"Put my heart in your hands..."
--------------
A Simple Thing
Chapter VII - "The Beating of Hearts"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
What made a relationship? Was it the whispers in the dark? The softly
spoken "I love yous" and the heart-felt moments when you were alone with that
special person? Or was it something more, something substantial, something...
Magnificent...
I laid in bed all night Saturday, pondering exactly that. Michiru had
kissed me, sure, but it wasn't that. No, that was just the culmination of all
those secret thoughts I had toyed with, the culmination of my love in the here
and now. That was temporary, something smaller.
What I was pondering was all the deja vu. All the things that I felt
deep within me, the things that I THOUGHT were there. I was wholly aware of my
attraction to her, my love for her, the passion I felt whenever I was near her.
I KNEW those feelings, I reveled in those. The things I weren't certain about
were those things I didn't understand, those constant and annoying naggings that
consisted of visions. And those visions were almost like memories, to me, things
I SHOULD have known.
I had blank spots in my memory, blurred places that I could not
understand. I probably never would. Most of my high school career had forever
been just one big white blotch in my mind's eye. I could recall my school's
principal, a strange-looking man who always wore a white lab coat and cackled
a lot, and - sometimes - the school nurse came to mind, a red-haired woman who
had always spooked me. That was it. Nothing else remained.
Until I came to Giakiin, at least. From the moment I entered that school,
I began to fill in patches of my memories. Only these new visions were strange.
Michiru, Setsuna, and Hotaru haunted them, but I had only just met them. How
could they be in my memories?
The visions were so many, and so confusing, that I forced myself to
sit up in bed, grab a sheet of paper, and sketch them out.
First, Hotaru had looked unsettlingly familiar. Okay, that COULD be
coincidence. Maybe I had seen her at the grocery store or something, and helped
her pick up a dropped bag of canned noodles. Entirely possible. The same went
with Michiru; I could have bumped into her on my way to the train station once
upon a time and happened to remember her. Or I could have seen her solo at a
concert once, long ago.
But they had made me feel like a mother and a lover. Now THAT was too
weird.
The same sensation hit me when I was near Setsuna, but I had discovered
a name to go with the face. I would have sworn up and down to having met her
before, had I not know better. But I DID know better, and that was the problem.
I should not have known these people.
Meeting Setsuna brought more poignant pictures to the surface of my
mind. These were not just random little deja vu feelings but actual, physical
pictures of things that had happened. At least, I assumed they had.
There was a cabin in the woods, with baking pies and children's books
and everything else that followed those lines.
There was an explosion in the sky, a bolt of light as a helicopter
burst into flame while hovering over Tokyo.
There was the mental image of a pigtailed girl, sparked by Michiru.
Why had the words "childish and rash" set off the image of a blonde I had never,
EVER seen?
And spending time with Michiru brought more visions. Visions of watching
a violin concert at her side, visions of watching her perform with a J-Pop group
in a packed auditorium, visions of accompanying her to a ball and playing piano
at her side, standing in a park, alone, and listening to a haunting melody played
beautifully on a violin... Why?
When I wasn't thinking of her violin, she brought me to grips with
other memories... Memories of a dark-haired girl sitting on a park bench, a
pink-haired girl playing on the park's playground, or a bow-headed blonde
singing her heart out at a bandstand.
Just looking at my apartment window seat made me imagine her hands on
mine, a gentle adoration in her face as she clasped and unclasped my fingers
in hers. Glancing at the paintings in my apartment led me to think of a large,
dark oil-on-canvas piece that was called "The End of the World." And sitting on
stairs not fifteen feet from that same painting was Michiru in a white dress,
telling me about the end of the world.
The end...of the world?
Or was it the exploding castle that came to mind when Setsuna mentioned
the word "disaster?"
And my dreams... Dreams of golden bracelets and navy skirts, dreams
of golden women attacking smaller, blonde girls. Dreams of injuring others with
my own hands, others who cared about me, others who willed me to stop. Others
who looked like Hotaru, like Setsuna. Others who called me Uranus.
...and one more dream, a dream of sitting beside Michiru and driving
along the seashore, the wind sweeping through my hair as we sped along in my
yellow car.
The visions plagued me, haunting both my days and my nights. I glanced
at my list, tucking my pencil reflectively behind my ear. More than ten different
visions laid before me, each just a bit different and more poignant from the
first. They flowed gently through my mind, filling up all the blanks that I had
never been able to fill, making me feel as though I was finally certain about
my life. Even if they were things I didn't really remember, they were there.
They were a part of me I couldn't understand.
I set down the pad and pencil and flicked off the bedside lamp. Maybe
I wasn't meant to understand.
I fell into a fitful and dreamless sleep.
---
Saturday died and Sunday come, and I found myself sinking more and more
into the mystery of my visions. I spent the day on the Internet, surfing for
information on not only Michiru, but Setsuna and Hotaru as well.
Though she was only sixteen, Tomoe Hotaru had hundreds of hits for her
name. Most were in conjunction with her father's work; Souichi was a world-
renowned scientist, researching the genetic engineering. Early in his daughter's
life, he presented a high-tech laser to the Board of Trustees at MIT, hoping to
impress them enough to get a new grant. The laser was meant to pinpoint cancerous
cells in the human body and totally irradiate them. Unfortunately, the laser
exploded when it overheated that day, killing almost everyone in the lab. In
fact, the only two people to live through the accident were the scientist and
his daughter, who was three years old at the time.
Tomoe Souichi was also named as the founder of Mugen Gakuen High School.
I blinked at that article. I had attended that school and NEVER heard of a
Professor Tomoe. At least, I didn't THINK -
A man standing in a white lab coat flooded my vision. One eye was covered
with a metal star as he laughed, his hands raised into the air.
Goosebumps overtook my bared arms, and I shuddered. Was THAT the man who
fathered Hotaru? No, it couldn't have been. Hotaru was a dear, sweet girl, all
innocence and kindness. Her father couldn't be some sort of psychopath! It wasn't
possible.
Meiou Setsuna had few hits. She was virtually unknown on the whole. The
only information I could find on her was from her nursing school, and that data
was four or five years old. According to her profile at her college, she was
about my age. Her family members and hometown were listed as "unknown," and her
hobbies and interests had been left blank. She obviously didn't want anyone to
know much about herself - something I guess I could understand.
As I had expected from the outset, Michiru had more hits on her name
than I had previously thought the Internet had sites. Every other page was a
Michiru worship page, praising the young violinist on her many achievements
and accomplishments. Several had "in-depth" biographies, but those bios left
much to be desired. They were neither descriptive nor complete; most just
consisted of her birthdate, hobbies, and various CDs. Nothing more.
It was actually an article from the Chicago Tribune, a popular American
paper, that gave me the most information on her. "A household name at sixteen,"
read the headline, and - though I struggled with the majority of the complicated
English words - I managed to catch the meaning of the article fairly well.
Michiru was a normal girl, raised by two very successful parents. No one
had expected her to be as good at violin as she was, so at the age of ten she
was sent to a prestigious American violin camp in upstate New York. She obliterated
every other student there; it was as though her talent soared more and more with
each scratch of her bow across the strings.
Her first CD was released at the age of thirteen, with two more following
that very year. I skimmed over the next few paragraphs; they were mostly about
her concerts, and a lot of the information consisted of words I couldn't read. I
cursed myself for not caring more about the English language, considering the
fact that such an annoying tongue was just about EVERYWHERE in the universe.
It wasn't until the last paragraph that I found my eyes nearly popping
out of my head and my left eyebrow twitching. "Michiru Kaioh is currently in
her first year of high school at Mugen Academy in downtown Tokyo," I read aloud,
my heart skipping a beat. I moved to check the press date on the article. It had
been published in 1995, the very same year that I was a first-year at Mugen Gakuen.
I clicked on the link at the bottom of the screen, which was entitled
"Candid Shots and Glamour Poses." A screen of badly scanned newspaper and magazine
pictures popped up, all with goofy captions. None of them were journalistically
sound, either, I noted with a snort. Someone needed to learn how to write.
Sifting through the photos proved quite distracting. Every other picture
was a lovely portrait of Michiru, a picture I would love to print and hang on my
wall. In one, she stood on a stage with the Three Lights, a long white dress
hugging her form as she took a final bow. In another, she stood in a small wading
pond, wearing her school uniform. She looked so placid... I felt like I was
disturbing her by even looking at the photo.
It wasn't until I reached the very last picture on the page that I felt
my heart begin to race and my hands grow sweaty. The last picture was a larger
image, and I imagined that it had been taken personally by the fan that had built
the site; it wasn't as grainy and hard-to-make-out as the others.
In the middle of the photo stood Michiru, garbed in a pink and quite
ruffly dress, her violin perfect poised as she played through one song or
another. Near her, sitting at a piano, was what appeared to be a young man, his
sandy blonde hair falling into his eyes as he accompanied her.
The caption read: "Michiru plays violin at the exchange student ball (and
I was there! ^__^v) with some guy named Haruka Ten'ou."
---
My mind rushed over, under, and through, searching desperately for
answers that I was fairly certain I would never find. Not only had Michiru attended
my high school - the school that Hotaru's father had founded - but she and I had
played together on at least one occasion! Beyond that, I had never to my knowledge
served as ANYONE'S accompanist, let alone the accompanist of one Kaioh Michiru.
Something in the equation smelled, and I didn't like the scent. Not one bit.
But as confused as I was, I found myself very relieved at the same time.
It was as though my questions were finally coming to fruition in the best way
possible. I had known Michiru all along - at least, to some extent - and just
had forgotten. All my funny feelings were based off past experience after all,
it was just the trauma of my sister's death pushing those fonder memories away.
...or was it? I honestly had no answer.
I decided that I needed a break from thinking, and settled myself down
in front of the television. I could still catch the early afternoon news before
flicking to some meaningless made-for-TV movie and just turning into a total
couch potato. I even went as far as to make myself popcorn, and then plopped down,
ready to watch.
My first stop was the big, national news network. A smiling, cheeky
news anchor beamed at me. "Today's top story at noon," she grinned, her bright
eyes shining, "is Chiba Usagi's surge ahead in the race for Prime Minister. As you
may know, Chiba-san is the both the youngest candidate for the office in history
and the first female to make it past the primaries. The twenty-two year old had
great things to say about her race."
A beautiful blonde woman popped onto the screen. She was wearing a tight
and yet casual pink business suit. In her arms was not a "Vote for Chiba" sign but
a small child, most likely less than a year old. "I'm glad that the people are
stepping forward and voting for the person they believe in," stated the politician,
juggling her daughter as she leaned into the microphone. "It's time that we stopped
voting for the old big-wigs who think they know what's best for Japan's families
and started taking stock in families themselves. Of course, I will never have
everyone on my side - " She smiled sweetly at the thought. " - but it never hurts
knowing that you have someone who understands."
I found myself blinking at the screen long after the political story had
given way to a brief weather report. Chiba Usagi...? Why did the blonde on the
screen remind me of a free-spirited teen with funny odangos in her hair? And why
had her pigtailed child look so familiar?
Seizing the remote, I flipped to another news station.
"Mizuno Ami, twenty-two, has worked for years in an attempt to mimic low-
gravity situations on Earth," stated a balding newsman blandly as a news reel
rolled behind him. A woman with short, chic blue hair and bright blue eyes stepped
onto a podium and shook hands with several lab-coat wearing men. "She becomes
one of very few women to win the Nobel Prize for Physics. The United States has
high hopes for her program, saying that it would work well with NASA."
A swimming pool came to mind, a pool in which I laid on the diving board
and watched two women - one with short, blue hair, and the other with aqua waves -
race across the water.
I flicked the channel button.
"I was really honored to receive such homage for my work at the Shrine,"
a raven-haired miko was saying, holding a broom in front of her as she spoke into
the microphone. A raven was perched on her shoulder as she spoke. "I didn't think
that it was enough to be recognized as 'Someone You Should Know,' but I'm glad
that my work is appreciated."
The picture went back to a young, hip-looking male newscaster, who was
perched on the edge of his news desk. "And that, my friends, is why shrine maiden
Hino Rei is 'Someone You Should Know.'"
She was soaking wet, standing in an empty lot. Rain poured down around her
as she watched a young man with shaggy hair run away. I handed her my umbrella,
smiled sadly, and followed him out of the lot, feeling her eyes on me the entire
way.
Channel up.
A merry little jingle played as a brunette with a high ponytail pulled a
cake out of an oven. The picture shimmered to the same woman slicing scallions into
tiny pieces before sprinkling them atop some sort of dip. Another video clip
dropped down onto that one. This time, the brunette was rolling out some sort of
dough into a circle. "Cooking With Kino Makoto!" read the title as it zipped onto
the screen, the green and pink letters almost blinding.
I smiled at the brunette, stooping down on the ground to tie my scarf
around her hand. I had been careless on my bike, again, and she had barely managed
to save the life of her ditzy blonde friend. Lucky for her, the scratch wouldn't
scar...too badly, at least.
I flipped the channel once again.
A blonde stood in the middle of some sort of studio stage. In her long
hair was a ridiculous red bow, but it almost matched with her equally ridiculous
navy flared jeans and skin-tight orange halter top. "Today, we interview sexy
grandmothers who seduce younger men! Give it up for the Aino Minako Show!"
I smiled at her as she handed me a stuffed animal of some sort and jetted
off.
I turned off the TV and threw the remote at the wall in frustration. Why?!
Why did MORE visions plague me?!
And why, in my mind, could I see all five of those young women as teens,
standing high on a pet store windowsill and announcing themselves as the Sailor
Team?!
---
I tried to remain cool, calm, and collected for the rest of my Sunday,
but it was hard to. Between discovering that Michiru and I were classmates and
possibly friends in high school and seeing video clips of various women that
I thought I should know.... Well, it was disconcerting, I could easily say that
much.
Monday morning was full of sunshine and warmth, just as the last few days
had been. I had yet to decide whether or not I liked the Indian summer that had
come to greet Tokyo, but I managed to ignore the weather and walk into the locker
room, completely undetected.
When it came to my visions, memories, and other things, my mind was still
a complete and total blur. I didn't know what to think about all that, and I could
admit that.
When it came to Kaioh Michiru, however, my mind was made up. I could no
longer stand the thought of loving her in silence, especially after the soft,
gentle kiss we had shared. Perhaps Michiru was haunting my past, but living a
life without her would bring about a haunting future. A future without real love,
real belonging. I didn't like the thought of such a future.
I didn't like the thought of living without her.
My first period of gym that day went without a hitch. We were in the midst
of our basketball unit, so I had the simple task of teaching them how to dribble,
shoot, and block. Most the girls already knew how to play the sport, and those
who didn't learned quickly.
I watched them play three-on-three matches dully, not really caring what
happened. As long as there wasn't blood, I was happy as a clam. My mind focused on
what I would say to Michiru that day at lunch.
The reason I decided on lunch as the perfect time to breech such a delicate
topic was that I could have plenty of chances to escape if things started going
downhill. I didn't particularly want to be an escapist, but that was my nature.
I needed to have the opportunity to run away, just in case.
What to say was another story. I couldn't use the typical "I'm attracted
to you scenario" on her, because we were both females. We were tempted by society's
forbidden fruit, an apple so dangerous that we, like Adam and Eve before us, could
find ourselves ostracized in the blink of an eye. And maybe popular society wasn't
Eden, but in this world, it's close enough.
I couldn't just seize her in a passionate kiss and explain it away later.
No. I had to sit her down and rationally tell her everything. Both about how much
I loved her and about all the strange little flashes I had, flashes where I pictured
her and I as old friends. Her comment at the funeral had led me to believe that
she was having the same kinds of visions.
Now, it was time for me to bite the bullet and prove that.
I dismissed my class five minutes earlier than normal and followed them
down to the locker room, changing hastily into my "street" clothes of khakis and
a sweater. I look so...feminine, I thought to myself as I straightened my shaggy
hair in a bathroom mirror. Is this really the Haruka who comes out when I'm not
pretending? A gorgeous woman with such soulful gray-blue eyes?
The bell rang, and I found myself walking down the hallway to the
cafeteria.
Now, or never, I repeated in my head, the mantra firm and true.
I had to tell Michiru now..... And if I didn't, I never would.
---
She sat alone in the teacher's area of the cafeteria, her hair pulled back
into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was bent over both a Caesar salad
and a copy of that morning's "Tokyo Daily," and I didn't doubt the fact she was
busily reading. Part of me feared even bothering the aqua-haired beauty that
sat before me, afraid of what might happen if I disturbed her peace and happiness.
Now or never, I reminded myself firmly, my hands in my back pockets as
I walked toward the table. Tell her now, or don't ever. Bite the bullet, or take
the hit.
Did I dare?
"Ohayo, Michiru," I greeted the young woman at the table, moving to sit
across from her. Hadn't I read somewhere that men would rather sit across from the
people they want to talk to, and females sit beside them? Sometimes, I couldn't help
but wonder how much of my "pretending" was really actually my personality...
She glanced up from the paper, looked into my eyes, and smiled. "Oh,
Haruka!" she responded, folding shut the paper as she spoke. "I'm glad you're here!
I was wondering if you'd want to get an early dinner after work tomorrow and then
join me at this literary conference I'm going to. I think that..." She trailed off
suddenly, her face turning concerned. "Are you alright, Haruka?" she questioned,
cocking her head slightly to one side. "You look distracted, like something is
wrong..."
The lump in my throat began to choke me, so I swallowed my fear and nodded
solemnly. "I think we should talk, Michiru," I told her, my voice as steady as I
could force it to be. "There are things I've been meaning to say to you, and if
I wait any longer, I don't think I'll be able to say them at all."
Her face turned pale, and she nodded her assent. "Go right ahead," she
replied, smiling weakly. "I'm certain that, whatever it is that plagues you, it
won't end up being too bad."
Not too bad, I snorted inwardly. Yeah, right.
I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes. It was time.
"Michiru! Haruka!" squealed a voice, and I grimaced with all my might.
Of all the horrible times for Megumi to burst in on our conversations... The
redhead plopped into the chair beside Michiru and grinned maniacally at the both of
us. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I can't WAIT to tell you what just happened
in my English class!"
Sighing, I cupped my chin in a hand. "No, you're not interrupting at ALL,"
I retorted, the sarcasm biting but still going undetected by the Japanese teacher.
"You go right ahead."
And, much like she had a habit of doing, Megumi went right ahead.
---
I tried the rest of the day to find a chance to talk to Michiru, but it
seemed as though the same fate that allowed me to meet her was a fickle and humor-
filled fate. Because every time I looked for her, something - or someone - stood
in the way, making my life just a ball of angst and annoyance.
Seventh period in my schedule was a free period, and so I spent the time
wandering around the building in hopes of seeing Michiru. Her seventh period
wasn't free but a tutorial class, and my optimistic hope was, of course, that she
would be able to take a break from her students to speak with me.
I peeked my head into the music room and glanced around, only to see a
congregation of about twenty violin players sitting in the orchestral risers.
Michiru stood before them, her back turned to the group as she wrote what looked
like fingerings on the blackboard.
"Now, I know that some of the higher notes are difficult," she began,
placing her chalk on the ledge as she started to turn around, "but I think that
it should be easy enough if you really try..."
My heart sank. Her "tutorial" class was actually a group of beginning
violin players. Somehow, I should have guessed.
Eighth and ninth periods were, again, my time to teach bored freshman
girls how to play basketball. And, again, they went without a hitch. I found my
mind wandering, once again, to Michiru, and what I would have to say and do to
win her over. Or, more so, what I would have to say and do to NOT sound like a
total and complete idiot.
As I had before lunch, I rushed to dress back in my street clothes after
the school day was over. I had never before had so much energy on a Monday,
something that was both unusual and unnerving. Who would have ever guessed that
a woman would get me this shaken up?
I searched through the crowds of school girls as a lioness searches the
savanna for her prey. There, standing outside the front office, was the beautifully
graceful Kaioh Michiru, my one angel, the woman I would kill to spend forever with.
She stood alone, her back turned to the hallway, her form so utterly perfect, like
poetry in motion.
My steps sped up as soon as I spotted her. I HAD to catch her now, to talk
to her before anyone else did, to take her to some secluded classroom and bare my
soul. And I had to do it soon, before I lost my will to fight...and lost her as
part of that.
When I was about three or four steps shy of tapping her on the shoulder,
Meiou Setsuna stepped out of the office and smiled at Michiru. "Thank you for
waiting," I heard her say, her smile sweet and kind hearted. "Now, come with me,
and we can get another first aid kit for your classroom. I just don't know what
happened to the original one."
They walked away, their backs forever to me, as I stood in the middle of
a relatively empty hall.
My decision had been made for me.
---
Ringing that doorbell, that night, qualified as the most terrifying thing
I had ever done in my entire life.
I had done a lot of scary things in my few years, believe it or not, and
so you would think that ringing a doorbell would be nothing so out of the ordinary
as to strike fear into my heart. But it did all the same. I was more frightened of
Michiru's doorbell than the doorbell I rang the day my father died. Seeing my
mother, grieving for his loss while still furious with me... That paled in
comparison to what I was about to say to Michiru.
...Michiru...
For the first time in my life, I had waited patiently for this moment to
come. My trip home from school was calm and relaxing, and I took the time upon
getting home to enjoy the small things in life, such as opening a week's worth
of mail, catching up on the world events of the past week and a half... Things
that my Michiru-induced anxiety had been keeping me from all this time. And it
FELT relaxing, and reassuring, and wonderful... I was content.
Content in the name of that evening, at least.
So I stood before Michiru's apartment, my finger on the doorbell, a
bouquet of flowers clutched behind my back. The doorman had been unusually kind,
probably assuming me to be one of the violinist's many suitors. He let me into
the building, no questions asked, no arched eyebrows in my direction.
I was thankful for that.
I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.
Now or never.
It was almost thirty seconds after I rang the doorbell that Michiru came
to the door. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair tied up in
a high ponytail with a red ribbon. Her face lit up upon seeing me, and a genuinely
beautiful smile crossed her visage when I handed her the flowers.
"Haruka!" she exclaimed, pulling me and the floral arrangement into her
living room. "If I had known you were coming, I could have cleaned up a little!"
She gestured to the piles of schoolbooks and papers on her coffee table. "I was
trying to plan for this conference I'm going to in the winter and you - "
"I'm not staying long," I cut in, my hands clasped behind my back as I
spoke. She glanced at me, both confused and a bit hurt. I knew I sounded cross,
maybe even rude, but....
But.......
Now or never, Ten'ou, I cursed myself. Now...or never.
"Michiru," I gulped, my eyes closing with a will of their own, "we need
to talk about something."
She nodded and said nothing.
---
End Chapter VII.
---
--------------
A Simple Thing
Chapter VII - "The Beating of Hearts"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
What made a relationship? Was it the whispers in the dark? The softly
spoken "I love yous" and the heart-felt moments when you were alone with that
special person? Or was it something more, something substantial, something...
Magnificent...
I laid in bed all night Saturday, pondering exactly that. Michiru had
kissed me, sure, but it wasn't that. No, that was just the culmination of all
those secret thoughts I had toyed with, the culmination of my love in the here
and now. That was temporary, something smaller.
What I was pondering was all the deja vu. All the things that I felt
deep within me, the things that I THOUGHT were there. I was wholly aware of my
attraction to her, my love for her, the passion I felt whenever I was near her.
I KNEW those feelings, I reveled in those. The things I weren't certain about
were those things I didn't understand, those constant and annoying naggings that
consisted of visions. And those visions were almost like memories, to me, things
I SHOULD have known.
I had blank spots in my memory, blurred places that I could not
understand. I probably never would. Most of my high school career had forever
been just one big white blotch in my mind's eye. I could recall my school's
principal, a strange-looking man who always wore a white lab coat and cackled
a lot, and - sometimes - the school nurse came to mind, a red-haired woman who
had always spooked me. That was it. Nothing else remained.
Until I came to Giakiin, at least. From the moment I entered that school,
I began to fill in patches of my memories. Only these new visions were strange.
Michiru, Setsuna, and Hotaru haunted them, but I had only just met them. How
could they be in my memories?
The visions were so many, and so confusing, that I forced myself to
sit up in bed, grab a sheet of paper, and sketch them out.
First, Hotaru had looked unsettlingly familiar. Okay, that COULD be
coincidence. Maybe I had seen her at the grocery store or something, and helped
her pick up a dropped bag of canned noodles. Entirely possible. The same went
with Michiru; I could have bumped into her on my way to the train station once
upon a time and happened to remember her. Or I could have seen her solo at a
concert once, long ago.
But they had made me feel like a mother and a lover. Now THAT was too
weird.
The same sensation hit me when I was near Setsuna, but I had discovered
a name to go with the face. I would have sworn up and down to having met her
before, had I not know better. But I DID know better, and that was the problem.
I should not have known these people.
Meeting Setsuna brought more poignant pictures to the surface of my
mind. These were not just random little deja vu feelings but actual, physical
pictures of things that had happened. At least, I assumed they had.
There was a cabin in the woods, with baking pies and children's books
and everything else that followed those lines.
There was an explosion in the sky, a bolt of light as a helicopter
burst into flame while hovering over Tokyo.
There was the mental image of a pigtailed girl, sparked by Michiru.
Why had the words "childish and rash" set off the image of a blonde I had never,
EVER seen?
And spending time with Michiru brought more visions. Visions of watching
a violin concert at her side, visions of watching her perform with a J-Pop group
in a packed auditorium, visions of accompanying her to a ball and playing piano
at her side, standing in a park, alone, and listening to a haunting melody played
beautifully on a violin... Why?
When I wasn't thinking of her violin, she brought me to grips with
other memories... Memories of a dark-haired girl sitting on a park bench, a
pink-haired girl playing on the park's playground, or a bow-headed blonde
singing her heart out at a bandstand.
Just looking at my apartment window seat made me imagine her hands on
mine, a gentle adoration in her face as she clasped and unclasped my fingers
in hers. Glancing at the paintings in my apartment led me to think of a large,
dark oil-on-canvas piece that was called "The End of the World." And sitting on
stairs not fifteen feet from that same painting was Michiru in a white dress,
telling me about the end of the world.
The end...of the world?
Or was it the exploding castle that came to mind when Setsuna mentioned
the word "disaster?"
And my dreams... Dreams of golden bracelets and navy skirts, dreams
of golden women attacking smaller, blonde girls. Dreams of injuring others with
my own hands, others who cared about me, others who willed me to stop. Others
who looked like Hotaru, like Setsuna. Others who called me Uranus.
...and one more dream, a dream of sitting beside Michiru and driving
along the seashore, the wind sweeping through my hair as we sped along in my
yellow car.
The visions plagued me, haunting both my days and my nights. I glanced
at my list, tucking my pencil reflectively behind my ear. More than ten different
visions laid before me, each just a bit different and more poignant from the
first. They flowed gently through my mind, filling up all the blanks that I had
never been able to fill, making me feel as though I was finally certain about
my life. Even if they were things I didn't really remember, they were there.
They were a part of me I couldn't understand.
I set down the pad and pencil and flicked off the bedside lamp. Maybe
I wasn't meant to understand.
I fell into a fitful and dreamless sleep.
---
Saturday died and Sunday come, and I found myself sinking more and more
into the mystery of my visions. I spent the day on the Internet, surfing for
information on not only Michiru, but Setsuna and Hotaru as well.
Though she was only sixteen, Tomoe Hotaru had hundreds of hits for her
name. Most were in conjunction with her father's work; Souichi was a world-
renowned scientist, researching the genetic engineering. Early in his daughter's
life, he presented a high-tech laser to the Board of Trustees at MIT, hoping to
impress them enough to get a new grant. The laser was meant to pinpoint cancerous
cells in the human body and totally irradiate them. Unfortunately, the laser
exploded when it overheated that day, killing almost everyone in the lab. In
fact, the only two people to live through the accident were the scientist and
his daughter, who was three years old at the time.
Tomoe Souichi was also named as the founder of Mugen Gakuen High School.
I blinked at that article. I had attended that school and NEVER heard of a
Professor Tomoe. At least, I didn't THINK -
A man standing in a white lab coat flooded my vision. One eye was covered
with a metal star as he laughed, his hands raised into the air.
Goosebumps overtook my bared arms, and I shuddered. Was THAT the man who
fathered Hotaru? No, it couldn't have been. Hotaru was a dear, sweet girl, all
innocence and kindness. Her father couldn't be some sort of psychopath! It wasn't
possible.
Meiou Setsuna had few hits. She was virtually unknown on the whole. The
only information I could find on her was from her nursing school, and that data
was four or five years old. According to her profile at her college, she was
about my age. Her family members and hometown were listed as "unknown," and her
hobbies and interests had been left blank. She obviously didn't want anyone to
know much about herself - something I guess I could understand.
As I had expected from the outset, Michiru had more hits on her name
than I had previously thought the Internet had sites. Every other page was a
Michiru worship page, praising the young violinist on her many achievements
and accomplishments. Several had "in-depth" biographies, but those bios left
much to be desired. They were neither descriptive nor complete; most just
consisted of her birthdate, hobbies, and various CDs. Nothing more.
It was actually an article from the Chicago Tribune, a popular American
paper, that gave me the most information on her. "A household name at sixteen,"
read the headline, and - though I struggled with the majority of the complicated
English words - I managed to catch the meaning of the article fairly well.
Michiru was a normal girl, raised by two very successful parents. No one
had expected her to be as good at violin as she was, so at the age of ten she
was sent to a prestigious American violin camp in upstate New York. She obliterated
every other student there; it was as though her talent soared more and more with
each scratch of her bow across the strings.
Her first CD was released at the age of thirteen, with two more following
that very year. I skimmed over the next few paragraphs; they were mostly about
her concerts, and a lot of the information consisted of words I couldn't read. I
cursed myself for not caring more about the English language, considering the
fact that such an annoying tongue was just about EVERYWHERE in the universe.
It wasn't until the last paragraph that I found my eyes nearly popping
out of my head and my left eyebrow twitching. "Michiru Kaioh is currently in
her first year of high school at Mugen Academy in downtown Tokyo," I read aloud,
my heart skipping a beat. I moved to check the press date on the article. It had
been published in 1995, the very same year that I was a first-year at Mugen Gakuen.
I clicked on the link at the bottom of the screen, which was entitled
"Candid Shots and Glamour Poses." A screen of badly scanned newspaper and magazine
pictures popped up, all with goofy captions. None of them were journalistically
sound, either, I noted with a snort. Someone needed to learn how to write.
Sifting through the photos proved quite distracting. Every other picture
was a lovely portrait of Michiru, a picture I would love to print and hang on my
wall. In one, she stood on a stage with the Three Lights, a long white dress
hugging her form as she took a final bow. In another, she stood in a small wading
pond, wearing her school uniform. She looked so placid... I felt like I was
disturbing her by even looking at the photo.
It wasn't until I reached the very last picture on the page that I felt
my heart begin to race and my hands grow sweaty. The last picture was a larger
image, and I imagined that it had been taken personally by the fan that had built
the site; it wasn't as grainy and hard-to-make-out as the others.
In the middle of the photo stood Michiru, garbed in a pink and quite
ruffly dress, her violin perfect poised as she played through one song or
another. Near her, sitting at a piano, was what appeared to be a young man, his
sandy blonde hair falling into his eyes as he accompanied her.
The caption read: "Michiru plays violin at the exchange student ball (and
I was there! ^__^v) with some guy named Haruka Ten'ou."
---
My mind rushed over, under, and through, searching desperately for
answers that I was fairly certain I would never find. Not only had Michiru attended
my high school - the school that Hotaru's father had founded - but she and I had
played together on at least one occasion! Beyond that, I had never to my knowledge
served as ANYONE'S accompanist, let alone the accompanist of one Kaioh Michiru.
Something in the equation smelled, and I didn't like the scent. Not one bit.
But as confused as I was, I found myself very relieved at the same time.
It was as though my questions were finally coming to fruition in the best way
possible. I had known Michiru all along - at least, to some extent - and just
had forgotten. All my funny feelings were based off past experience after all,
it was just the trauma of my sister's death pushing those fonder memories away.
...or was it? I honestly had no answer.
I decided that I needed a break from thinking, and settled myself down
in front of the television. I could still catch the early afternoon news before
flicking to some meaningless made-for-TV movie and just turning into a total
couch potato. I even went as far as to make myself popcorn, and then plopped down,
ready to watch.
My first stop was the big, national news network. A smiling, cheeky
news anchor beamed at me. "Today's top story at noon," she grinned, her bright
eyes shining, "is Chiba Usagi's surge ahead in the race for Prime Minister. As you
may know, Chiba-san is the both the youngest candidate for the office in history
and the first female to make it past the primaries. The twenty-two year old had
great things to say about her race."
A beautiful blonde woman popped onto the screen. She was wearing a tight
and yet casual pink business suit. In her arms was not a "Vote for Chiba" sign but
a small child, most likely less than a year old. "I'm glad that the people are
stepping forward and voting for the person they believe in," stated the politician,
juggling her daughter as she leaned into the microphone. "It's time that we stopped
voting for the old big-wigs who think they know what's best for Japan's families
and started taking stock in families themselves. Of course, I will never have
everyone on my side - " She smiled sweetly at the thought. " - but it never hurts
knowing that you have someone who understands."
I found myself blinking at the screen long after the political story had
given way to a brief weather report. Chiba Usagi...? Why did the blonde on the
screen remind me of a free-spirited teen with funny odangos in her hair? And why
had her pigtailed child look so familiar?
Seizing the remote, I flipped to another news station.
"Mizuno Ami, twenty-two, has worked for years in an attempt to mimic low-
gravity situations on Earth," stated a balding newsman blandly as a news reel
rolled behind him. A woman with short, chic blue hair and bright blue eyes stepped
onto a podium and shook hands with several lab-coat wearing men. "She becomes
one of very few women to win the Nobel Prize for Physics. The United States has
high hopes for her program, saying that it would work well with NASA."
A swimming pool came to mind, a pool in which I laid on the diving board
and watched two women - one with short, blue hair, and the other with aqua waves -
race across the water.
I flicked the channel button.
"I was really honored to receive such homage for my work at the Shrine,"
a raven-haired miko was saying, holding a broom in front of her as she spoke into
the microphone. A raven was perched on her shoulder as she spoke. "I didn't think
that it was enough to be recognized as 'Someone You Should Know,' but I'm glad
that my work is appreciated."
The picture went back to a young, hip-looking male newscaster, who was
perched on the edge of his news desk. "And that, my friends, is why shrine maiden
Hino Rei is 'Someone You Should Know.'"
She was soaking wet, standing in an empty lot. Rain poured down around her
as she watched a young man with shaggy hair run away. I handed her my umbrella,
smiled sadly, and followed him out of the lot, feeling her eyes on me the entire
way.
Channel up.
A merry little jingle played as a brunette with a high ponytail pulled a
cake out of an oven. The picture shimmered to the same woman slicing scallions into
tiny pieces before sprinkling them atop some sort of dip. Another video clip
dropped down onto that one. This time, the brunette was rolling out some sort of
dough into a circle. "Cooking With Kino Makoto!" read the title as it zipped onto
the screen, the green and pink letters almost blinding.
I smiled at the brunette, stooping down on the ground to tie my scarf
around her hand. I had been careless on my bike, again, and she had barely managed
to save the life of her ditzy blonde friend. Lucky for her, the scratch wouldn't
scar...too badly, at least.
I flipped the channel once again.
A blonde stood in the middle of some sort of studio stage. In her long
hair was a ridiculous red bow, but it almost matched with her equally ridiculous
navy flared jeans and skin-tight orange halter top. "Today, we interview sexy
grandmothers who seduce younger men! Give it up for the Aino Minako Show!"
I smiled at her as she handed me a stuffed animal of some sort and jetted
off.
I turned off the TV and threw the remote at the wall in frustration. Why?!
Why did MORE visions plague me?!
And why, in my mind, could I see all five of those young women as teens,
standing high on a pet store windowsill and announcing themselves as the Sailor
Team?!
---
I tried to remain cool, calm, and collected for the rest of my Sunday,
but it was hard to. Between discovering that Michiru and I were classmates and
possibly friends in high school and seeing video clips of various women that
I thought I should know.... Well, it was disconcerting, I could easily say that
much.
Monday morning was full of sunshine and warmth, just as the last few days
had been. I had yet to decide whether or not I liked the Indian summer that had
come to greet Tokyo, but I managed to ignore the weather and walk into the locker
room, completely undetected.
When it came to my visions, memories, and other things, my mind was still
a complete and total blur. I didn't know what to think about all that, and I could
admit that.
When it came to Kaioh Michiru, however, my mind was made up. I could no
longer stand the thought of loving her in silence, especially after the soft,
gentle kiss we had shared. Perhaps Michiru was haunting my past, but living a
life without her would bring about a haunting future. A future without real love,
real belonging. I didn't like the thought of such a future.
I didn't like the thought of living without her.
My first period of gym that day went without a hitch. We were in the midst
of our basketball unit, so I had the simple task of teaching them how to dribble,
shoot, and block. Most the girls already knew how to play the sport, and those
who didn't learned quickly.
I watched them play three-on-three matches dully, not really caring what
happened. As long as there wasn't blood, I was happy as a clam. My mind focused on
what I would say to Michiru that day at lunch.
The reason I decided on lunch as the perfect time to breech such a delicate
topic was that I could have plenty of chances to escape if things started going
downhill. I didn't particularly want to be an escapist, but that was my nature.
I needed to have the opportunity to run away, just in case.
What to say was another story. I couldn't use the typical "I'm attracted
to you scenario" on her, because we were both females. We were tempted by society's
forbidden fruit, an apple so dangerous that we, like Adam and Eve before us, could
find ourselves ostracized in the blink of an eye. And maybe popular society wasn't
Eden, but in this world, it's close enough.
I couldn't just seize her in a passionate kiss and explain it away later.
No. I had to sit her down and rationally tell her everything. Both about how much
I loved her and about all the strange little flashes I had, flashes where I pictured
her and I as old friends. Her comment at the funeral had led me to believe that
she was having the same kinds of visions.
Now, it was time for me to bite the bullet and prove that.
I dismissed my class five minutes earlier than normal and followed them
down to the locker room, changing hastily into my "street" clothes of khakis and
a sweater. I look so...feminine, I thought to myself as I straightened my shaggy
hair in a bathroom mirror. Is this really the Haruka who comes out when I'm not
pretending? A gorgeous woman with such soulful gray-blue eyes?
The bell rang, and I found myself walking down the hallway to the
cafeteria.
Now, or never, I repeated in my head, the mantra firm and true.
I had to tell Michiru now..... And if I didn't, I never would.
---
She sat alone in the teacher's area of the cafeteria, her hair pulled back
into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was bent over both a Caesar salad
and a copy of that morning's "Tokyo Daily," and I didn't doubt the fact she was
busily reading. Part of me feared even bothering the aqua-haired beauty that
sat before me, afraid of what might happen if I disturbed her peace and happiness.
Now or never, I reminded myself firmly, my hands in my back pockets as
I walked toward the table. Tell her now, or don't ever. Bite the bullet, or take
the hit.
Did I dare?
"Ohayo, Michiru," I greeted the young woman at the table, moving to sit
across from her. Hadn't I read somewhere that men would rather sit across from the
people they want to talk to, and females sit beside them? Sometimes, I couldn't help
but wonder how much of my "pretending" was really actually my personality...
She glanced up from the paper, looked into my eyes, and smiled. "Oh,
Haruka!" she responded, folding shut the paper as she spoke. "I'm glad you're here!
I was wondering if you'd want to get an early dinner after work tomorrow and then
join me at this literary conference I'm going to. I think that..." She trailed off
suddenly, her face turning concerned. "Are you alright, Haruka?" she questioned,
cocking her head slightly to one side. "You look distracted, like something is
wrong..."
The lump in my throat began to choke me, so I swallowed my fear and nodded
solemnly. "I think we should talk, Michiru," I told her, my voice as steady as I
could force it to be. "There are things I've been meaning to say to you, and if
I wait any longer, I don't think I'll be able to say them at all."
Her face turned pale, and she nodded her assent. "Go right ahead," she
replied, smiling weakly. "I'm certain that, whatever it is that plagues you, it
won't end up being too bad."
Not too bad, I snorted inwardly. Yeah, right.
I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes. It was time.
"Michiru! Haruka!" squealed a voice, and I grimaced with all my might.
Of all the horrible times for Megumi to burst in on our conversations... The
redhead plopped into the chair beside Michiru and grinned maniacally at the both of
us. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I can't WAIT to tell you what just happened
in my English class!"
Sighing, I cupped my chin in a hand. "No, you're not interrupting at ALL,"
I retorted, the sarcasm biting but still going undetected by the Japanese teacher.
"You go right ahead."
And, much like she had a habit of doing, Megumi went right ahead.
---
I tried the rest of the day to find a chance to talk to Michiru, but it
seemed as though the same fate that allowed me to meet her was a fickle and humor-
filled fate. Because every time I looked for her, something - or someone - stood
in the way, making my life just a ball of angst and annoyance.
Seventh period in my schedule was a free period, and so I spent the time
wandering around the building in hopes of seeing Michiru. Her seventh period
wasn't free but a tutorial class, and my optimistic hope was, of course, that she
would be able to take a break from her students to speak with me.
I peeked my head into the music room and glanced around, only to see a
congregation of about twenty violin players sitting in the orchestral risers.
Michiru stood before them, her back turned to the group as she wrote what looked
like fingerings on the blackboard.
"Now, I know that some of the higher notes are difficult," she began,
placing her chalk on the ledge as she started to turn around, "but I think that
it should be easy enough if you really try..."
My heart sank. Her "tutorial" class was actually a group of beginning
violin players. Somehow, I should have guessed.
Eighth and ninth periods were, again, my time to teach bored freshman
girls how to play basketball. And, again, they went without a hitch. I found my
mind wandering, once again, to Michiru, and what I would have to say and do to
win her over. Or, more so, what I would have to say and do to NOT sound like a
total and complete idiot.
As I had before lunch, I rushed to dress back in my street clothes after
the school day was over. I had never before had so much energy on a Monday,
something that was both unusual and unnerving. Who would have ever guessed that
a woman would get me this shaken up?
I searched through the crowds of school girls as a lioness searches the
savanna for her prey. There, standing outside the front office, was the beautifully
graceful Kaioh Michiru, my one angel, the woman I would kill to spend forever with.
She stood alone, her back turned to the hallway, her form so utterly perfect, like
poetry in motion.
My steps sped up as soon as I spotted her. I HAD to catch her now, to talk
to her before anyone else did, to take her to some secluded classroom and bare my
soul. And I had to do it soon, before I lost my will to fight...and lost her as
part of that.
When I was about three or four steps shy of tapping her on the shoulder,
Meiou Setsuna stepped out of the office and smiled at Michiru. "Thank you for
waiting," I heard her say, her smile sweet and kind hearted. "Now, come with me,
and we can get another first aid kit for your classroom. I just don't know what
happened to the original one."
They walked away, their backs forever to me, as I stood in the middle of
a relatively empty hall.
My decision had been made for me.
---
Ringing that doorbell, that night, qualified as the most terrifying thing
I had ever done in my entire life.
I had done a lot of scary things in my few years, believe it or not, and
so you would think that ringing a doorbell would be nothing so out of the ordinary
as to strike fear into my heart. But it did all the same. I was more frightened of
Michiru's doorbell than the doorbell I rang the day my father died. Seeing my
mother, grieving for his loss while still furious with me... That paled in
comparison to what I was about to say to Michiru.
...Michiru...
For the first time in my life, I had waited patiently for this moment to
come. My trip home from school was calm and relaxing, and I took the time upon
getting home to enjoy the small things in life, such as opening a week's worth
of mail, catching up on the world events of the past week and a half... Things
that my Michiru-induced anxiety had been keeping me from all this time. And it
FELT relaxing, and reassuring, and wonderful... I was content.
Content in the name of that evening, at least.
So I stood before Michiru's apartment, my finger on the doorbell, a
bouquet of flowers clutched behind my back. The doorman had been unusually kind,
probably assuming me to be one of the violinist's many suitors. He let me into
the building, no questions asked, no arched eyebrows in my direction.
I was thankful for that.
I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.
Now or never.
It was almost thirty seconds after I rang the doorbell that Michiru came
to the door. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair tied up in
a high ponytail with a red ribbon. Her face lit up upon seeing me, and a genuinely
beautiful smile crossed her visage when I handed her the flowers.
"Haruka!" she exclaimed, pulling me and the floral arrangement into her
living room. "If I had known you were coming, I could have cleaned up a little!"
She gestured to the piles of schoolbooks and papers on her coffee table. "I was
trying to plan for this conference I'm going to in the winter and you - "
"I'm not staying long," I cut in, my hands clasped behind my back as I
spoke. She glanced at me, both confused and a bit hurt. I knew I sounded cross,
maybe even rude, but....
But.......
Now or never, Ten'ou, I cursed myself. Now...or never.
"Michiru," I gulped, my eyes closing with a will of their own, "we need
to talk about something."
She nodded and said nothing.
---
End Chapter VII.
---