Silk The assembly hall of an American musical university is not the most luxurious or extravagant place to host a concert and – compared to doing a gig with Three Lights back in those days – it could seem like a rather trivial experience, but as Michiru, from her position backstage, lets her gaze roam over the many rows of chairs spreading out in half-circles like ripples of water in front of the orchestral pit, she thinks that this could very well be the most important performance she's done yet. In the back of the room, half-hidden in the shadows, she can make out the camera crew and their enormous cameras, moving first to one side then to the other. It is an intimate concert – only 200 especially-invited guests having received tickets in addition to the 500 students attending the school – made into a public event in celebration of Valentine's Day and the love it represents. Love. In selection. The thought alone makes Michiru smile ironically. "And now, please welcome our next guests! The original composer of our next number "The Love of a Maiden"; world-famous violinist Miss Michiru Kaioh, accompanied by her cousin Miss Haruka Tenoh at the piano, sharing the spotlight with our very own Miss Michelle Corr who is playing the harp. Having come all the way from Tokyo, Japan..." "World-famous, eh?" Haruka whispers in her ear while the male host continues his presentation of them, one of her hands resting against the small of Michiru's back, warm and comforting through the thin fabric of her white silk dress. "Envious of my fame?" Michiru teases, reaching out to brush some invisible, non-existent dust of Haruka's tux-clad shoulder (an excuse to touch), the light grey colour of the material reminding her of her lover's eyes on early mornings, still caught in the state between being asleep and conscious of having woken up. The colour of the air when it rains. "I prefer motor sports over music," is Haruka's answer, straightening up and pulling slightly at the lapels of her jacket to show Michiru that she doesn't need help in fixing herself up, "which is probably for the best, ne?" Smiling crookedly, she tugs at a wisp of aquamarine hair that has fallen into Michiru's face, their fingertips brushing as Michiru reaches up to push it behind one ear. It wasn't until Haruka met Michiru that she began really expressing her talents on the piano. She has been playing since she was barely 5 years old, of course, but for some reason she had come to perceive the black and white keys as a war zone. Having never been told the entire story, Michiru does have a general idea of it being strongly related to a father-daughter issue, since Haruka's father had seemingly thought it would make his daughter act more like a typical girl to engage in an art as feminine as playing the piano. After Michiru re-introduced her to the concept of playing with the heart, though, Haruka has started to enjoy the possibilities of her instrument. Much to her girlfriend's delight. "That's rather humble of you, isn't it?" Michiru asks in a chitchatting voice, her smile coy. The girl standing in front of them – the harpist, Michelle Corr-san, was it? Michiru has seen her before, but is unable to place her in any context – sends them a weird look over her shoulder and Michiru senses the slight blush creeping into Haruka's cheeks only because she is so used to being around the blonde. Coughing slightly in her typical show of embarrassment (the words she was about to utter forgotten), Haruka steps back, her expensive Italian shoes not as audible and loud against the floorboards as Michiru's high-heeled sandals. It is not because Haruka feels ashamed by their relationship – as such her sexuality is no more of a problem to her than it is to Michiru – but Michiru has learned along the way that her partner is a highly private person, not much for sharing what she considers elements of her personal life with anybody outside the small circle of confidants that she has. In Haruka's mind, romantic issues are more often than not included in that category of information. Allowing Haruka a moment to collect herself, Michiru turns her attention towards the stage. "So, give them all a warm reception! Miss Kaioh, Miss Tenoh, and Miss Corr; if you ladies please?" the host laughs at the end of his opening speech, his voice echoing between the walls and making the many microphones screech faintly. They are applauded by the audience as they walk on stage together, Corr-san two steps in front of them, already heading for her beautiful, golden harp whose colour becomes her thick, orange-red hair well. Coming to a halt next to the grand piano placed in the middle of the stage, Michiru catches a glimpse of Vladimir-san and Beatrice-san leaving the podium hand in hand. Looking at Haruka out the corner of her eye, waiting for her "cousin" to settle in at the grand piano, she lets her beloved violin come to a rest on her left shoulder and twirls the bow with her fingers a couple of times to loosen the muscles in her hand. Placing the left side of her jaw on the chinrest and gripping the neck of her violin delicately, Michiru turns towards the piano and gives Haruka a small nod, signalling for her to start. She watches the tomboyish girl close her eyes, moving her fingers over the keys curiously, as if searching for the right sounds. The first time Michiru had heard Haruka play the piano, she had played it perfectly – not a single note gone wrong – but without any kind of feeling. Now she plays based on feeling alone. Flawless it's not; if one listens closely there are mistakes to pick up on, but the mood of Michiru's music has never been clearer or more pleasant to listen to. That's the charm that Haruka adds to it which makes Michiru love it so much. Hearing the first, hesitant notes fluttering in the air, she gives a similar, short nod to Michelle-san. As the student sits with the harp between her legs, the frame resting along her shoulder, her long fingers already ready to pluck the strings, Michiru realises where she's seen her before. She was the girl, the tall redhead, rushing into the assembly hall just before Michiru had her clash with Reynolds-sensei. Which reminds her of... Calling the first long tones of her own instrument's part of "Shojo no Koi" – a feeble, dancing sound – out of her violin by drawing the bow gently over the strings, Michiru searches the rows of spectators before her for the features of Luke-san; features that have edged their way into her memory. And just as expected, she locates him on the front row, two boys that can no longer be described as teenagers on his right and a thin, ghastly woman clinging to him on his left. Their gazes meet – Michiru the artist and he the judging audient – a cruel imitation of a polite smile crossing his face before disappearing again as he leans in to whisper something in the ear of the woman beside him. His wife, presumably. Taking a deep breath, Michiru lets herself and the still upset waves inside her being calmed by the melody that has appeared underneath the soft notes, the three different voices of the three very different instruments merging together into one song. One single expression of an emotion, Michiru remembers from lonesome evenings in an empty apartment in Tokyo. She closes her eyes and rides the wave of the music. Her music. The melody of her heart. Haruka's piano is sighing from a subtle, suppressed yearning, Michiru easily imagining the elegant hands – long fingers – of her lover physically forming the passion that filled 16-year-old Kaioh Michiru in the moment she began working on this composition. It was around the time when Uranus had sought her out in her dreams for the first time, confusing Michiru with her familiar eyes that never seemed to stay one permanent colour, but changed nuances varying from the light shine of fog to the dark foreboding teal of the ocean reflecting the late afternoon sky. Something about Sailor Uranus of the Silver Millennium had made Michiru think of Tenoh Haruka, but her understanding had yet to gain the swift speed of the Senshi of the Winds, heiress of her home planet. She hadn't seen the connection immediately, only followed its trail night after night. In Haruka's rapid, almost stumbling play, Michiru recognises her own unwillingness to give up on the unity with her fate that she felt while asleep and hated to have to let go of when waking up – until the day she had seen Haruka on the circuit for the first time, recognising the pace of Uranus in every of her steps; the weightlessness and precision of her movements. Feeling a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth, Michiru opens her ears to Corr-san's harp next. She has always been fascinated by the harp; its fragility and sweet, tinkling sounds that can seem almost indistinct amongst the hundreds of other overwhelming sounds of a symphony. Nonetheless, it is there with a certain sort of vigour in all its gentleness – an energy that reflects Michiru's own complexity. Feather-soft on the outside, but just as unbreakable as the most precious diamond on the inside. Yes, this is the characteristics of the being Michiru has become after she awakened as Sailor Neptune; whole at last as she was eventually reunited with her companion from the past. A destiny faithful to Princess Uranus' words about Michiru finding her again, but knowing her "by another name". Turning to face the blonde woman seated in front of the piano, Michiru drags out the last light-hearted moments of the piece, the strings of her violin vibrating and making the tones break into glass-like pieces as they soar through the room supported by the invisible wings of atomic vibrations. Relaxing her shoulders, Haruka straightens up and meets Michiru's eyes with a satisfied half-smile revealed in her bluish grey gaze. Even though she has no possibility of knowing the journey through time that their ensemble has taken the cerulean blue-eyed Ocean Senshi on, she does seem to instinctively pick up on the strong affection the experience has raised within her undercover partner, currently cousin. Michiru puts her violin down on top of the stylish, black piano. It is true that between the two of them, she is the one with the highest degree of inbred perceptiveness, but Haruka has been by her side in many situations where Michiru has allowed no one else close. Just like she has taught herself how to follow Sailor Uranus' – Haruka's – speed when running, adjusting her pace to that of her lover's, so has Haruka learned little by little to read Michiru's feelings and thoughts. There is very little that Michiru thinks she could successfully hide from Tenoh Haruka at this point in their relationship; their life – their mission. She has stopped wanting to try a long time ago. Relishing in the enthusiastic applause from the guests, Michiru bows gracefully and waits for Haruka to join her before turning her attention to the female host – a young, pretty woman with pink hair hanging in a waterfall of curls down her back – who is trying to make herself heard above the thunder of the many clapping hands. "Amazing. Simply fantastic. Miss Kaioh; Miss Tenoh. Very touching," she praises them, the way she drags them closer to the edge of the podium (into the spotlight) and provides both of them with a mike making Michiru think of Minako-chan on one of her idol trips. "Miss Kaioh, I have to ask," the female host, Lara-san, says after her male colleague who introduced them – a handsome man with a wine-red ponytail that bobs up and down as he speaks – has come to a halt next to her. Michiru gives her a refined smile, feeling the fabric of Haruka's tuxedo tickle her arm, making her fingers itch to reach out and follow the sleeve down to a slim wrist and soft skin of a well-known palm. But what is about to follow is all part of their script – and in the script Miss Michiru Kaioh complies with the fact that Miss Haruka Tenohis her cousin, not her girlfriend, so instead of acting on the urge she folds her hands carefully in front of her. "What inspired you to write such a poignant piece of music?" Before her inner eye, Michiru sees the long lines of English letters spelling out their conversation, not once leaving a hole for her to be the person she normally is when around Haruka. Not once leaving room for the truth of the love that they're here to celebrate. Her mask still firmly in place, lips parting to form her awaiting line, she meets Reynolds-sensei's cold, arrogant gaze staring up at her from his seat in the anonymous crowd. Anyone who is just a little attentive will probably be able to distinguish the artificial quality of the interview – there's no spirit to detect, no real interaction. A scam, just as he wanted it to be. Patting the bony hand of his wife, Luke-san smugly inclines his head at Michiru as a signal of his appreciation; his success. Miss Kaioh from Tokyo, Japan, is the cousin of Miss Tenoh; they are close because they have grown up together – or so does most of America think, because that is what they've been told. Hesitating in answering, Michiru feels the melody of her heart, her entire performance, wither and become nothing, veiled in this disguise that he's set up because he thinks them wrong. Unfit for the world he lives in; unworthy of being properly depicted. Inside her, the sea roars in a way Michiru is too well-mannered to let her civilian form react on. Sailor Neptune would have found her mirror and revealed the true nature of her surroundings – of herself – without hesitation, but for now the Deep Aqua Mirror is safely hidden away, and there's only Michiru's honour being challenged by Reynolds-san's green eyes. That and the soft material of Haruka's sleeve against the naked skin on her arm – offering a kind of different comfort, a touch between soul mates, not DNA-matching relatives – are the only truths she has been given to work with. About to turn back to the two hosts and deliver the long speech she is supposed to, a speech on the importance of family and the strong bonds between friends when times are rough, she catches sight of the two boys (men, rather) sitting next to Luke-san. The shortest of them, a green-haired, freckled boy, moves his hand subtly to interlace his fingers with his neighbour's. And his neighbour is... Michiru blinks twice. The dark purple hair and slightly slanted eyes... she has seen that face before. He's the boy from the picture she was shown back in Reynolds-san's office. Brad Summers, the musician who had specialised in her music; the one she had felt an automatic sympathy for because something told her he would be able to trace the story of "Shojo no Koi" back to its origin in a similar way to how Haruka does. Pausing at the way Brad-kun sends Luke-sensei a nervous glance as if fearing that he will choose this moment to look to his right, quickly drawing back his hand from the other boy's, deliberately not turning his head to meet the questioning eyes of his companion, Michiru purses her lips. It seems that they have more than music in common, Brad Summers and she. They share a love. The green-haired boy looks hurt at the way everything in Brad-kun's attitude screams "not here". Letting her gaze sweep from the two youths to the man who has apparently raised a glass wall between them with his sheer presence, Michiru can't help feeling sorry for them. Why do they let Luke-san dictate to them who to be? Nothing about them is shameful, least of all their relationship. "Michiru?" Haruka says enquiringly, interrupting her frantic thoughts with one hand finding its rest on Michiru's shoulder, calling her back to reality; the true nature of reality that Michiru doesn't need any talisman to see. Why should she let a man like Luke Reynolds tell her how to feel; who to be? Michiru is not willing to let him make her feel embarrassed and in the wrong about her relationship to Haruka. He has no idea of the strength she draws from her love; he knows nothing about Sailor Moon or how paradise is meant to be restored not with swords, but with understanding and respect. Not Ami-chan, not Rei-chan – none of the Senshi perceives themselves as Senshi of War, but Ai no Senshi. Soldiers of Love. Michiru does as well. "I'm terribly sorry," she apologises to Lara-san, smiling graciously. Michiru meets the worried eyes of first the pink-haired host and then her male counterpart for at last to catch Haruka's gaze, smile turning mischievous as her lover – not her cousin – presents her with a raised eyebrow at the way Michiru reaches up her own hand to grab hold of Haruka's, still resting on her shoulder. "I got so caught up in the story that I forgot about reality." The two hosts exchange a worried look. Nothing of what Michiru has said can be found in the script. She is stepping out of line, breaking the terms they've set beforehand, leaving them unprepared for what is to come. "So, what is the story behind the music?" the male host with his nodding ponytail – Michiru doesn't remember his name – asks, desperately trying to steer the discussion back on track. "The truth is..." Facing Haruka, Michiru feels her own eyes adopting the gentleness of the still surface of the sea. The English words hang between them, translating automatically into the humming sounds of Japanese as they pass from Michiru's lips to Haruka's ear. Haruka's face doesn't betray any surprise, her gaze not wavering from Michiru's as they look at each other in the few seconds of silence following the fatal beginning of a revelation. Onegai, Haruka, she thinks silently, the tenseness of her partner's shoulders and the way her fingers wrap around Michiru's a little more tightly giving away the uneasiness she doesn't want to show, don't make it a question of privacy. Don't let him have it his way. Don't let him win. Staring into Haruka's captivating, dark eyes, she concentrates on these broken sentences over and over again, aware that no matter what Sailor Mars might think, Michiru doesn't have any telepathic abilities, but by now Haruka knows her so well that she can read her like an open book anyway. Getting Haruka to agree is another thing entirely, though. Please, she pleads mutely without any indignity or uncertainty. In front of Haruka – as one of the few people she has bestowed that particular honour upon, if not the only one – Michiru doesn't fear showing that she can come to short on her own. Without Haruka's permission, she can't lead the final battle against the prejudice they've encountered here, because she respects the taller, tomboyish woman's integrity too much to press her modesty simply to get at Reynolds-sensei. He's not worth it. But Haruka is. An apprehension is visible in the corner of Haruka's mouth, running along the straight line of her lips. Confessions have always been her Achilles' heel, but this is no confession. What Michiru is asking of her has nothing to do with claiming colours or picking teams (announcing any kind of belonging). It's simply... love, and Michiru knows that Haruka believes in the power of love just as much as she does herself – if not more, because Usagi-chan's influence is more detectable in the short-haired Senshi of the Sky than Haruka would ever willingly admit to. "The truth is," Michiru repeats, eyes begging Haruka not to draw back, "that ‘Shojo no Koi' is a dedication to my partner." All of a sudden – the internal fight of pros and cons visible in her grey eyes having come to a conclusion – Haruka's features soften in a way Michiru is normally only entitled to experience when they are alone in the confidentiality of their bedroom, just the two of them. Every time they've told each other "as long as you're with me" run through Michiru's mind, and she knows that Haruka remembers as well. She has never told her lover about the background of her first composition, even though they have performed it together on several occasions, because this special piece was a shared secret between Princess Uranus and Michiru's heart, but maybe it's about time... Because the truth is... Haruka is Uranus by another name, and to Michiru there is no distinct border. She loves this girl in front of her in all her forms. Nothing and nobody should blemish that with stupid excuses or pointing fingers, because the melody of their love is just as vivid and beautiful as that of their prince and princess. At one point, it is that melody that will help grounding Crystal Tokyo. "Oh, you have brought your partner here tonight, Miss Kaioh?" Lara-san requests curiously, looking over one shoulder to the exit backstage as if she expects some mysterious stranger to appear and reveal himself to be Michiru's boyfriend as a pep up surprise in the middle of their show. The other host gives her a mocking look, having seemingly figured out who Michiru is referring to by the way he shakes his head. Laughing, Michiru answers: "I have." Lara-san looks excited, turning around fully as if to welcome a newcomer unto the stage. At this, Haruka rolls her eyes good-naturedly, sighing. "I choose to believe that you know what you're doing," she whispers as Michiru lets go of her hand to instead grip the lapels of her jacket, leaning up to press the re-defining kiss to lips that no one would ever think belonging to a man, no matter what clothes Haruka wears. Her dark grey eyes – streaked with dusty green in the scorching light fixed on them – flash with the intensity that Michiru fell in love with before anything else; the refusal of letting anyone pigeonhole her. Her strength is of another kind than Michiru's, they both know; yet they match. Perfectly. "Ara, don't you have faith in me?" Michiru asks playfully, still having to stand on tiptoe to reach Haruka's mouth even though her high heels level out the difference in height somewhat. Their lips are mere inches apart, Michiru's hands flattened against the soft curve of Haruka's breasts, and Haruka's fingers brushing along the line of her jaw. Around them a hush has fallen, buzzing with a mix of shock and disbelief. "Always..." says Haruka in a low voice before disregarding the last distance between them, hand cupping Michiru's face gently as their lips meet, sharing a slow inhale of the feeling of the other. "Miss Michiru, should I call for him or will he get..." Lara-san calls out, her exclamation coming to an abrupt halt as her attention – Michiru pictures – is led to Haruka and herself. "Oh..." Obviously, she – like the maid from the previous night – is not used to being faced with two kissing "cousins" either. Their kiss is neither very long nor very erotic. It's not the kind of kiss that would have made them stumble to the bedroom had they been at home by themselves. Actually, it's hardly anything but two pair of lips moving tentatively and a short, but never-ending second in which they breathe through each other; breathe in each other. Most of all, it's a statement. A point made clear. They part, Michiru stepping back and running a hand through her hair as she turns to the audience, catching the eyes of Reynolds-sensei who looks suspiciously pale and – if Michiru isn't mistaken – very shaken. The smile she awards him with is sharp and sweet at the same time, her gaze flaring with a fierce pride of having shown him her true power. Kaioh Michiru doesn't accept defeat just like that; she fights until she has obtained the closest thing to victory that she can get. Getting to his feet, Luke-san walks stiffly towards the nearest door, the slam of it as it falls closed behind him interrupting the uncomfortable silence in the room. Looking back towards the organizers seat, she only barely catches sight of the movement of bright green hair before the lone sound of clapping hands take over where the bang left off. The partner of Brad Summers has stood up, his applause slowly followed up by Brad-kun himself. Meeting his wide, dark eyes, Michiru smiles warmly at him and in that moment an unspoken understanding connects them. The original tune of love. Slowly others among the audience stand up to join into the clapping and the understanding it symbolises. Next to her, Michiru feels Haruka's fingertips caress the back of her hand soothingly as she states in a stage whisper: "Maybe we should take a bow?" With a giggle, Michiru performs the traditional Japanese curtsy, hands against her knees and her aquamarine hair falling around her shoulders in waves of ocean-scented strands. "Arigato, everybody," she says, her voice not withholding her amusement as her show of appreciation mingles with Haruka's "thank you" uttered in a huskier, deeper tone. Straightening up, Michiru – for some reason – finds it easy to imagine that Usagi-chan's face would have beamed with happiness if she'd been there... it's the feeling in the room, she realises; it's been altered... No one speaks; the applauding continuing unaffected as Michiru walks back to the piano to get her violin. Nodding respectfully to the two flabbergasted hosts as Haruka and she pass them on their way out, she interlaces her fingers with the blonde Senshi's. Side by side, they make their way down from the podium. Just like Vladimir-san and Beatrice-san did. No difference at all. The way it should be, she can't help thinking. Looking back over her shoulder, trusting Haruka to lead her steps, Michiru finally grasps what it is that has changed from she got here to this moment when she's leaving. The colour of the atmosphere is different, now glowing brightly in the exact nuance of their princess' Star Seed. A warm light; shiningly golden from a love that embraces all.
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