Rakurai desu.
Let's call this chapter indulgence. The idea sparked in my head when I read everyone's comments about how they wanna see Naomi getting doomed.
This chapter is mostly about Michiru and her perspective. No HaruMichi here since I've already indulged in their moments more than enough chapters.
Disclaimer: I wish I own Sailor Moon.
"This way, please."
The police officer instructed as Michiru followed. The man, who appeared to be middle-aged with hairs greying around his temples, led her through a set of winding halls in the depths of the police station. They eventually reached what appeared to be an interrogation room.
The officer opened the grey door, allowing her access. Michiru was immediately met with Naomi's blank ruby orbs. Perceiving how the brunette was scrutinising her, Michiru was confident with how she presented herself. She was clad in a baby blue blouse adorned with a sailor collar, highlighted by a white ribbon drooping from the middle of her collar, and a creamy pencil skirt reaching above her knees. Finishing the set was Michiru's favourite pair of creamy heels with straps around the ankles.
Michiru was as breathtaking as ever.
Naomi, on the contrary, was in the sorriest of states. The brunette was dressed in a prison uniform: a light grey jumpsuit, its cuffs bunched up around Naomi's elbows, with an old pair of slip-ons for her feet. She was handcuffed, bound to the table in the center of the room by a slim metal chain.
Michiru fully stepped into the small room. Her eyes focused on Naomi for but a moment. Michiru's attention was instantly snatched away by the officer's flat, unemotional tone. "I'll be standing right outside."
The aqua-haired woman gave a slight nod before he closed the door. The officer gave a rough, loud clearing of his throat behind the grey door, hinting to the guest he expected absolutely no funny business. Michiru was unable to refrain from rolling her eyes at the officer's uncalled for behaviour; she had pulled many strings to be here, and she would act accordingly.
Michiru sat down on the chair opposite from Naomi, facing her.
For a long moment they sat there, saying nothing. Michiru quietly observed her, while Naomi had the gall to challenge her with a conceited stare—as if ironically unaware she was the one in chains.
"So," Naomi began, her tone strangely haughty. "How did you manage to get in here? Was it the same connection you used to keep me in chains for the rest of my life?"
"You could say that," Michiru's voice was even. Her expression composed. Her seated posture was straight and refined, and she exuded every bit of dignity.
"Come here to mock me?"
"It's a tempting thought," Michiru remarked, a slight lilt to her tone. Then she smiled. "Though I'm afraid I have to disappoint."
Naomi scowled, confused. "Then what are you here for, if not to laugh at me?"
"I'm only here to ponder a decision. Though I am grateful that you helped me arrive to my answer quickly." Michiru crossed her legs. Her mysterious smile grew by an inch. "Now I don't have to waste as much time with you."
The green-haired woman gave Naomi the most intense, judgemental stare she had ever seen in her entire life. Egotistical as she was, Naomi couldn't help but break out in cold sweat at the intensity of Michiru's eyes. It wasn't only her eyes that scared the brunette; Michiru's calculating smile was just as dangerous. Those features combined turned Michiru into a frightening, almost sadistic, woman.
"What decision?" Naomi ventured, feeling daring all of a sudden.
Michiru seemed pleased when Naomi asked that question. The violinist's cerulean orbs strayed. "I heard inmates would harm someone who commits immoral acts—" her words trailed off as her eyes returned to Naomi. Out of nowhere, Michiru's hooded eyes bore a sense of wicked amusement.
Cold sweat began to trickle down the brunette's temple when Michiru finished, "—with the right push, I'm sure you'll be thoroughly taken care of in prison for the remainder of your stay."
Naomi was bemused at first, but when the realisation of what Michiru had meant started settling in, her eyes gradually widened in absolute terror. Anger replaced her fear in a matter of seconds, and Naomi instantly launched herself at Michiru. The metal cuffs sharply protested as she pulled on them.
"You bitch!" Naomi cursed, attempting to claw at Michiru, but unable due to her restraints. "You think because you have money you can play with people's lives however it pleases you?!"
Upon hearing the yelling, the officer stationed outside burst into the room. "What's with the commotion?"
Michiru wasn't the least bit shaken by how vehement Naomi spat. She didn't even flinch; Michiru expected the predictable outburst. Even though her smile hadn't left her lips, the amusement in her cerulean depths was joined with something akin to sinisterness.
Pleased that she got what she came for, Michiru slowly stood, her poise still perfect, and headed for the door—not forgetting to leave behind a sarcastic comment.
"Have fun in prison."
Although Michiru was long gone, Naomi's curses and profanity echoed from the interrogation room, chasing after her silhouette like a persistent ghost.
As her hand guided the brush down an elegant line on the canvas, Michiru's mind began drifting back to her brief meeting with that girl. Initially, making Naomi's life more miserable wasn't her intention. Michiru was ready to let the girl off the hook. She was about to be lenient.
Yet, that girl had to provoke her head on with that overly vain attitude. Worse; Naomi didn't appear to have a repentant bone in her body.
Michiru wasn't a cruel person, though sometimes she was forced to be. And this was one such obligation that she had to see through. If it was a challenge Naomi was presenting to her, then Michiru would gladly respond. After all, the brunette had tested her patience when she toyed with Haruka—her Haruka.
Should she be allowed to pass the final judgement, Michiru would drown her in an ocean of boundless abyss a hundred times over.
Holding onto grievances wasn't something she'd normally do. For this brunette, however, Michiru might make an exception. When the thought crossed her mind, Michiru mulled it over a couple more times until she reached a decision with impish satisfaction.
So… a hellish life in prison it was.
"Michiru?" Setsuna's voice resounded from behind, putting a halt to her ever-moving paintbrush. Michiru returned the paintbrush back to its home on the wooden chair beside her.
She then turned around, regarding her housemate curiously. "Yes?"
Ever the wise woman that she was, Setsuna watched her carefully.
Michiru wasn't unnerved by her action. The violinist was used to it, in fact. Being quiet and observant were things that Setsuna constantly did—it was customary and comforting.
"Was there something you needed to talk to me about?" Michiru asked, smiling gently.
Setsuna moved to sit down in one of the sofas near the open window in Michiru's studio. "I heard you paid a visit to Haruka's newest conquest."
Michiru slightly furrowed her brows. That was this morning… How did Setsuna hear it? The violinist took one glance at her housemate. Setsuna's composure was perfectly composed. The woman must have put extra effort in it; for she gave away absolutely no indication of her thoughts.
To Setsuna's credit, the ever-stoic soldier must have seen through Michiru and understood her confusion, because she actually let out a chuckle.
"It's redundant to wonder how I know things," said Setsuna. "Surely, you have something more pertinent to ask me?"
Michiru's cerulean eyes strayed to her half-finished painting, expression pensive and faraway. Then, she asked, "Are you disappointed I did something unkind?"
Setsuna appeared thoughtful for a moment. "No. I am in no position to judge you on this, Michiru."
Michiru put on an amused smile. "But?"
"I have but two questions," Setsuna said. "Was she repentant?"
"No." Michiru was resolute.
"Would you still condemn her if you knew what made her such a fraudulent person?"
Setsuna's odd question gave her pause. Michiru arched a brow. "What do you mean?"
Setsuna wordlessly put a yellow folder on the round glass table between them. She nudged it toward the violinist. Curiosity piqued, Michiru fully turned towards her housemate, hand reaching for the file.
Contained inside the file was detailed information, including pictures, of Naomi.
Reading the content inside, a sense of enlightenment and pity washed over Michiru. She learned Naomi was mistreated by her family since childhood, and later on she was abused by boyfriends. For most of her life, Naomi had tasted nothing but betrayal and maltreatment.
It was no wonder the young woman learned to be devious and dishonest. The brunette only wanted someone's love and attention; and saw no problem gaining them the only way she knew how. These were learned behaviors, without a doubt.
Deciding she had learned enough, Michiru closed the file and set it down on the glass table. Her brows furrowed while she stared blankly at the folder—as if the inanimate object had offended her somehow.
"Are you expecting me to change my mind after reading this?" asked Michiru. The violinist gave Setsuna a level gaze.
"No," Setsuna reassured. "I only wanted you to know about her."
"You wanted me to learn she had a reason for her actions?"
"I want you to know everything that happened was not without reason," Setsuna calmly explained.
Michiru's perfect, elegant brows eased. "This doesn't change anything."
"I concur." Setsuna gently smiled. "Though I neither agree nor disagree with your actions, I believe they were necessary."
"You only wanted me to know," Michiru deduced.
"Yes. While I understand you don't care much for people who hurt Haruka, I advise you try to seeing things from different perspectives."
Michiru's eyes were downcast. Setsuna's words reverberated in her head as she mulled over them. This ordinary conversation might seem trivial on the surface, yet it was everything. The fact that Setsuna dedicated her time to finding out about Naomi, and then presented the truth to Michiru, spoke volumes about how much the Senshi of Time cared for her.
Setsuna seldom meddled in problems like this; Michiru understood that better than anyone. Yet here she was, telling Michiru to be kind; to not lose the best part of herself.
The violinist's eyes softened when she realised Setsuna's consideration for her. She returned her attention back to her fellow Senshi. "I appreciate you trying to help me. Trying to help me be better."
"It's my pleasure." Tenderness tugged at the corner of the older Senshi's eyes.
Pleasant silence encompassed the two woman in its embrace while understanding gazes wordlessly passed between them.
Remembering another act of concern from the tanned woman, Michiru's hands gathered on her lap as she crooned, "I've never properly thanked you for caring about me and Haruka, have I?"
"It's what I do, Michiru," Setsuna insisted, her tone sincere.
"I know, because you've opened up to us." Michiru smiled kind-heartedly. "I understand how hard it is to let people in… So thank you, Setsuna, for taking care of us."
When the words of appreciation left Michiru's lips, she could see—however subtle it was—a glimmer of exhilaration and joy dancing within the older woman's burgundy orbs. From that distinction alone, it occurred to Michiru that her housemate was grateful for her acknowledgement of Setsuna's kindness.
Their silent comprehension of each other was most welcoming.
It was strange, feeling someone's private, innermost depths. Outside of Haruka, Michiru had never felt this connected to someone before. And yet, Michiru found the feeling endearing. Unbeknownst to her, Setsuna had managed to cheer her up. Michiru hadn't realized she was troubled, but she felt better after their little talk.
Setsuna then stood up, her voice placid. "I should go and prepare lunch. I shall trouble you no more."
Michiru nodded, and Setsuna smiled tenderly. She left the room, with Michiru's cerulean orbs lingering at the door. The violinist's attention then returned to the unfinished painting. Picking up her brush, Michiru let herself get lost in the world of liberation and creativity once more.
As she left new strokes on the canvas, Michiru mused on how wonderful it was to be home again.
Thank you for reading.
Comments & reviews are welcomed.