Author's note (1) - Similar to [take note], you should run along if run-on sentences aren't your thing.
Five times Minako wakes up
(or: upon waking)
...
Sometimes Minako wakes up needing to run - to jump, to fly - to do anything but be in bed. She'll throw off the covers and throw on her clothes with equal recklessness (Artemis and Rei will have a fit but she'll be long gone by the time they discover the mess).
The route is never the same on the days she wakes up like this. Sometimes she finds herself chasing the sun to the east, hitting the river that runs along the edge of town. She'll dodge the shadows from the highway overpass, busy even at this time in the morning, squinting at the sun reflecting off the water. Sometimes it reminds her of stage lights, sometimes a youma's attack (she tries to play off the flinch as if a bug bit her).
Sometimes she'll venture north into Roppongi, where dawn mutes the neon of the clubs and bars that line the streets there. She takes note of any new names, files them away for later that evening (no later than a couple of days; after all, she tells Artemis time and time again, it's satisfaction not curiosity that motivates her). There, she'll give in to a different need, trade concrete for pulsing beats and sun-kissed air for swaying hips (she makes a note to check Rei's schedule as well).
Sometimes she'll leave her apartment before there's any hint of light in the sky, that time of evening that's loath to give in to day. She runs to the west, towards the darkness - chasing, searching, hiding - as dawn slowly creeps up behind her. She curves south towards a hill she's travelled countless times in this lifetime (and the last, and the next). She's climbed these steps alone as many times as she has been accompanied; she's cried, laughed, and gasped up them like she is now a thousand times over.
Sometimes Rei is there, both a cup of water and a raised eyebrow at the ready. Sometimes Minako greets the dawn alone, lungs straining, muscles aching, but ready to jump, to fly (to fight, to live) into whatever the day will bring.
...
Sometimes Minako wakes up with a sob in her throat and tears in her eyes. Warm arms are never close behind, Rei murmuring softly into Minako's hair as she clings to her. Sometimes it's memories from the Silver Millennium, blood dripping down marble steps she and the others used to play on. Sometimes it's memories of battles from their current life, familiar things, familiar faces twisted and gnarled and screaming. Sometimes it's nameless, shapeless, filling her chest with a weightlessness that's all too familiar (Rei grounds her then, gives Minako back her own name edged with fire, arms tight enough to bruise, to remind her she's alive).
...
Sometimes Minako wakes up to their communicators beeping incessantly, urgently. Her body is up before her brain, pulling her stumbling out of bed. Sometimes she ends up throwing the covers off of Rei in the process, which is just as well: if Minako's up, Rei should be up too (shouldn't the second-in-command be in charge of things like this, she mutters; sometimes she gets a mumble in return, sometimes a pillow at a her head).
The voice on the other end always has an edge to it (would have to in order to send an alert at 3 in the morning) and it's that sharpness that cuts through the remnants of Minako's sleep-fog. She transforms and heads towards the location mentioned, Mars at her heels (and in her own heels) as they dash over rooftops. They light up the sky with their gifts, their promise to protect the dreams, the lives, of those still asleep so they can reach for them when they wake.
...
Sometimes Minako wakes up wanting. It fills her with a need to be fulfilled (not destiny but just as strong and she knows enough about both to know not to leave either ignored), grounds herself in the feel of sheets and the curve of Rei's neck - wake up, she urges with her voice, her hands, her lips, I need -
Sleep is driven quickly from their bed. Rei's fingers answer before her mouth does, tangling in Minako's hair, squeezing within Minako's grip. Sometimes there's a breathless laugh, a teasing murmur about impatience and insatiability. Sometimes there's surprise, a questioning concern (quickly soothed with lavish attention). Sometimes there's an answering moan and Rei does her best to simply follow where Minako leads her. Their heat burns away the dreams (the past, time itself), leaving a warm glow that carries them together into the dawn.
...
Sometimes Minako wakes up with a song in her head. Some days it's a song made by someone else, something she heard the day prior, on loop as she climbs out of bed and brushes her teeth. Other days it's one of her own songs and she hums along in between scales and sips of morning coffee.
Sometimes it's a song half-formed - a three-note melody, a phrase of a lyric - and she throws off the covers and dashes to her desk, pajamas and hair askew as she writes and writes and writes. She stops only when Artemis or Rei or both yell at her to eat, or when Shacho calls to remind her of her schedule. But even then, she'll continue writing - on the backs of receipts and napkins, her own arm if there's nothing resembling paper within reach.
When she returns home, she tosses her shoes aside, her jacket, her keys, her purse; she kisses Rei in the middle of a lecture, sits down at the keyboard and transcribes the scribbles from her collection of napkins and receipts and her own skin.
After a while - and no small amount of grumbling - Rei joins her on the bench, fiddling with chords as Minako sings. Minako's voice shifts from confident to halting, switches between Japanese and English, then back again, again - searching for the right note, the right word. Rei follows as best she can, repeats a chord when commanded, echoes Minako's grin when something lands just right.
They ignore the clock as evening deepens, their hands busy with black and white keys and paper. Sometimes Rei's voice rises softly in accompaniment, providing harmony where needed, dropping out where it's not, her eyes always turning to watch Minako. Rei knows they've got it when the furrow in Minako's brow smooths, when the tension in her shoulders disappear. They sway together as they go through the song in its entirety twice more - first for luck, second for love.
Minako goes to sleep with the new song in her head, warm in her throat, a smile on her face, and her heart content.
Author's note (2): In my head, Minako and Rei live somewhere in the middle of Azabu-juuban - not too far from Hikawa Shrine but enough to give Rei a sense of distance.
Fun facts:
The last sequence was written first and I pondered posting it by itself, but I wanted to see if I could write more so here we are.
Just watched La Reconquista; been a fan of the musicals for a while and I've gotta say, they did a great job doing something new.