music to my ears.
I nodded firmly, a wistful and probably quite goofy smile crossing my face.
"Hai, Michiru," I responded after a moment. "I care about you more than anything else."
"Good," she replied, her face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.
She leaned forward, put a hand on one of my cheeks, and gently touched her lips against
mine. "I'll see you on Monday, then. Good night."
When she climbed out of my car, I was still blinking. I blinked when she got to
her door, and I blinked after she opened it. I blinked at the door that closed behind
her, and then I blinked at the empty road in front of me.
And then, reality struck.
Michiru had KISSED ME.
I found myself floating home that night, too.
---
End Chapter 6.
---