Authors notes:
Once again thank you everyone who has reviewed!It is a good thing that this next chapter in our story will be semi tense. I'm looking for a new job and it always makes me feel kinda all..like the bad kinda butterflies inside. (found one, lawn and garden! Wee?)
Even though if I hadn't been working at Starhell, I probably would have never written this. (although moving out to the west to be with my girlfriend helped a lot) The stress is getting to be too much, since there doesn't seem to be enough people to cover the shifts. ; and I've been alone for wayyyy too much under rushes and..:scarred for life:
Anyway! I am listening to the Kingdom Hearts I soundtrack to write, the very first song is nice for this beginning here I think. So follow along if you happen to have it lol.
Ps. Thank you to Saun for reviewing. Check her out here on for more Excellent Haruka and Michiru stories!
P.s.s woo I thought I deleted something in this chapter that I needed oo; :flail: me'sa spaz.
This next little tid bit, I didn't know where to stick it this is a mini chapter (kinda mini o.o) to the one before (Taste). More to come, stick with me! I'll update real soon, maybe even tonight with the next chapter and they'll meet. I promise!
Its so bad cause I got out of writing, I should have finished it before I got so distracted again. :sigh:
Okay..Im going to try again, doesn't help I'm having yearnings to write a sequel to 'love lore' which is completely opposite, ie: fantasy, Michi's a mermaid, Ruka has wings, etc XD;;
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Taste

What felt like hours had passed. Michiru watched the shadows dance across the long since faded Victorian wall paper, which was as brittle in places as a dried rose. The wind was wet and blowing fiercely outside. She imagined that by morning the rain would have pelted off all the petals on the roses climbing the lattice outside her balcony. In her minds eye she imagined the layer of petals collecting on the dewy grass, laden with raindrops and silky to the touch from the saturation. Even though this was her first warm season here, she knew that this morning's late spring rain would make the day smell fresh and clean. The alley cats would be busily cleaning the mud from their fur and begging for fresh scraps and likely a rainbow might bless the grey marbled skies. However peaceful it promised to be though, the wind caused her body to shift restlessly, as it blew in excited whirls of unsettlement and change. Her stomach flitted with butterflies, only they were of a nervous anticipation. She tossed and turned for what seemed like ages. Finally Monsieur got annoyed with this; Getting up, he settled on a pile of soft clothes laying on a chair by the bed. He kneaded lightly as he watched his new mistress curiously. Every once and awhile his ears would flick at the nearest little sound; A mouse scurrying in the walls, a creaking tree branch, a distant rumble of thunder, even the persistent raindrops that snuck through the old crumbling fireplace chimney. They hit the ashy skeletal remains of aspen or pine that the current owners must've burned, years ago.

As the fierce rain finally began to tamper off, it was nearly four am. What irritated her most about this night, was that whatever it was that beckoned to her consistently, was so near. That presence, or feeling of someone or something so close from her dreams she could almost smell it on the wind. It was carried in the scent of the saltwater, perhaps some thirty or forty miles away. It almost called for her in its demanding presence, yet she couldn't find it. It was somewhere she couldn't just walk to. Somewhere or something she knew if she had tried to find, might be gone before she could arrive.

She had no idea how, but whatever it was wouldn't let up.

Michiru whimpered in frustration, her eyes were so eager for sleep, but her mind and soul were restless. She needed this something; As though it were a missing part of herself all this time and she just let herself realise it. And the rain, however helpful at bringing its scent and presence, kept it from her just as much. The forbidding fog and mist kept her from seeing the paths and direction. Besides, a place she didn't know to begin with and going to a place she's never been before, was fruitless.

This anxious call was so overwhelming, sad, powerful, strong and yet fragile at the same time. It made her remember, and it made her dream; Old dreams that she had been having since she were little, of palaces and royalty, deception and scandal, love and friendship. Sometimes either laughter or tears echoed back to her in these black and white visions. Although the person speaking was fuzzy in outline and their mouth moved slowly, the words would still reach her mind in fluid replay as though she were recalling a true to life memory. They were soundless and sometimes the dream faded in and out, crackling like an old fashioned movie, captured as if in a slow moving flip book. This did not effect the stream of words and sights which always confused and amazed her. Flame licked wars, flashes of power through light, a crumbling kingdom, anguished yells of pain and anger, a glowing sword and always a mirror. Why?

But lately, the dreams were tender, pure and lovely as she watched a lover(possibly her own?) spent from love making, reaching for her.
All these dreams made her cry out in screams or sometimes moans. Shed weep silently and ached so forcefully that it felt as though there were a tare in her chest, and it throbbed. Tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered then the beaches at home as well. How soft and white the sand looked in the morning, how warm it was to walk against it midday, to feel it shift against her toes and heels. She missed the ocean. Even if her parents didn't know her, she had felt secure, they did support most of her interests, she reasoned. Wincing, Michiru remembered how confused and sad her parents looked when she told them she was going away. They tried to show her how hard it would be, but she thought with love, she could do anything.
Maybe she should go back? She didn't think she could do this any longer, being who she was alone.

Who was she kidding?

However to this thought, the wind grew louder, persistent and in turn, Michiru silently cried harder from guilt and persecution.
Finally with a sigh Michiru threw the covers back and got up walking over first to the window, and then out onto her balcony. The wind picked up her hair and tossed it behind her, thin strands slid across her lips and over her eyes as she stood shivering in its wake. The weeping skies had at last dried up, but the chill remained.
"What do you want.." She whispered eyes closed. The sound was so sad, and yet empowering, inspiring. Michiru opened her eyes searching the sky. She longed for the beaches, where she could always think and gather herself. Everything had made sense in the waters then.
The wind still wasn't satisfied. Michiru suddenly turned and went inside, pulling her violin case from under her bed and wiped the dust free. Opening it, she lifted out her reddish golden violin and gingerly picked up her bow, she simply held it the wind blowing her sketches across the floor, drifting through the air like petals.

"I can't.. its like the notes are frozen inside.." She tried to explain.

But the wind wouldn't hear of it, and protested till she stepped outside again, holding her violin like it were a stillborn child in her arms. The wind still nagged her, but gently.
"But I'm so scared.. I'm not ready.." She whispered out loud again.

Like a sigh, the wind blew gently against her cheeks and teased her night dress and skin.

"Who am I supposed to find, why do I dream of them every night .. Why.." Michiru sniffled, then her eyes froze onto something drifting down from above. She leaned out and caught an ivory petal. Turning and looking up, towards her left of the building, was Lady Anigusta's balcony.
The strong yet delicate woman held a small bouquet of lilies in her arms and was pulling off the petals, releasing them into the night. She said a few words as she did so, as if in remembrance.

"Lady.." Michiru began transfixed, "Does the wind keep you restless at night as well.. does it call to you.. make you burn inside, with ambition but no hope?" Eagerly she watched. There was something about what she was doing, what it meant to her, why she did it, that touched Michiru's heart. It was although she also had lost something, and remembered it, giving it her respect somehow. She wished she knew.
Anigusta dropped the last of her petals before looking down and into the anxious eyes of Michiru. She raised her hand slowly in acknowledgement and bowed before going inside.

After that, it only seemed natural then, when Michiru raised her violin and posed the bow. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she drew out the first thick note, her fingers trilling, giving her emotions a voice box. The bittersweet sounds soared like voice. She played with all the intensity she could feel, all of the anguish, the confusion, the pain, the awareness, the cruel beautiful sense of self that haunted and kept her company each day. She played for her past, she acknowledged all the people who ever meant anything to her. The piece had no boundaries of sheet music, no score, no bar lines. It was freelance, without rules or exceptions. It was raw, like the wounds nicking her heart. She expressed her hidden longing, her concern, her passion, and the joy she felt in her dreams. Michiru concentrated then only on that person in her dreams then, their scent, like the wind. Their gentle eyes, their soft fingers as they brushed her cheek and lips. How the air smelled like salt, and rain. She played so intensely her fingers throbbed, the small miscellaneous cuts she had got at work stung. Her body shook as she pushed it to the limits trying to gain some peace from the intensity of her feelings. Finally, she slowed and carried out the last few shaky notes, letting her body relax, feeling not really joy but relief. The air seemed so still and silent after that long, powerful confession. She held her breath, lowering her violin, head bowed and panted hoarsely. "I wish I knew you…"

There was a soft rustle beside her, and a flash of white, like a falling dove. Jumping a bit she looked over seeing a single white lily at her feet, tied with a blue ribbon. Picking it up, she glanced up and saw Lady Anigusta, nodding to her, a faint smile on her touched face. Her cheeks glistened from tears. Michiru held her eyes understanding. She brushed the flower against her cheek, absentmindedly taking in its scent, she noticed as Lady Anigusta mouthed just like the others in her dream. 'Come, when you are ready. I'll tell.' Turning then she drifted back inside. A few people stood on the street or leaned out of their windows, watching. Some looked lost in their thoughts and others stared out enchanted.

Michiru suddenly, finally, felt tired. She swayed on the spot, as if these feelings has possessed her and for now let her free. As though she had performed some ritual which drained her physically, she was depleted of energy. She had no idea what she had played, if it was actually music or just noises, she was too deep in thought to pay attention to her hands. It was just a sort of zoning out she would do, like when her eyes unfocussed when she sketched. But to have been acknowledged by Lady Anigusta, well it must have been something. She sat her lily in a glass of water, and fell into bed after putting her violin away again. Somehow her song made the wind calm, and even the piano was silent now. It didn't matter though, because within minutes Michiru was asleep, but she did not dream anymore that morning. Monsieur regained his rightful place against her side and dozed with her till sometime before eleven.

That mid afternoon was as grey as any other in that week, as Michiru ate her 'brunch'. She sat with Monsieur who was on her lap, eating bacon out of her one hand as she sipped tea and ate toast with the other. Her little table was pushed so she could look outside. It was getting more crowded then ever, but thankfully the festival would be over in less then a week. She hated it, the other artists and musicians hated it. And she especially hated the mobs of coffee zombies at work lately.

Michiru watched the comings and goings somehow feeling very old, till she stiffened suddenly. A car which looked all too familiar passed through, down the street right in front of her apartment building. A car which looked so out of place here. A jocks dream car.

"No.. It couldn't be.." She muttered into her teacup, her heart pounding. "Why..how.." her mind raced for answers.

"Damned city festival.." The cat sensing her tension decided it was time to get up, so he heavily jumped down and walked over to the ceramic dish, looking at her half expectantly. Michiru feeling the lazy jade gaze, looked over and her eyes softened.

"Well, we'll just try to lay low for awhile, huh?" She said to the cat who meowed hungrily back at her.

'And let's just hope football jock heads doesn't like coffee.' She laughed lightly to this thought, and poured some kitty crunches into Monsieur's adopted bowl, who licked up the first few pieces crunching them happily.

A moment later she heard some shuffling outside her door, and then there was a knock, Michiru looked up warily. She stood pulling her robe around her frame more tightly and lifted on her tiptoes to look out the peephole, confused she saw nothing there. Frowning she heard another knock and was perhaps it was some sort of prank. Cracking open the mail slot she looked into bright raspberry eyes and was greeted with peppermint breath. Sighing in relief she opened the door and a small girl with cherry coloured hair looked up at her clutching holding a panda bear in one arm and a small fragile looking envelope in another.

"Halloo MissMichiru!" She said squeaked happily and held out a sticky peppermint stained envelope. It was yellowed and brittle, smelling like flowers and hand made with intricate gold swirls and her name in fancy cramped cursive fit for any pianist who is used to writing notes in margins of sheet music.

"Chibi Cherry-chan, have you been into the sweets again?"

The nickname was something her mother gave her partly because she missed the blossoms in Japan, and partly because America had made such a impression on her so she just named her after the blossoms but with the American nick name too. Michiru took the note and pretended to put her hand on her hips, Cherry however just giggled.

"Cherry-chan! Time for your bath!" Hana, her mother, called just down the hall.

"I gotsa go now, Misshiru!"

She ran her usual greeting for Michiru together in a hurry, and bowed zooming down the hall and into the arms of her young mother. Michiru just smiled and closed the door. Monsieur circled her legs once and then hopped up on the small table they had been sitting in, his striped ginger tail swishing gently as he watched a bird twittering madly in the bird bath below.

Michiru's hands shook a bit as she carefully pealed open the ancient document, knowing already from the scent of lilies and the script who it was from. These cards were used in the Victorian times as calling cards, and were custom for forming friendships and social etiquette. She never saw one before, and only read about them in books. She marvelled the hand painted details, this one displaying a lovely array of yellow rose blossoms, for friendship and sparrows for spring. She missed such customs when the only personal touch to cards these days was the signature at the bottom. Michiru flipped the card over and read the tiny script, done with fountain pen, of course.

'Lady Anigusta requests the company of one Michiru Kaiou
today at twelve for attending an afternoon tea.
Please leave your response with Monsieur by at least no later
then fifteen minutes prior the requested time.'

Michirucocked an eyebrow to the fluffy gentleman at her feet, who sniffed the air a bit recognising the scent of lilies and swished his tail in response. His intense stare turned from the bird to the card as if he had been trained for it. As if scolding her haste in reply, he meowed to her and cleaned his paw disdainfully.

"Alright then, I'll reply!" She smiled touched by the tiny card and wished that some traditions wouldn't have faded away with time.

Walking to her mantle, she got down a small mother of pearl box and from it withdrew a small ornate card with a tiny silk teal ribbon woven throughout the border and adorned with bachelor buttons, a lovely wild flower with blue petals which edges are fringed at the tip. These had been the gift Lady gave her when she first moved in, along with a light blue feathered ink quill, which Monsieur batted at consistently as Michiru penned a reply.

When she had received the cards she thought they were lovely but never knew shed ever have a use for them; Apparently Lady Anigusta had a plan behind her madness

Michiru laid the quill down and Monsieur was alert again, his puffed whiskers out in adorable concentration. Michiru was a bit doubtful, but held out the card to the ginger tom. He sniffed it once and then took it delicately in his mouth. Amused, she opened the balcony doors and the cat padded outside, jumped and climbed the terrace hoping up onto Lady Anigusta's balcony, as if he had done it a million times, and Michiru laughed lightened.

"Ah! Its twenty 'til now, I better get ready." Skidding down the halls, Michiru jumped into the shower, desperate to wash off the stale air that being up most of the night tossing and turning causes. She decided to play along and took out this old gown she bought at one of the second hand stores here, of course all the second hand stores here were vintage and more like antique stores. It was a light blue cotton print day dress from the mid 19th century. It's shoulders puffed on fitted sleeves, and a high collar buttoned just above her throat. A blue silk ribbon ran in a thin strip out lining the bottom ruffle, and tiny navy buttons aligned along the front and one on each wrist. To top it off she pulled back her hair with mother of pearl hair combs and bobby pins.
Feeling like a young lady going to her first real tea party, Michiru left her apartment, loving this town more then ever.

------

Earlier that morning, a very annoyed blonde in a jacket and baseball cap had stood in front of a sea side hotel looking exasperated.

"Were very sorry sir, the hotel is booked until this weekend." The older man said with a slight accent peering at her clothes through his very large spectacles.

"But I booked that room enough time in advance ..This is ridiculous."

"These things do happen sometimes, Sir. I've never seen this hotel so busy as lately with that festival so close, you understand. Likely your request got thrown out by mistake or disregarded. Would you like a refund, or perhaps you could rebook next-"

"No, just a refund.." Haruka muttered as she noted the signal on her cell phone was dead out here also, but then she realised no one back in the city would be wondering where she were anyway. She shrugged and pocketed her advance payment on the room and walked outside. A bunch of children in swimsuits ran by giggling, carrying in a ton of sand with them. Somehow that made her feel a bit better.

Well she could always still make the best of things. But that would mean she would have to stay at the beach house her parents more or less gave her, being too old to really use and take care of it any longer.

The beach house was what she spent her summers as a child growing up in; In the winters she lived and was schooled in the city. The beach house was just on the outskirts of Artists Alley, about thirty miles away to be exact. Every Sunday after church (In which she dozed a lot and itched at her woollen dresses that she was insisted upon to wear) she remembered having piano lessons in the alley. Then her parents and her would eat dinner on the beach afterward. She wondered how her old piano teacher was, the last she had seen her was when she told her of her engagement to Morgan. After she moved to the city she lost track of everyone. She was guilty reminded of her teacher telling her to practice, remarking how well she played, telling her to be a concert pianist. She remembered to this day exactly what the woman said to her.

"Haruka, with your talent, I can't see you being more suited then on a stage in lights, and a huge audience, bigger then anything this alley could offer." She had remarked how it was because of the wonderful teacher, how she saw her being famous someday. Her teacher laughed shaking her head.

"I'm too old now, and my heart is too broken to play anything with such a light purity of heart as the young can. They don't want to hear my sad songs Haruka, go out and write songs that make people want to sing, or cry, or laugh.. Do you understand?" Haruka's forehead crumpled in adolescent understanding but she nodded slightly. Tentatively as if she contemplated saying something to this, she reached out pressing a few keys.

"But, I really want to drive race cars when I get older." Haruka blushed, she hadn't told anyone that. Of course her father secretly wanted her to go into music, her mother wanted her to have a more dignified carrier, and marry a doctor or something along those lines.

Her teacher shook her head sighing.

"Haruka you can do both but promise me, never to give up on your music. Someday it might be your only friend, able to understand what you're trying so hard to express. It might be your only language to convey the feelings in your heart, for those have no words." Haruka nodded her eyes un focusing on the glossy hardwood of the upright piano.

"I will-"

------------------

"Lady Anigusta..?"

Michiru said knocking once and then opening the door. She smiled and offered a curtsy to the older woman who was delighted by her presence and outfit.

"Come in! .. Ah Michiru my dear, right on time!" She herself was in a red crushed velour dress, with pearl buttons at the wrist and a brooch at her throat.

"How lovely of you to play along with such an old woman like me. Bless you." Monsieur looked her way from Lady's lap and jumped down circling her feet. He sniffed her dress and nudged it approvingly, but the dress was all frills beneath and nothing to support him, so he nearly fell over.

"Here my good gentleman, for being such a obedient messenger." Lady Anigusta laid down a small ceramic dish of tuna, which he was accustomed to getting after giving out messages. He ran over to it as fast as his squat legs could carry, Michiru giggled.

"How rude of me, Please make yourself at home Lady Michiru, I was just about to fetch the kettle."

"Oh no, let me." Michiru got the small tea kettle and served them both, after all by now Anigusta was at least in her seventies.

"Now, now. I might be old but I can still get around as much as before!" Lady laughed, although Michiru could tell she was grateful, as the kettle was real copper and slightly heavy.

"Its just these arthritic fingers, all those years and years of banging on those piano keys I'm afraid." She offered Michiru the sugar bowl.

"Speaking of which, You haven't played again since this morning, I'm surprised." Michiru glanced to the upright piano, lovingly seasoned past its prime.

"Ah well, the tourists will be thicker then ever today, and I don't want to attract anymore attention to this poor place." Michiru nodded, it made sense, seeing how her music was like a beacon. "Not to mention all of my pupils have been picketing or rallying...Why if I was still a young girl, I'd be right out there with them!" She gave a jovial laugh and sipped her tea. Monsieur jumped into a vacant seat and watched them as if he really were a gentleman invited to the tea party. Michiru watched him sniff the cream pitcher oh so innocently while she plotted how to approach the subject of Anigusta's intimate playing.

"No, I mean, the other music.. " Lady Anigusta adverted her eyes and stared at a sepia toned photograph, and Michiru tried to tread as lightly as though on eggshells.

"You're music is so inspiring and beautiful... Although I have a feeling, the inspiration from which it came must've been...very painful.." Lady Anigusta nodded and reached out picking up the photo. It was a much younger version of herself, in a flowing black rayon gown, with a halter neckline, open backed with a bow that brought up the front and tied behind the neck. Two strands of rhinestones outlined the bodice and the hem of the waistline. A black feathered boa and strands of pearls hung on her neck and about her shoulders. She looked so beautiful and happy.
And at her side stood a beaming young man, no a woman with short cropped hair and friendly eyes. The suit looked like it had been borrowed for it hung a bit past the wrists and the legs could have been taken in a bit, but she had looked like the life of the party, charming, yet nice. Michiru blushed. There was a lily in the suit breast pocket.

"Oh... yes it was a very painful time. I was so much in love then. Of course, you know this was me here." She pointed to the young woman in the black rayon dress. "And this was my lover, Myia, although back then she was asked to be called Michael." She sighed placing the picture frame down, and Michiru delicately pulled the cream pitcher away from Monsieur's outreached paw. He licked his whiskers and seemed to pout, ears flicking back.

"You can't tell here, but Michael had bright coppery red hair, and a light dusting of freckles just along her nose."

Michiru played with her tea cake, wanting to ask a million questions but knowing that she must be patient. She nodded for her to continue feeling a knot forming in her stomach.

"Back then we were like the King and Queen of the alley...This place was nothing but sisterhoods and brotherhoods of artists, musicians, drag queens, and dikes. We were all loved and respected. The town ours, just for us, only for ones like us. The only place we could call home. The people in the city didn't bother us because of how remote the alley was as long as we didn't come there… And if the police gave us any trouble, we would hide in the bomb shelters until it was safe. There was a very tight knit web of communication we had, you had to have one then. It was dangerous for people like us, not to say were completely hate free now...but...the things I've seen..." Her eyes dampened, Michiru's eyes did as well.

"You don't have to continue if its too much.."

But she did, as if she couldn't even hear her now, as if she needed to say it before her soul would at peace.

"After one terrible raid in particular...I hadn't seen Michael for days. I was so scared, I thought…I thought the worst... Finally when she returned, her suit was gone and replaced with a black mourning dress, and she styled her hair, it was no longer slicked back like she used to. One of her best friends had been raped and beaten to death during a police bust. And it was Myia, not Michael who said goodbye to me then.. They scared her so bad, she just broke!" Her voice shook and Michiru brushed away a tear not wanting to imagine her latte woman beaten like that, her face bruised and battered, she could scarcely let herself feel that pain but even so it was too much to think about.
"It was like the woman I knew died, she had no emotion at all anymore. I cried, I begged, I told her we could run away, away from it all together... She told me if even the alley wasn't safe, there was no place for us. She had an engagement with another man that she never gave him an answer to, and that she seriously considered telling him yes." Michiru looked down her fists wrinkling the sky blue fabric. "I knew why she had done it, in some weird way, she was keeping me safe; kept us from the light of ridicule by backing down. Even under the weight of life, the heart lets go. In her mind I think she thought she was showing me the ultimate love by letting me go. Protecting me the only way she could, by sacrificing us." Michiru hated to admit it, but somehow she understood that logic, although it felt bitter like poison.
"Although that's how I like to think of it as...It's possible she never really knew for sure if she loved me at all or not. No one really allowed their self to know for sure, then. It was a time of fear."

Michiru shook her head. "I'm sure that's not true." A tear slid down her cheek.

"Perhaps...or perhaps not. First loves are as changeable and fragile as summer flowers. Coincidentally, one of my old students is engaged to my ex lover's daughter. When she had stopped by and told me they were engaged, I nearly died. She was fresh out of high school and so in love. I hadn't heard of Myia since the day the wedding was in the paper. I had always hoped she would return to me when things calmed down in the world for us. But...knowing she had a daughter. Well it's silly of me to not to have moved on, isn't it?" Lady Anigusta finished her tea. "Perhaps if I had seen the change for myself, I would have gotten some sort of closure. To me, my Michael is still out there. My first prince.. The first love is the hardest to shake.. It seems like everything on the earth reminds you of them, the bright blue sky, like their eyes, the rain like their tears...Even this old tea kettle, like her hair." Michiru nodded letting Monsieur lick the cream frosting from her tea cake off her finger. She was less curious and more reflective now, laden with Lady's memoirs. How could she ever forget this day? It was so tragic and beautiful at once. Suddenly she had such a deep respect and love for Lady Anigusta, she wanted to reach over and take her hand, prove to her how strong she was, even if her heart belonged to only one other all her life. Somewhere out there she did believe, Michael and women like her, their spirits are out there. They never really die.

"My only hope for you, dear Michiru, is that your love will be forever.." Michiru looked up blushing. "Music is a universal language my youngling. I could hear it last night in your playing. You remind me so much of myself when I was your age." Michiru nodded and smiled a bit, touched she shared so much, but she knew she had a lot of thinking to do tonight, before it would all be sorted out in her mind.

The grandfather clock on the wall chimed quarter till one. Michiru looked up startled.

"Isn't that the damnedest thing! That silly antique chimes fifteen minutes till the hour. I never had the heart to fix it!"
"Oh, I didn't realise how late it was, I have to be at work in ten minutes!" Michiru stood up pushing in her chair.
"Please excuse me Lady Anigusta, I apologise!"

"Not at all, not at all. I didn't look at the time myself. I guess it's been too long since I had a visitor, other then his fine gentleman here. I lost track. Go ahead and take some cake home with you, I can't eat it all." Michiru quickly wrapped up a few pieces and went to the door. "It's been so nice visiting with you, I'd like to repay the favor sometime."

"Oh no dear, those stairs are too troublesome for me! But please, if you happen to run into my old pupil, please tell her I'm thinking of her and I hope she makes the right choice!"

"Sure, I will!"

"Her name is Tenou Haruka." The older woman shouted as Michiru peeked through the door at her.

"Got it, won't forget! Have a good day!" And closed the door dashing down the steps and tossing off her gown in a blue blur of ruffles.

Lady Anigusta reached out and scratched under Monsieur's chin knowingly. "Certainly not."

She chuckled to herself, pouring the only man she ever loved a saucer of cream.