Counseling

Pairing: Haruka Tenou and Michiru Kaiou

Summary: Michiru's mother sets her up for a counseling appointment.

AN: Ah- this was a long one- 2300++ words! But it was a little fulfilling to write- I've got so many things to do lately ugh D: I'm not sure about this story- I wanted it to turn out sexy and seductive but I don't (and can't) do that, so. I've read so many stories of Haruka as the one to get into trouble and see a counselor, but for a change, Michiru's the victim and Haruka's the counselor (or vice versa).

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon!

Enjoy!

Haruka Tenou found herself in yet another one of those head-splitting headaches. The last client had been nothing but trouble- and so, so shallow. How (just how-) could someone actually be so narcissistic and delusional to think that they were being chased down by secret societies; when their eyes told nothing but long nights of watching mystery drama episodes, and that their 'evidence' was their intuition?

(Besides, she's only a counselor- not a dream catcher or a private detective.)

Sometimes she wondered why she was actually working as a counselor (her excuses run in a silly loop: "Yeah, the clinic's my roommate's, so I'm paying the rental fees."; "Ah, well, it pays."; "I owe my… friend a favour.") and shoving her passion for racing to a second priority. Still, rental fees in Tokyo are unenviable- and the small bit of allowance she is given is enough for her to last the month. So Haruka bears with the disturbing amount of people who visit the clinic each day.

She checked the next on her list- some girl called 'Michiru Kaiou'. Trying to focus on the name (and not the way the dot on the 'i' blurs into tiny little splatters of fuzz that dance around her vision), Haruka recalled- ah, this was a very interesting case. Michiru Kaiou- the name of a girl (just one year younger than Haruka herself) who was an aspiring violinist and artist. The little mermaid who played barefooted on stage and lulled her audience to a drowning melody of despair and nostalgia.

The girl who was drowning.

Her mother had phoned- muttered, whispered, hissed in a frantic state and insisted that her daughter be set up for an appointment. That was rather ironic and hilarious, because Haruka thought that Michiru Kaiou's mother should have been the one sent for counseling instead. She was rambling on and on about the girl's music and her constant aloofness (a term which doting mothers substitute for 'arrogance'), talking about how her daughter only cared for the beach and made weird ocean metaphors. In short, Michiru Kaiou was not interested in boys.

Which was rather ironic as the homophobic mother plead her case to Haruka Tenou- the counselor who was not interested in specimens of the opposite gender.

Haruka had heard of Michiru Kaiou's music- it was volatile, expressive, gushing. It could be almost silent before it roared and came crashing down, a wall of water (or music?) washing over weary souls in the audience. Haruka would have loved to listen to Michiru Kaiou live, but her economical constraints made sure that she was working her ass off every day just to ensure her own existence. So she relied on the CD albums that her landlady (AKA roommate) always bought home.

It was no background melody- it demanded attention. It made sure that you were left wide-eyed and blank-faced after the songs were over. And it was painfully emotional for Haruka, who was forced to explore the same emotions of doubt, grief and angst in the same dull eyes of her clients. There were happier pieces, but they always ended on a withering note, as though Michiru Kaiou was placing a well-inked question mark at the end of "Happily Ever After".

Haruka really hoped that this Michiru Kaiou was not just another face with dull eyes.

"May I come in?" a voice said gently from the other side of the door.

"Please do."

The door was pushed open slowly, and Michiru Kaiou entered.

She was beautiful, Haruka acknowledged warily. But then again, she had seen many faces worthy of praise and compliment- only to be disgusted the second their lips opened. Her sea-green hair was not abnormal, but uncommon. Haruka wondered briefly if she had dyed it- but really, classical violinists with a penchant for composing miracles did not mix around with cheap dye.

"Kaiou-san, please have a seat."

"Thank you. I believe that you have been," here, Michiru Kaiou hesitated for a moment. "I believe that you have been expecting me- after Mother's frenzied call."

"We do expect our clients to turn up- after all the hassle undergone just to have an appointment," Haruka replied dryly, placing a hand on her appointment sheet.

"Ah, of course," Michiru Kaiou said, laughingly. "I meant that my case must have sounded intriguingly simple and boring after you've heard my mother speak."

The hair was probably naturally teal.

Michiru Kaiou continued, "I did not mean to bother you, or be a waste of your time. Mother was adamant that I visit a counselor, because my music was causing distress to my audience. I believe her exact words were… 'like a howling siren with a stuffed turkey as its soul'. She does not understand that depression is a motivating inspiration for most artists. I am not spared from this cliché."

Then again, it looked too pretty to be natural.

"And then," Michiru Kaiou said, an amused glint in her eyes, "-there is the problem of me turning down every single suitor that she has picked out for me. She believes that I am being too picky and fussy- at the ripe old age of twenty-two. So there- I cannot help but be apologetic for my mother's overly-worrisome attitude. If you do not mind, I shall leave now- seeing as you have a headache, and I, another concert to prepare for. Please do rest for the remainder of the hour."

And then, she stood up to leave. Haruka stared, stunned, before she started to chuckle. This girl- this lady- this Michiru Kaiou was sly. Sly and politely deceptive. In the same way that she had pretended to be conversational and friendly, she had shut herself out without revealing too much information.

All those anecdotes and casual complaints were carefully made, no doubt, to distract Haruka. She was well-prepared before entering the arena; obviously, she had no intention of opening her heart to a stranger. A stranger who was supposed to be a professional at picking out intangible illnesses.

"Please, wait a moment, Kaiou-san," Haruka called out.

Michiru Kaiou stiffened- it was obvious that she was slightly disappointed that her plan had not worked out well. But when she turned to face Haruka, the same polite smile was fixed on her face.

Her eyes were pretty- but cold.

"Is there anything else, Tenou-san?"

"I have been expecting you. Your case is a very… intriguing one. But it doesn't sound simple or boring."

"Do you say that to every single client you have?" A quirk of the eyebrow- a change of strategy.

"Do you say that to every single counselor you meet?"

Her eyes narrowed, but the smile remained.

"Ah," Michiru Kaiou said and nodded. "Of course. You have my file- from my mother, no doubt?"

Haruka merely smiled back in the same way (dead and polite). "Please, have a seat."

An unspoken 'the session has yet to end' lingered in the air between the both of them. Michiru Kaiou hesitated- exasperation flitting across her face for a second before she graciously accepted the offer and walked back to the plushy chair.

"Will you tell me what my file contains?"

"General information about your previous counselors, and how every session went, your grades, the usual."

"The usual?" Michiru Kaiou giggled. "Really- Tenou-san, I must remind you that I do not read documents detailing information regarding other people on a regular basis."

Again- with the faked informality and casualness.

"Tell me then- what do you think 'the usual' would include?" Haruka suggested.

"Well, I guess… Hobbies? Likes and dislikes… the usual," Michiru Kaiou added teasingly.

Michiru Kaiou was unreadable.

Haruka raised her eyebrows, and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk. "That's not fair."

"How is it unfair?"

"You were the one who was curious, in the first place."

Michiru Kaiou merely smiled. "You are trying to read me."

"That's what my job scope entails."

"I'm a little insulted, though. For one, am I really that uninteresting? Am I only another client?"

Haruka chuckled at Michiru's hurt face. "Am I only another counselor?"

"Touché."

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Her hair colour was probably natural- what with the brilliant shade of teal her eyes were. And her heart-shaped(?) face, with a pair of thin lips. Michiru Kaiou was beautiful, and definitely a charmer. But she was so shut in and isolated, building walls around herself. Then again, most people would feel the same if they were forced to talk to a shrink.

And then, Michiru Kaiou leaned forward, imitating Haruka's posture- she smelled of… the sea- lightly peppered with saltiness. "So, Tenou-san, allow me to propose an idea."

"Hm?"

"Let's read each other. For fun. Nothing strictly work related. Just… just something to pass the time, since I'm sure that you wouldn't want to explore my inner mind palace of terrifyingly childish angst and unspoken sorrows."

"On one condition- call me Haruka."

"Consider that done, Haruka." Michiru winked, and giggled. "Then, call me Michiru."

"You've got yourself a deal, Michiru."

Michiru's cheeky grin faded away, and she took on a more defensive voice. "Haruka- I just want to make sure- to be certain of something. My files should mention that I have been involved in relationships-"

"Michiru," Haruka interrupted, not wishing to face an outwardly alert and guarded Michiru. "Is it true that your first counselor was an old dude who asked you out on a date the very first second he saw you?"

Michiru's eyes widened, and she laughed. "Did they write that in the files? That's very kind of them."

"Huh? Wait- what? Don't tell me that it was the other way round?" Haruka exclaimed.

It was only fair for Haruka to drop her defenses if she expected Michiru to do the same. It was only an hour, and she wanted the other lady to be as honest as she could within this duration.

"Maa, perhaps," Michiru chuckled sheepishly.

That didn't mean that Haruka wasn't going to read her, though.

Haruka made a face. "That's very insulting!"

"Oh?"

"You didn't ask me out for a date the very first second you saw me. Am I worse than an old counselor with white eyebrows?"

Michiru shook her head. "Oh, my! But your hair is on its way to becoming white, too!"

"Do you have a fetish for old people? You tried your best to leave before I could say anything!" The words came tumbling out- and Haruka almost forgot to read Michiru.

"He was very conservative and shy- I asked for a date, allowed him to stammer and yammer and stare in shock while I escaped. It didn't take more than a minute, if I remember."

"Such a charmer, Michiru."

Her eyes looked prettier now that they were less cold.

"Takes one to know one, Haruka."

Michiru tilted her head and stared straight at Haruka, her lips curving into a genuine smile that reached her eyes. Haruka stared back, and thought that it would be such a chore to have to read Michiru- picking apart every single word in her sentences and measuring every inch of her smiles. Haruka never liked poetry lessons- where she had to dissect and analyse her favourite poems- reducing them to nothing but propaganda.

"Ne, Haruka, tell me what you think about my… case."

"You're strange."

"If that isn't part of the analysis, then I don't want to hear it."

"Well… about your music- it's terribly heart-wrenching and I hate you for that; my roommate plays it on a loop every day. You're worried about something- at least, I think you're worried about something. I can almost hear your thoughts when I listen to your music.

"As for the distress that your mother feels, I'd like to think that your music has left her sentimental and emotional (probably guilty). She can't help but feel that if you stopped producing such expressive music, her heartache would stop. I'd like to think that she's being selfish. You're right about depression being a very motivating inspiration…

"I don't think that you need counseling. You need to talk to someone. You need something called a 'friend', Michiru." And then Haruka sighed. "I can't read you."

"What about the second part?"

"You don't want to talk about it. I don't want to hear you talk about it."

"Isn't that the very essence of a counselor's job?" Michiru was leaning a back a little now.

Haruka shrugged, and nodded. "You're upset that your parents would think of love as something that's exclusive to heterosexual couples, but you don't really want to have to rebut them. You're not interested in males, given your… record. Or you're unhappy that your parents are deciding on your life choices for you. Either way, your parents are breathing down your neck and you're tired of them doing so, but you love them too much to destroy your image as a perfect princess. You're exasperated, of course."

Michiru nodded thoughtfully, and Haruka added bitterly, "But I really can't read you- of course, I might be over-reading and factoring in my own experiences, but my final verdict is that you don't need to see a counselor."

"That's too bad. I like you, Haruka."

"Ah."

Michiru looked amused. "Honestly, I have just confessed my undying love to you, and all you can come up with is that?"

"I have to distribute my love to all my clients, Michiru. Now, now, are you going to dump me for another counselor?"

"I've learned my lesson- enough to know that counselors are all multiple-timers." Michiru gave a dramatic sigh. "And here I was, thinking that you were different."

Haruka glanced at the clock- the hour was almost up. "Hey, you still haven't told me about your analysis- what you read from me-"

"Till next time, Haruka."

"Next time?"

"You didn't think I would give up on a chance to seduce my promiscuous counselor, did you?" A pause, and then sincerely whispered, "I think I really like talking to you, Haruka."

"Just talking?" Haruka piped up, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Michiru giggled, "Don't push it too far, Tenou-san."

AN: Just like what I expected- major flirt fests. Geez.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated!