Michiru looked out her window over the city, into the harbor. The sun was on the brink of the horizon, just an hour from it's setting. When she spotted the large cruise ship that was anchored there, she sighed. 'I had wished so much for you to meet me there, Haruka. If only I had given you that invitation—' she felt the tears welling up inside of her and looked away.

            "Michiru! Get down here!"

            Once she had regained her composure, she gathered up her clothing and violin and proceeded down the long, winding staircase. When she reached the front gate, her heart sank in her chest. "Oh, hello Brad."

            "Hey Michiru, I thought I'd surprise you. I'm coming with you to your concert tonight."

            'Perhaps he's not so bad after all,' Michiru thought and then said "That's nice of you, Brad. You didn't have to. I didn't think you liked classical music."

            "I don't," Brad answered shortly, "but how else am I going to keep an eye on who you're talking to?"

            Michiru sighed, 'I guess I was right to begin with,' she thought, 'why must I continue to stay with him?' She knew the answer to that, of course. Her mother would throw a fit if they broke up. How else would she brown-nose her way through the corporate world. It's not like she didn't have a high enough and well-paying position already. But she was obligated to her mother.

            She thought back to the time when her father had left. She had been eleven then. It had been just before she had met Haruka. That summer had changed her life in more ways than she could possibly have known at the time.

            When they arrived at the docks, Michiru stumbled out of the car with her bags. She didn't wish to ask Brad for help, so she struggled all the way to the ship, where a doorman took her bags and led her to her dressing room.

            The room was rather cramped and dimly lit, but it had a window that looked out onto the ocean, and Michiru was content just being able to watch the movements of the waves. She stood there for a while, wishing she could breath the fresh, salt air as well, and then she proceeded to get ready for the concert.

            Once she had put on her gown and applied all the makeup she thought was necessary, she slipped into her shoes, picked up her violin, and walked out the door.

            She came to a place above deck where she could lean over the rail and watch the waves. She stopped there and gazed out over the water. The ocean seemed to heave with her every sigh, and as she stood there she contemplated this. Why did the ocean always seem to match her mood? Anytime she was confused about what she felt, all she needed do was watch the movement of the waves and there she would find her answers.

            She must have been standing there for a long time, because the next thing she knew a man was telling her that she was needed onstage. Michiru picked up her violin and followed him in. She was led into a large dining hall, in the center of which was a raised platform. She had to admit, this was better than most of the places she had performed. The ship, of course, belonged to the company for which her mother worked. Michiru had long dreamt of becoming a violinist, and the only way her mother would let her play is if it was for her company. Yet another example of her incessant brownnosing.

            Michiru climbed the 3 steps onto the platform and took out her violin. She scanned the faces in the hall, but to her great dismay and great joy found not one familiar face. Neither Haruka nor Brad were there. 'Of course she's not here,' she thought. 'You never gave her the invitation, and now she'll never find you. How do you know that she even wants to? Of course. You just know.' Michiru was surprised, though incredibly relieved that Brad was not present.

With another quick glance around the room, she began to play one of her favorite concertos. The crowd seemed thoroughly impressed by her rendition of Mozart and applauded heartily. She had just lifted her violin to begin another piece, when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a familiar face. Michiru gasped. Haruka was there, in that same room, standing at the doorway, listening to her play. Their eyes met for a moment and then Michiru found herself beginning to play again. This time it was not Mozart that sounded through the hall, but a piece of her own invention. "Destiny" was the name of it, and Michiru fondly recalled the day that she had been inspired to write it. It had been the day she met Haruka. She had written it for Haruka, for everything that she knew when she looked into her eyes for the first time. As she finished the song, a roaring applause filled the hall. Michiru looked over to the doorway and locked eyes with Haruka. She saw tears flooding her eyes and wished to rush over to her right then to quell them. Michiru thought she looked just the way she had painted her so many times; sad, alone, and so very distant, as though a great expanse separated her from the rest of the world.

When Michiru finally managed to get her violin together and escape the adoring crowd that had surrounded her, Haruka was nowhere to be found. She went out to the spot where she had stood before and watched the waves. There she was a familiar face, but this was not the one she was searching for. This was a cold and angry face with fierce eyes. "Hello, Brad," Michiru greeted him. "Are you alright?"

"Hello, Michiru," his eyes flashed with rage as he spoke. "We need to talk."