Notes: Episode 140, "Love Those Minis! The Fashionable Soldiers". Or, "The one with the fashion designer."

Episode 140

Despite expectations, fashion bored Michiru.

She understood it was an art form – in concept, if not in application – but could never find its heart. It was too transitory for her tastes. Today's brilliance was tomorrow's shame. Art, in Michiru's admittedly biased opinion, should speak to something timeless in the soul.

She failed to see the soul in dressing up like a human race car.

Haruka leaned to the side and whispered, "Didn't we kill that thing to get a heart crystal back?"

Michiru's giggle was lost in applause as the expressionless model pivoted and returned to the back of the stage.

It was time to go, by Michiru's estimation. They'd been here quite long enough to serve the needs of politeness. She'd seen the clothes her friend had assisted on, and the less said about their new vehicle line, the better. There were places Michiru would rather be. Places revolving around her, Haruka, and a warm Spanish summer night. Places that had absolutely nothing to do with clothing.

"Shall we?" Michiru said, already rising.

Haruka glanced at the program in her hand. "There's only one left: Yoshiki Usui. It says his clothes are 'intended to express a girl's world of dreams'." She took Michiru's hand and gently tugged her back into her seat. "We can't miss that."

This world of fashion had fascinated Haruka. Haruka, whose wardrobe was mostly mustard-coloured suits alongside broken-in jeans. She'd listened intently as Michiru's friend described working with a world-famous fashion designer, had asked lots of questions, and was enthusiastic about the answers. That Haruka was flirting was a given, but her interest was genuine.

It would fade soon enough, Michiru knew. Haruka was insatiable about new experiences, but with a few exceptions, out of sight was always out of mind. The Autobahn was in their future. What were fabrics and patterns compared to cars and speed?

Still, that was several days away. This first. Michiru smiled indulgently and settled back into her seat. Haruka would just have to make it up to her.

The hall was filled with bright, energetic music, and Usui's show began. His clothes were among the most sincere of the night, and it was clear he was trying to capture something genuine. Still, these outfits were far from Michiru's style, and as boredom returned, her eye wandered.

To where else but her favourite subject.

Haruka was dressed in a simple but flattering white tuxedo. This only served to enhance Michiru's imagination; Haruka was like a blank canvas.

With her mind, Michiru painted.

By the time she'd imagined Haruka in the third most garish design of the night, Michiru knew that this was a sketch series that had to happen. She'd tell Haruka that it would be the subject of her next exhibition. If she played it right, it could be at least a few days before Haruka figured out she wasn't serious. And here, she was wondering what she'd do for entertainment as they drove through France. Michiru hid a smile behind her hand.

All teasing thoughts were driven from her mind as she saw Haruka clench her jaw and stiffen. Had Haruka seen an enemy? Michiru hadn't sensed anything, but they'd only encountered one or two since the puppet. She was still learning how to fully interpret her feelings and premonitions since defeating the Death Busters, and her experience was low.

She followed Haruka's gaze to the models on the stage, then blinked in surprise at what she saw. "Isn't that—?"

"Sailor Moon," Haruka finished.

It was undeniable. Everything from the shoes to the skirts to the hairstyles were heavily influenced by Sailor Moon.

"My!" Michiru exclaimed. It was the best she could manage without laughing.

Haruka chuckled and shook her head. "Think there's a story behind that one?"

"Without a doubt," said Michiru. She rested a finger against her chin and studied the outfits before them. "It might be almost as interesting as why there are none for the other Senshi."

The gleam in Haruka's eye made Michiru's stomach flutter. "Think we should call and ask them?"

Michiru nodded. "Oh yes. But tomorrow." She shot Haruka a coquettish look. "I have plans for tonight."

Haruka's playful grin spread. She got to her feet, heedless of the aggravated glares of the audience around her. "I'd love to hear all about them," she said, offering Michiru her hand.

With a demure smile, Michiru accepted. This would be so much more interesting than fashion.