Title: If dreams Came True; Chapter 12
Author: Lady Hesperide
Address: ladyhesp@hotmail.com
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and all its characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, not me, I don't have any claim to them. Also, this work of fanfiction is written purely for my own pleasure and that of others, I'm making no money here, so no one should have a problem. The story is fully mine, and the rights to that are mine as well, use the story for anything but enjoyment without my permission, I'll hunt you down and...... You get the idea, it will not be pretty.
Chapter 12
Three days later Haruka found herself on board a cruise liner for the dinner run. She was not much interested in the menu or the wondrous scenery to port, what caught her attention was the entertainment. Up on stage stood Kaiou Michiru, in a very pleasing full-skirted dress of a soft off-white with a red rose centered on the conservatively cut round neck, violin to chin, her whole body swaying with the feel of her music.
She was very good, Haruka had to admit that much. Her melody wrapped the head and tugged at the heart. There was in it a sense of both the self which is producing the music and the self which is hearing and perceiving it. Haruka had never experienced anything quite of that kind. The sensation reminded her of deep sea diving, where you have the feeling of drowning at first, but soon realize that there is a constant air supply available.
"That girl is Kaiou Michiru." She heard a man at her side say. The crowd was all well dressed - black tie affair - and even though his voice was low it was audible among the hushed diners to draw her attention to the conversation.
"She does not look like a junior high girl. She must be very popular at school," his female companion answered.
"I heard she does not make many friends."
"Why is that? She seems very nice." The woman sounded quite confused by such a prospect. Haruka, however, had no problem believing this. Knowing what she did of the other she realized her need to stay away from potential casualties, hold back.
Over the past few days Haruka had made herself deal with the fact that Michiru was the soldier come to try and make her take a path other then of her own choosing. The nightmares had given her no peace until she had consciously done so. Now she had resolved to simply tell Michiru face to face that she should leave her alone. She was not going to let dreams and spirits govern her life. Not if she had anything to say about it.
The music took on a longing note which turned disturbing in Haruka's troubled mind. Taking a last sip of her drink she left the hall, people and music for the quieter passages of the boat.
She did not know how long she'd been wondering around, lost in thought, when a painting stopped her. Titled 'End of the World', the painting lived up to its name. A wave of angry dark water was sweeping down at a city thrown in fiery shadows. People could be distinguished among the mayhem screaming with hands up in a vain attempt to protect themselves.
The whole was a nightmare scene.
Looking down for the signature of the artist she was only slightly surprised to see Michiru's name.
"How do you like it?" She heard a familiar voice say from behind her. Turning she saw that it was indeed the violinist, as if summoned by her thoughts.
Michiru sat down on a step, and looking up said with a smile in her voice, "You are more than welcome here, genius racer, Ten'ou Haruka!"
"You know a lot about me, don't you?" Haruka responded snidely. The other's calm, matter of fact manner was a bit unnerving. Not to mention that she was being all too friendly, and Haruka did not want to see her as anything more than the person trying to take away her control. "Did you paint this?" she asked turning back to the painting that had once more brought them together in close quarters.
"You're famous, aren't you?" Michiru went on ignoring Haruka's interruption of her thought pattern. "In my school there is much of your fandom." Her voice was lilting and smooth, like calm water. "One of them wants to ride along the coast with you in your car, even though she's a girl."
Haruka was once more engrossed by the painting, hardly hearing what Michiru said. "The end of the world… how could a pretty girl who won't hurt a fly paint such a horrible imaginary painting?"
Michiru started at the question. Her previously pleasant expression slipped away to be replaced by a severe intensity. "It is not imaginary!" she said, voice still low but she might as well have shouted. "I can see it clearly, as you can." The unwavering certainty of her statement disturbed Haruka more than the painting. Michiru's words lashed at her conscience with physical force.
"Ridiculous!" Haruka strove to brush the matter off. "I am Japan's first ever junior racer. Neither the memory of my previous life nor the end of the world is my business." Angrily, now, she turned on Michiru, "If it has to be done, why don't you do it?" She turned away from the other's expression. "I don't want you snooping around me anymore."
"Stop talking that way!" Haruka could not tell for sure, but she felt a note of hurt in the girl's voice along with the anger. "I don't want to do it either. I have a dream to be a violinist. I just can't keep on doing stupid things like saving the world from ruin."
But Haruka was already walking away, she wanted no part of this. For the rest of the journey Haruka made sure she neither heard nor saw the beautiful violinist. She'd had enough of this for now.
Michiru sat on the stairs for minutes after Haruka had gone. Part of it was true shock, but mostly disappointment. She had not realized Haruka was still so opposed to taking on her true calling. She thought maybe, after having some time to think things over from their last meeting Ten'ou would be better disposed to the truth.
Then again, this time she did hint to the truth, almost said it straight out. Oh hell, she did say it was her past life. Maybe, she was closer to admitting and accepting. Michiru hoped she was, for all of their sakes.
She got up and brushed down her skirt. Ten'ou might think business over for today, but she had another act to pull. Michiru spared a last glance at her painting and went back to the main room.
That night Haruka returned home with a head full of unsettling thoughts. She did not want to acknowledge what she knew, but it felt so wrong to go on with life as usual when she did know what her previous life demanded of her. Yet there was the very thing that rubbed her wrong, it demanded, and she hated being forced into anything.
Since early childhood she had known that there was something different about her. She was able to do more, push herself farther, to the point where it was considered almost physically impossible. At the same time as when her suspicions were confirmed she was forced to realize that she could depend on no one but herself to fulfill her dreams and aspirations.
Even now the memory was a painful one. She could see it clearly in her mind's eye, the sunny clear day, the white washed house, and her anguished cry of disillusionment. She had ran for miles before finally breaking down in sobs so strong her limbs twitched. Haruka had finally spent herself after nearly an hour of unsubsiding tears, and as her vision cleared she was able at last to notice her surroundings. She had made it clear across town and came, uncontiously, to one of her favorite places, a clearing near the park pond. The water was clear and cool, refreshing as it hit her face when she dunked in her head.
Once the tears were completely washed away she sat back on the balls of her heals and stared at her reflection, her mind blank from too much thought and pain. At first she watched the water without really noticing it, but then a soft wind blew over the pond, distorting the mirror-like surface, and Haruka's attention was caught by her rippling reflection. She looked down. The face in the water was her own, but only for a minute. She watched as the plains of her face shifted a bit, stretching and becoming more defined, sharper, until the reflection was no longer that of a child, but of an adult.
Haruka was too transfixed to break away. The face had to still be her, the eyes were still a singular blue-gray, the blond hair still fell over a high forehead. The adult's expression was infinitely sad, pain shining from the very depths of the eyes.
The reflection grew in circumference, the face became smaller, and now a body and scenery were visible. The face belonged to a warrior in pale gold and blue armor. A long thin sword, dripping blood, was in her hand. About her lay mangled bodies, but she took no satisfaction in her victory, she knew the real battle had not been won. If anything it was lost. The warrior with Haruka's future face walked to the side where a lone human body was crumpled on a patch of green grass. The body was swathed in aqua-marine cloth, the remnants of a dress probably. The warrior knelt down, letting the sword drop from her hand, and gathered the prone body into her lap.
"You have another chance," the warrior said looking up at Haruka. "There is only one who will be able to aid you, to be your companion. Don't waste your time on the trivialities of mortals, your destiny is greater. Follow the wind. Remember who you are. You and I are one, remember my lessons and do not fall into the same traps I did."
Haruka blinked in surprise and the vision dissipated, the water returned to its natural color, a reflection was missing from the surface. She backed away on all fours, all thought of betrayal gone to be replaced by surprise and a dash of fear. She retreated to the roots of an old willow tree, where she spent the whole afternoon and a better part of the night.
The next day no one recognized the Ten'ou Haruka who woke up.
Until the day she saw Kaiou Michiru for the first time in person Haruka had always listened to the armored warrior who lived in the deep, eternal, reaches of her mind. Now she urged Haruka to accept her real power, to take her place along side the warrior who came for her.
This goes against what you taught me all these years! Haruka could not help but protest. You said the choice was always mine, no matter what the situation. Why now, the one time when it will truly matter, do you want me to do that which I do not choose?
Because I am you as you are me, and you do wish to do what's right. You will make the choice when you are ready.
Haruka went over to her window and leaned out to let the wind play in her hair. In the end I will do what's right for me. No dream or girl can force my hand in this life.
The dream came again as it always did that night, as usual the soldier of sea begged her to help as the black one laughed above them. Haruka remained in her place, as she customarily did, unmoved by the other's appeals. However, something was different this time. This time as Haruka stood before the vision of destruction she did not feel her common confusion about her surroundings. They were now familiar to her, she had seen them in her waking hours. The scene she saw was that of Kaiou Michiru's painting, the one by which they had met just this past day.
When let to choose her path she will take the path of a soldier, not before.
There was an awful scream that split the darkness into shards. It echoed through the void and bounced around her eardrums. The awful sound went on and on, but as it did it became more focused. She could now feel where it came from, could feel her surroundings because of the echo of it much like a bat would. She opened eyes that weren't eyes and tried to focus in on where she was.
The scream died down as she started to discern her location. She was in some sort of forest. No, the trees were too sparse for a forest, this must be a park. Yes, she thought as she saw a wrought iron bench, and then a gravel path, this is a park. A park she knew well, she decided as a statue she recognized came into view once the clouds moved away from a nearly full moon sitting high in the sky.
It was then that she realized she was moving, running. She was running towards the source of the scream. It had come from just up ahead on the path. She knew what was there. All the little gravel paths of this park led to a fountain at its center. The fountain was surrounded by the same wrought iron benches as the one she had previously seen, the benches and fountain were a stamp of the park. Everyone knew this park. Lovers would come here to get away from the prying eyes of others', they would walk the winding paths, their curves a constant hiding place. They would sit on the benches at its center and tell each other small nothings, knowing that the roar of the falling water would prevent anyone else from hearing them.
She came to this park not to spend time with her love, but to think of her mission, to find her own center, on occasion to draw the couples by the fountain.
She followed the next bend of the path and came to a sharp stop in the circle of abandoned benches. But not deserted enough. There was no cloud over the moon to hide the terrible scene from Michiru's eyes. No roar of falling water to muffle the feeble cries or the malicious laughter.
Why did they always laugh? She thought disjointedly.
The laughing thing turned on her. "You!" it rumbled with disgust. It launched in her direction.
Michiru woke up with a jolt. At first she could not remember where she was, she could still see that thing jumping at her, claws glinting.
There was a second of panic that she was about to be sliced to pieces with those claws, but then she saw the red glare of her alarm clock. She was safe, she was at her apartment, in her bed. There was no heart stealing monster with gleaming claws here, the monster was nearly seven kilometers away, in the Enchanted Park. With that comforting thought prominent in her mind, Michiru rolled over and closed her eyes to go back to sleep.
Shit! The importance of her nightmare hit her like a bucket of ice water. Her eyes flew wide open again, and she struggled for her light sitting up in bed. Finally succeeding in turning on the lamp she stumbled toward her bedroom window, kicking the sheets aside as she went. She made it without falling flat on her face, a true feat when one considered that the floor was littered with books and the sheets seemed to have permanently tangled about her.
Once there, Michiru threw the window open, leaning out to stare up at the sky. If anyone had looked up from the street at that moment they would have gotten quite a show as Michiru's open night-shirt flapped in the gentle breeze, but this thought did not get even close to entering her mind, she was searching for the moon. She could clearly see the moon of her dream in her mind's eye, now all that remained was to find the one of tonight to compare the two.
After sticking most of her body out of the window, holding on precariously with only one hand, Michiru was able to spot the white orb. With the full sight of it she breathed a long sigh of relief and slumped down. Only to tense once more as she felt herself slip down.
Michiru grabbed for the frame of her window and scrambled inside to safety of her room. She sat on the floor under her open window and gathered her scattered blankets once more around herself. Her breathing slowed, then calmed completely as she did some quick calculations.
It was now one twenty-seven in the morning. The moon had not quite reached it's zenith yet. That meant the attack would take place at about two. The moon in her dream had also been close to full, no more than two nights away from it's completion. The body of light which hung out her window was a perfect half circle, that gave her some ten, thirteen days.
That was enough for now. In the morning I will look at the star charts at school. The danger had passed for the moment.
Michiru heaved another sigh and struggled back to bed. She curled up under her blankets, secure in their warmth and thought about Haruka. No one deserved to have to go through this. She had done okay alone so far, I am sure I could handle things by myself for a while longer. Maybe she should just concentrate on getting the talismans for now, and leave the racer alone with her dreams of glory for the time being.
Yes, I'll deal with the enemy as I have until now for a bit longer and approach Ten'ou again later, when I have something tangible to prove what is going on. Let her enjoy normal life for now. No one deserved to be haunted by these demons.
She drifted back into dreamless sleep.
The Professor stood over a wrack full of test tubes. The tubes were simmering over a row of Bunsen burners turned low, their greenish-yellow contents bubbled lazily just short of spilling over. The odor coming from these contents was rather noxious, but he and his assistants were used to the fumes hanging thick in the air.
"Ririnat, hand me that beaker of acid would you," he said over his shoulder. Ririnat was the first of his students whom he took into his council and personal service. There were others in her class who showed great potential, but she was the one with the best night vision, better than his own for that matter. Strange as it did sound, even to him, that particular ability was most valuable at this time of action.
Ririnat came over to wait for his attention at the side of the table. She had been working with the Professor for a month now and knew better than to disturb him even for something he had requested. Standing there, watching him work, she felt entranced. When at his most diabolic the Professor got a glint in his eye which, when amplified by his glasses, made him look the epitome of evil genius. His laugh, maniacal and booming, would fill the darkness and fill her with a sort of trepidation - a cross between fear and true inspiration.
She counted it a great break for her career that she was so quickly chosen to work with the Professor. This project was destined to be a turning point in the claiming of this world and it was the best, of opportunities to further her own power in the ranks of Mistress9.
The Professor finally turned to her, breaking her musings. "Now Ririnat, pour the acid into these three vials here. Make sure to spill nothing, the substance you are holding will eat through diamond." Without watching for her reaction to this disclosure he turned back to his experiments. "If I could get the ratio of this potion to the acid and the memory serum just right, I'll have an instant brain wipe. With such a substance we will dominate not only the elaborate animal in the basement, but all who oppose us!" Throwing his head back he broke out in thunderous laughter.
For a moment Ririnat only watched, admiring the play of light in his hair, then joined in the revelry. Her peals, however, did not last quite as long as the Professor's. A sudden thought struck her, if they did have the world, and revive the great Mistress fully, what place would there be for her exactly?
Surely the Professor, the Mistress' closest subordinate, would enter a high ranking position, But what of her, Ririnat, the not so humble assistant. She did not want to remain forever in the shadow of her mentor. Of course she admired the Professor's dedication and genius, but she would not at all mind stabbing him in the back if that was the only way for her to rise to her own power, she did not intend to work for him indefinitely.
Ririnat looked around her, then down at her own body. Look at me, she thought angrily, I am beautiful, smart, and rich, I deserve to be seen and adored, not to be stuck in a dark basement!
Her face set into a mask of hurt, hate, and cunning in equal parts. She would not remain in the dark her whole life. Her eyes shrunk to garnet slits as the seed of an idea germinated in her fertile brain.
"Come! We'll now check on the prisoner." The Professor chose that moment to break off his braying and disturb her thoughts.
Carefully whipping al emotion off her face, Ririnat reached into her coat for the keys to their 'guest's' cell. She knew that the main reason that the Professor chose her, and not that sniveling red-head, was her ability to deal and communicate with the prisoner as well as getting around in complete darkness.
The man- he reverted to a human male form after the first two days of imprisonment- lay sprawled on the stone floor in the far corner. In spite of his heavily drugged state he had been able to arrange himself in a more modest and comfortable position, this was an impressive feat and made Ririnat all the more cautious with his handling.
At the entrance stood a stainless steel table on wheels, a white sheet concealed its contents. It was on this table that Ririnat set her keys and a small notebook in which she kept detailed notes on the man's condition. Ririnat gave the table a little push and rolled it over to her charge. At the sight of her and the table his pupils dilated in recognition, his lip curled a bit in the imitation of a snarl he could not utter. The man was contious and aware of his surroundings, another odd fact to add to her observations.
Once she was near her prisoner she turned she turned back to the white sheet covering to reveal a set of stoppered tubes and syringes of varying sizes. Selecting a vial of clear liquid she emptied the contents into a syringe with a needle so thin that it was hardly visible.
She bent over the man and reached to take hold of his arm. Ririnat did not look at his body or face- she knew if she did she'd be in jeapordy of being too atracted to him to go on with her mission. Sometimes, however, her eyes would slide on over the smooth planes, as they did now. She held up the syringe and saw, to her surprise, the body relax. 'He knows the difference between his drugs!' she thought astoundedly.
This meant his immune system and brain capacity were much better equipped then she or the Professor expected. And since the Professor did not stoop to performing mandatory tasks for the prisoner he would not find out until she told him.
Ririnat plunged the needle of glucose compound into the man's arm and let a smile spread over her lips.
"There, there, dear," she crooned, "you are going to do much more then you expected, and you'll love performing my tasks much more." She petted his shoulder and left the room in a much better mood.
End of chapter 12