Outer Senshi Series
Story: 3
"Never Forgotten"
By: Jackie Chiang <airashii@airashii.org>

----------

Updated Notes (2001)

This has been reformatted and spell-checked since it was first released.
  The content remains the same however.

I don't really like this story.  I forgot that I even wrote it.  Anyway,
 it's another Haruka and Michiru angst story: bitterness, betrayal, death,
 etc.  I wrote this during my "use Japanese words everywhere" phase, so
 you'll see Japanese thrown in randomly pretty often, even if it doesn't
 make any sense.

----------

Author's Notes: As is now characteristic of most of my serious fanfics,
 the point of view constantly changes, moving from third person to first
 person, and the time changing as well.  I've tried to make it not too 
confusing with paragraphs and lines, but it still may be...  As usual, 
most of these characters are the property of Takeuchi Naoko, Toei 
Animation, Kodansha, and everyone else associated with that sort of 
thing, being used without their permission.  I have not, to my knowledge,
 copied anyone else, and I'm not trying to make any money or anything.  
February 1997.

----------

Anticipation was in the air.  The low buzzing of the crowd: a group of 
elegantly dressed people, who wore their long hair in coiffeurs, and 
their silk suits and dresses, their sparkling jewelry draped over them,
 and their practiced smiles of beauty...

The lights dimmed in the small theater, one that had been designed 
exclusively in the hopes that music as rich as the patrons would fill 
it...  The night promised to fulfill that desire, if only for the 
extremely wealthy and
 socially acceptable...

The two musicians appeared on the stage, both elegant and graceful.  The
 crowd murmured appreciatively of his black tuxedo and her soft blue dress.
  Both smiled politely, bowing.  He took his place at the piano, while she
 prepared her violin, setting her chin against the rest.

As silence filled the theater, everyone waited impatiently for the music to
 begin.  The man started to play, his fingers flying on the keys, a mere
 second nature to him.  The other stood silently, eyes closed, poised and
 ready.  The piano beginning was soft, beginning slowly.  Then it increased
 to a rapidly paced allegro, though it remained gentle and quiet.  The
 music then slowed back down, and then altogether ceased.  He did not once
 look up, his eyes downcast, hitting every key with perfect self confidence.
  He paused, his fingers hovering slightly above the keys.

She took her cue, then with an air of unmistakable self assurance, moved
 the bow against the strings, her fingers deftly placing pressure on them,
 then releasing them, then pressing them once more.  Beginning at a steady
 pace, the violin music, like the piano, sped up with an intensity, but,
 like a flower petal billowing down to the ground, gently ended.  Silence.

The audience, somewhat disappointed that the two had not performed together,
 made ready to applaud nonetheless, for the music was really quite excellent.
..  But they hadn't finished.

Immediately the two began to play together in a lovely duet, a song with the 
 romantic feeling that had recently characterized their music together.
  Beautiful and strong, yet gentle and sad... _This_ was what the audience
 had been anticipating...  After an eternity in a heaven of music, the dream
 ended, the audience brought back to earth.  A standing ovation greeted the
 two on the stage, who smiled benignly, rather like two regal monarchs at 
their people.  Flowers were thrown on to the stage, as well as phone cards 
and addresses of male admirers of the girl...  Poor taste, in the estimation
 of the older ones in the audience, but not uncalled for...  They left the
 stage, together.


"It was good," he stated, taking out a cigarette, lighting it, inhaling the
 ghastly smoke, then letting it out, sighing.  He tapped some ashes from
 it into a tray.

"But not good enough," she retorted sarcastically.  She moved away from him,
 hating his presence.

"No, not good enough," he agreed, his voice mellow, not really caring about
 her uncalled for fit.

She glared, turning around, not facing him.  Staring into the mirror, she
 detachedly wondered if that was really her she was seeing...  It couldn't
 be...  But it was.

He snorted, inhaling more of the smoke, more of the nicotine.  A filthy
 habit.  "What are you doing?  Seeing how gorgeous you are?"

"I'm not gorgeous."

"Right," he drawled sardonically.  "You know you are; stop fishing for
 compliments."

She gave him another look.  He really didn't understand.  He may have been
 right.  She _was_ very beautiful, at least on the surface.  But underneath,
 she had long ago stopped having the self confidence that she exuded 
outwardly.  She had never deluded herself, for she had always known that 
inner beauty was something better than outward beauty.  The beautiful witch,
 who shrieked and screamed and plotted and hated...  and the homely girl, 
who loved and helped and smiled with feeling.  She would rather have been 
the homely girl, not the beautiful witch...

Not that she shrieked or screamed or plotted...  But she hated.  She hated
 with a deep intensity that had never been a part of her before.  Hated
 everything...  Hated her music, hated her artwork, hated those who had
 shunned her, hated _him_, hated herself...  Hated _her_, for leaving her.
  Hated her for not having enough trust, not enough faith, not enough love...

"Stop thinking," he snapped.  "Pretty girls shouldn't think; it ruins their
 temperament."  He always knew how to insult her.

"And handsome men..." She said back, then paused.  "Oh wait, I suppose that
 really doesn't apply in your case, does it?"

He glared, then started coughing.  "I don't need this crap," he sneered.  
"I've been putting up with you for the last year...  But I don't need you.
  There are others, girls with more musical ability in their _toes_ than
 you'll ever have!"

She didn't look at him.  "Fine, go.  I don't care..." I stopped caring a
 long time ago...

Gaping, for he had thought that she would have never let him go, he drew 
himself together, standing up.  "Fine, don't expect me to forgive you when 
you come crawling back.  I'm the best damn partner you've ever had, and you
 won't find another musician in all of New York as good as I am!"

Slamming the door behind him, he left her alone in the smoke laden room.
  She went to open the window, letting fresh air in.  Outside, below, she 
could see people in the streets, talking about the previous concert.

My, weren't they wonderful? and Yes, they must really love each other to
 produce music like that and I can't wait for their next performance.

She leaned against the sill, listening.  Something in her throat tickled,
 and she found that she was laughing.  Not the pure, wondrous type that 
finds everything wonderful with the world...  Rather, the demeaning type,
 that laughed at naivet, laughed at ignorance, laughed at secretiveness.
  Oh, wouldn't they like to know the truth...

How she had never loved him...  How she was never going to perform with him
 again.  How much she hated them, the stuck up, arrogant type, always
 condemning, always thinking that they were so much better than everyone
 else...

It began to snow, suddenly, out of nowhere...  Yet it didn't surprise her...
  It was more as if it _had_ to snow...  Watching the flakes float to earth,
 touching and sticking, she remembered how she had always loved the snow back
 home...  When snow clung to the ground, covering everything, there was 
something magical about it all...  A purity that nothing else could achieve.
  And she remembered how angry she always grew when the purity of the clean,
 level snow was tainted by foot marks, by dirt, by mud...  Something inside 
 of her made memories of home flood over her, and she knew what she wanted
 to do.

She went to the phone, her hand poised over it, thinking, debating.  Then
 realizing that this was how he always was, she picked it up, her fingers
 dialing a number that she had looked up on several occasions, always 
hoping, never doing.

A bored Queens accent.  "Yello?  What do ya want?"

"I'd like to buy a ticket for the next flight to Tokyo, Japan."

"Round-trip or one-way?"

"One-way, please," she said.  Hanging up the phone when that was done, she
 went into the next room, where she proceeded to pack clothes and items
 into suitcases.

One-way...  I'm never coming back here again... I'm going home.


"It's nice," she murmured, glancing around.  It was a large apartment, with
 open picture windows, a balcony, and very spacious.  But so bare...

"Are you interested in it, er, oh dear," the agent said, forgetting her name.

"Kaioh Michiru," the girl replied gently.  "Hai, I'd like to rent it."

The agent's eyes widened slightly.  She thought for a moment.  "Kaioh 
Michiru, Kaioh Michiru...  I've heard that name."

Michiru smiled painfully, hoping that she wouldn't remember.

The agent shrugged, then looked at the sheet.  "It's 900,000 yen per 
month, dear."

"It's all right, money is no object," Michiru answered.  "I'll take it."



For the longest time, everything was perfect.  Absolutely perfect.  It was
 as if I were in a lovely dream, a dream that I never wanted to awaken from.
  Not that I ever thought about it like that...  Only in retrospect can I
 analyze on what happened to me, like a visitor from the future, destined
 only to watch, never to warn the one being visited.

I was not always so cynical.  Really, I wasn't.  There was nothing to be
 cynical about.  Of course, I would not go as far as to say that I was
 innocently naive.  But I didn't view the world with the bitterness, the
 emptiness that I have now inside of me...

But no one would care...  No one would listen to me.  That's the way things
 are; people live in a world where they prefer to keep everything simplified.
  Problems complicate things.  Complications mean discomfort.  Discomfort
 mars the perfect sphere of contentment that many have...

But, as I said, I wasn't always like this...  And I hope, one day, that I
 can become who I used to be...  That, with the naive hope that I so regard
 with contempt, that maybe someday...  Something will make everything all
 right again...  That I won't continue to torture myself from day to day,
 about what could have been, what should have been, what really was...



She cleaned the whole apartment from top to bottom.  Though nice, it had
 been extremely dirty.  She could have hired a maid...  But she really 
didn't think anyone would do the job for her...  And she really didn't want
 the responsibility of hiring someone...  Besides, physical labor was 
comforting.

Wiping her brow, she looked around.  It was clean, at least...  But still
 so empty...  Like how she felt inside...  The only furniture were a bed
 and a dresser in her room, a single mirror placed on the wall there, a
 small table and chair in the kitchen, and a few kitchen items that she
 needed.  She really didn't need all those things to clutter her apartment.
  She could have easily bought as many things as she desired to fill it; she
 simply chose not to.  It wasn't as if there was any meaning in unnecessary
 items...

Her violin case remained underneath her bed, unopened.  She refused to even 
 look at it.  Her painting tools were stored in a closet, untouched...

She would stare for hours outside the window, sitting on the sill, watching
 Tokyo live.  She was content as people bustled about, working, moving,
 playing, _living_.  Something she never did anymore...



I'll eventually have to confront it, no matter what.  Avoidance is never a 
solution...  It only puts off the problem...  And it's something I have to
 do, no matter how hard I try to deny it...

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

She looked up at me, smiling.  It was a very endearing smile, one that she
 only smiled for me.  Reaching her hand up, she very softly brushed my cheek.
  I closed my eyes, leaning my face against its warmth for a moment.

Presently we heard someone calling us, and we looked at each.  Shrugging
 sheepishly, she sat up, her head leaving my lap.  She stood, brushing off
 grass from her pants.  She extended her hand towards me, and I reached for
 it, letting myself be pulled up.  We just stood there, holding each other.

Then a young girl with blackish purple hair came barreling down the path
 towards the tree where we stood.  Giggling, she threw herself into Haruka's
 arms, yelling, "Haruka-papa! Michiru-mama!"

"Hotaru-chan," Haruka smiled.  "Nani?"

"Setsuna-mama said to tell you that Michiru-mama had a visitor," she said
 cheerfully.

"A visitor?" I asked.  I bent down, looking at her.  "Who was it?"

"I dunno, Michiru-mama," Hotaru said, letting go of Haruka and tugging on
 my arm.  "But Setsuna-mama said that the person said that you were friends
 before."

Haruka glanced at me with an odd expression on her face.  It was apparent 
that she was minorly shocked thinking about me being friends with someone...
  Before we had met.  We had known each other for a millennium, yet scarcely
 knew each other's pasts...

I smiled uneasily, forcing off the feelings of dread that I felt for some
 reason.  "Ara, then let's go meet this person," I told Hotaru.

She grinned, nodding, scampering away, pulling me with her.  Haruka
 followed at a somewhat slower pace, still absorbing what Hotaru had just
 said.

I saw her wearing an peculiar look on her face from the corner of my eye,
 but Hotaru's perky jumps dragged my attention back to the path.  Haruka and
 I had been in a secluded area, behind the house where we lived with Hotaru
 and Setsuna.  It was really quite peaceful and lovely there, and we spent
 hours sitting there, talking or just lying peacefully, watching the sky or
 simply thinking.  We did that often, Haruka and I.  I often felt guilty,
 leaving Setsuna to watch Hotaru by herself, but Setsuna understood, assuring
 us that our daughter was no problem at all.

Which she wasn't.  While mischievous and energetic, she was a happy, carefree
 little girl, with no intent on causing any mishaps at all.  She exhausted
 everyone else with her never-ending energy, probably from the cookies that
 Haruka shamelessly spoiled her with, but she was a well behaved child.  
Besides that, she never once expressed any anger or resentment at Haruka and
 myself being alone.  She was a remarkably gifted, perceptive girl, who 
always knew that we loved her, no matter what.  So we never had any difficulties
 with jealousy over the lack of attention for her; just in case, we all made
 up for it anyway, Haruka playing games with her, Setsuna expanding her 
interest in everything in the world, and myself, developing her natural 
artistic talents and reading books with her.

I always understood Setsuna... yet never did, all the same.  I'm not certain
 that anyone really knew her.  Secretive, yet openly honest, gentle, but
 with an underlying streak, happy though with a confusing feeling of pain.
  She knew everybody, on the other hand, always knew what someone was
 feeling, what a person was trying not to say, what they were thinking.  
She was always like that...

Haruka, I always knew.  Arrogant, strong willed, cold...  With us, she was
 hardly like that.  Yes, she was always arrogant and strong willed, but 
Hotaru knew how to twist her around her little finger.  Young girls always 
know how to do that to their father figures, which Haruka was...  A born 
gift, if you will.  I could make Haruka do what I wanted too, but it's not
 as coldly calculating as it sounds.  For instance, we could be on our way
 to an important dinner, running five minutes late, and I could say that I
 forgot to put on make-up.  Haruka would automatically drive to a cosmetic
 shop, where I could buy something to put on...  I knew her better than she
 knew herself...  Or so I thought I did, up to that day.  And I know that 
she felt the same, until the minute she realized that she knew nothing about
 my past...

It was ironic, really.  We'd been through so much together...  We'd been so
 close...  And like the sun setting at the end of a long, glorious day, so
 it was the same for us...  A curtain drawn, shutting out the light, the
 beautiful warmth...  What was about to happen would separate us forever, to
 this very day, where I am reminiscing about the past...

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

She shook herself with a start, realizing it was now dark outside.  Lights
 shone in the streets and buildings of Tokyo, the city coming to life in the
 night.  The night...  Where she dwelled, now a creature belonging to its
 darkness, when she had once been a child of the light and the sun and the
 water...

A painful smile twisted her lips.  This was when she could forget her 
troubles, drowning herself in the sights and excitement of the city, at
 night...  Profoundly afraid of being discovered in daylight, she had 
restricted herself to the freedom of the black sky, sprinkled with bright
 stars.  If you could call that freedom...

She stood up from the sill, moving into the bedroom.  She undressed quickly,
 changing from the casual work clothes into a more sophisticated blue dress.
  But not too sophisticated.  She preferred not to draw attention to herself.
  It had been years since she had left, of course, but one never knew exactly
 _who_ remembered what...

She held her hand mirror in front of her face, examining herself.  Perfect,
 unflawed skin, pale, but too much so.  Blue eyes, though bright, had lost
 the charming sparkle that she possessed when she was younger.  Her hair, 
which she kept down past her shoulders, was soft, silky, seeming to flow like
 a stream.  How she despised how she looked.  Haruka had always said that
 she was very beautiful, and Michiru had believed her, fully.  For she knew
 that Haruka was not only speaking about her outward appearance, but how
 she thought of Michiru on the inside...  And that's what had mattered to her.

Make up?  She thought distastefully on it...  This, too, was ironic...  When
 she was younger [only 3 years ago was it?], make up had been a hobby of hers,
 collecting cosmetics.  One of pride on her elegant style and fashion, for
 she was assured that she was a good person, so why not concentrate on making
 her appearance pretty as well?  It was a fun hobby, one where she could
 minorly indulge herself after pouring her heart into the violin, into her
 painting, into her family...

She didn't need it, she thought.  Why try to make myself something that I'm
 not?  I'll only hate myself more...  She set the mirror down, ignoring the
 fact that it seemed to cry out to her to not leave it.  It was a very
 special mirror, one that showed the truth, the virtue, the purity of things.
  She had only taken it as an after thought, having left behind an oddly
 shaped stick and a watch on which was engraved a symbol...  Only the mirror
 had come, for it had compelled her to take it with her...

Her hand strayed to its handle.  Picking it up, she stared at it with eyes
 fastened to its glassy crystal surface.  At once, energy surged forward, to
 bring the image of something that flashed away in a second.  She dropped it,
 and it fell to the ground with a clatter, shattering.

She was frozen to the spot, oblivious to the mirror's scream of pain at the
 moment it had hit the floor.  She trembled, wrapping her arms around herself,
 thinking frantically.  No...  Haruka _wasn't_ here...  It was impossible.
  And Setsuna and Hotaru had left...  It had always been their dream to 
travel the world...  And why keep roots in a place where things will not
 grow?

The mirror glowed, beginning to repair itself, slowly, very slowly.  The 
pieces of glass lifted into the air, shimmering, attaching themselves to 
each other, much like a puzzle, until it finally resealed itself into the 
mirror base.  It sighed, contented once more.

Forget it, Michiru, it didn't mean anything, she tried convincing herself.
  Just a bad memory, that's all the mirror showed...  But she was not 
certain at all...

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

We sat in silence, together, in the living room.  Hotaru was shifting
 uncomfortably in her seat, and Setsuna coughed politely.  Haruka was glaring
 aggressively at him, but he didn't notice, or at least he didn't show that
 he noticed.  I was feeling extremely nervous, for no exact reason.

"So, Toge-san," Haruka said, her voice sharp, "you were Michiru's boy
 friend?"

I flushed, hearing the underlying, malicious meaning to her question.  She
 hadn't said 'boyfriend', but that's what I knew she was asking.

"Hai," Toge said, ignoring the double loaded question.  "We were very good
 friends when we were younger."

Haruka gave no response, staring at him with an intense loathing.

I didn't see why she was doing this.  Desperately, I looked at Setsuna for
 some help, but she avoided my gaze.  She knew that the tension was thick,
 knew that she should stay out of it, knew what I was feeling.  A burst of
 resentment flared up inside of me, but I quickly extinguished it.  It would
 do the situation no good if I became angry with Setsuna for not interfering
 in something she had no control over.

It wasn't as if I wouldn't have had any male friends before meeting Haruka.
  Yet Toge was no ordinary friend...

We had been very close, our families knowing each other and frequently 
entertaining our private social group.  Left alone by the adults, we 
naturally became friends, companions, in order to retain that bit of 
clarity that was prone to be lost amidst a young 8-year-old's confusion.

As we grew older, we both changed, drifted apart, yet always still 
understanding each other.  I thought of him as my brother, as he treated
 me like a sister.  But Haruka couldn't possibly have known that.

All she saw was a very handsome man of 18, well dressed, short black hair
 neatly trimmed, serious, calm blue eyes.  All she knew was that he was
 very wealthy, gifted at the piano, and, in her mind, a rival to contend
 with.

Why couldn't she see that we were only friends?  Why this sudden possessive
 jealousy?  Didn't she know that she was the only one who I could ever love
 like that?

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

Unknown to me at that time, I myself was blinded...  I viewed Toge as the
 brotherly figure that I had always admired.  I never saw, or refused to let
 myself see, that he clearly was enjoying the challenge in Haruka's eyes,
 enjoying it and accepting it...

Why would Haruka do this to us?  Why would Hotaru and Setsuna simply stand 
back and watch our relationship fall apart before their eyes?  Why didn't 
she have enough faith?  These are the questions I always ask myself, every 
night, never forgotten...

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

"I don't like him," Haruka snapped angrily to me.  We were outside, taking
 a walk together behind the house.

"Why not?  He's a very nice person, once you know him," I said gently.

Toge was staying with us, being my old friend.  He eventually explained how
 he had discovered my whereabouts, after I had... moved away from home.  He
 found out that I was famous, and, after some serious searching, came to
 find that I was living here, with the other three.

"I'm sure he is," she said frigidly, "but only to you."

I tried laughing it off.  "Ara, Haruka, it's as if you were jealous."

She didn't answer, seething in anger.

I stopped her from continuing, holding on to her wrist, firmly yet softly.
  "Haruka...  Toge's only a friend, you know that."

She remained silent, and I realized that something was falling apart, 
something was off balance.  Perfection was becoming flawed...

"You really don't see," she said flatly after a moment of contemplating.

"See what?"  A brush of coldness touched my heart, looking at her.  Her
 manner was cool, very impersonal.

"He's in love with you," Haruka said, looking away from me towards the wood
 in front of us.  "It's obvious from his face.  It explains why he came
 looking for you."

"Ara, Haruka, that's ridiculous," I said, automatically laughing.  "He's
 like a brother to me."

Haruka shrugged, her blue eyes vindictive.  I couldn't stand it.  Couldn't
 stand seeing her like this, couldn't stand hearing her accusations, 
couldn't stand being around her.  A shock went through me.  Couldn't stand
 being around her?  How could I _not_ be with her?

She was watching me with a carefully concealed expression.  Sighed.  
"Michiru, gomen," she said, moving towards me, enveloping me in a protective
 hug.  "I overreacted...  again."

I smiled wearily, resting my head on her shoulder.  "It's all right..."

"No, it's not," she retorted, holding me tighter.  "I'll try liking 
To-what's-his-name..."

"Toge," I murmured, but without much feeling behind it.  We stood quietly,
 just holding each other, not saying anything at all...

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

I couldn't understand what had happened.  Only a few weeks ago, she was 
reassuring me that she would try to like Toge...  Only a few weeks ago...
  It was all over now...  Funny how a few weeks can destroy everything 
you've hoped for, everything you've dreamt of, everything you worked so 
hard for.

She hadn't even come to say good-bye.  That was what hurt...  The fact that
 she deliberately acknowledged that I was no longer a part of her life 
anymore, that she hadn't cared enough to even _look_ at me...

I reached down, kissing Hotaru on the cheek, softly.  She was crying, though
 she tried not to show it.  What a brave little girl...  My daughter...  She
didn't understood what was going on...  Setsuna smiled waveringly, the
 first time I had seen her almost close to tears.  I hugged her and she I,
 but I could feel the beginnings of a cold withdrawal...  They were already
 removing themselves from me, whether instinctively or unintentionally, it
 didn't matter.

"Arigato," I whispered, not exactly sure what to say.  How can you say
 good-bye to your family?  How can you leave them forever?

Toge had an impassive look on his face, one I would have dearly love to have
 slapped off.  I controlled myself though, for Hotaru and Setsuna's sakes,
 if nothing else.

I'd rather not go into all the little details...  It makes me too depressed.
  But I gather you must understand, if only briefly, what happened.

Toge had brought news that he was going to America since he was going to
 give concerts there, having already established his name in Japan.  He 
wanted me to go with him, a partner in his music.

I declined, of course.  Why would I go with him, when I could stay in Tokyo,
 with my family, with my own beginnings of careers in fine arts?  He didn't
 understand, though.  After Haruka firmly reinstated my answer, that was when
 his facade of kindness disappeared.

Haruka had been right, after all...  Toge was not the same person I had
 known from my past.  Changed, cold, calculating...  In one manner or another,
 in that deviousness of his which I still cannot figure out, he somehow
 managed to manipulate himself and I into a rather uncomfortable position.
  No, not that far, not even close.  But far enough to make it seem like I
 was cheating on Haruka, which, after my defense of Toge, the refusal to
 believe what he really was like, after everything, she believed at face
 value.  And even when she came later, about to apologize, I was too angry 
to forgive her...

Should I have been more understanding, more forgiving?  Whatever would 
happen, we were supposed to be together through it all.  HOW COULD SHE DO 
THAT TO ME?!  She simply left, without a backwards glance...  I can always 
see the cold eyes, the uncaring look of utter disdain...  Since then, I've 
been dying inside, a little at a time...  Her apology hadn't helped; it had
 only worsened the situation.  Foolish not to forgive when I could have...
  For when I didn't forgive, she could not either, and neither one of us 
would admit our mistakes...

Toge and I drove away from the house.  Hotaru and Setsuna watched us, unmoving,
 farther and farther away...  I glanced towards the windows on the fourth
 floor, and I thought I saw some movement...  A brushing of a curtain...?  
And as we moved down our new path together, he gave me a mocking stare, and
 a bitter anger rose inside of me as I suddenly realized, with a dismal hope,
 that Toge meant 'thorn.'

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

She didn't move, her eyes fastened on the headstone.  After leaving the 
wonders of the city, she had come here...  It was obvious that she would
 have...  The city had begun to revive old memories, ones that would 
prefer to have stayed dead.  Even after everything that had happened, she
 would always go there, no matter what.

The flowers in her hand broke as her hand clasped them suddenly.  Wet tears fell
 from her eyes to fall on to the dirt.

"Dammit, Haruka," she whispered.  "You never let me apologize...  You never
 even let me say good-bye..."

The flowers fell to the ground as she began sobbing on her knees, leaning
 against the headstone.

Tenoh Haruka wouldn't have gone any other way...  Dying in the midst of
 danger.  Michiru had often been skeptical of Haruka's racing career, though
 she had supported her partner's decision to participate in those events.  But
 after she and Haruka had split, something had happened to Haruka...  Everyone
 knew it, though no one knew why.  She grew more dangerous, tried to become
 even faster, dared to do what none had done...  And in that way, she had died,
 in a race car accident, colliding into a wall.

Michiru had read in the newspapers that death had been instantaneous...  
Little compensation, she supposed.  What was instant death?  In order to 
know what instant death was, one had to experience death, did they not?

But this had all happened a few months after Michiru had left for America...  
She spent the next year absorbing herself in her music...  No, not her music...
  _His_ music.  Her best wasn't good enough.  He had expected her to be what
 he had dreamed- perfect, flawless, wonderful.  Which she was...  But he 
didn't see it like that...  He never did.  The really ironic thing was that
 she was better at the violin than he was at the piano...

She simply went through the motions after a time...  And she felt nothing in
 her music or her painting anymore.  Felt dead and cold inside...  But she 
had come back, back to Tokyo...  A year and several months too late...

"Haruka," Michiru whispered softly through her tears.  "I know you can't 
hear me..."  She had long ago stopped believing in God and Heaven.  "But 
please... forgive me... for I forgave you ever since that night when we 
fought...  I should have never left you to go with Toge...  It was stupid,
 and I didn't want to go..."

Silence.

"God, Haruka, why did this have to happen!" she yelled out into the 
emptiness.  "Why the hell did you have to die?!"

It began to rain in the cemetery.  It was lonely and wet and shiveringly 
cold.  There were a few lone trees and a path that twisted along the 
graves...  And there were hundreds of them everywhere, littering the flat 
land with their gray, barren markers.  She didn't notice the rain that 
soaked her hair, soaked her clothes...  She only felt a sort of cleansing...
  The purity of the rain...  She closed her eyes, feeling no more energy
 left inside of her, simply wanting to sleep.


She awoke a few days later, unaware of what had happened or where she was.
  Looking around, she noticed that she was in a well decorated room, with 
a soft bed underneath her...  And she was warm, she realized.

How did I get here?  She looked down, seeing her mirror faintly glowing.  
It flashed an image of Haruka in her hands.  She became violently angry,
 and she started to throw it do the ground.

A voice stopped her.  "Please, Michiru, don't."

A quiet voice, one of rational reason and calmness and kindness.

Michiru didn't turn, though she slowly lowered her mirror to the bed.  
"Hotaru-chan?" she whispered.

"Hai, Michiru," a girl of a quiet seriousness in her eyes, short purple 
hair said.  "I'm Hotaru."

Michiru gazed in wonder at the girl, who had matured to be about 16 in age.
  Apparently she had aged rapidly again while Michiru was gone...  She was 
still remarkably thin, her eyes hiding a great intelligence, her face still
 young.

"I thought...  That you and Setsuna..."  Michiru's voice drifted off into 
confusion.

"Setsuna-mama and I came back, after spending some time in Europe, Michiru,"
 Hotaru said.

The older one, with some minor shock and hurt, noticed the difference 
between Setsuna-mama and Michiru...

"So this is..."

"Hai, this is my home."

Not 'our' home... 'My' home.

Michiru realized that she was quite mistaken in her first assessment of
 Hotaru.  Eyes were intelligent and compassionate...  But a cold, impersonal
 type of compassion.  Kindness with a cool touch to it...  A wavering, fake
 smile...

"We went to the cemetery to visit Haruka's grave," Hotaru explained, her 
tone fast, indicating her distaste in talking anymore than absolutely 
necessary.  That cut, like a knife...  Where had the child gone who couldn't
 wait to tell Michiru-mama anything?  "We saw you there, so we took you 
home and took care of you...  You had a very high fever."

"Where is Setsuna?"

"She's downstairs, making dinner."  Hotaru gave her a hard, accusing stare.
  "...For you," she added, deliberately trying to provoke Michiru.

The older girl ignored the baiting.  "That's all right.  I'll be leaving in
 a few minutes."

Hotaru looked honestly startled, taken off guard.  "In a few minutes?  But... 
you just woke up.  You'll get sick again..."

"It was a mistake to come here," the green haired girl murmured, very gently.
She stood up, getting out of the bed.  She picked up her dress that was lying 
on the chair, cleaned and folded.  She changed quickly, though she felt 
physical pain in her body.  "I know that...  I'm sorry for making you and 
Setsuna have to take care of me...  I won't be quite so stupid as to sit in
 the rain again."

"But you can't go!" the purple haired girl cried out, half in fright, half 
in anger as she watched Michiru get ready to leave.

"Hotaru," the other said softly, "I can tell when I'm a burden...  It was 
just a big screw-up on my part to come back to Tokyo."  Her laugh was a 
bitter one.  She picked up the mirror from the bed, looking at it before 
putting it into her jacket pocket.

"You can't just get up and leave whenever you damn feel like it!" Hotaru 
shouted suddenly.  "We took _care_ of you!  You owe us!"

Funny how pain erupted inside of Michiru's body...  She ignored the feeling
 of disillusion and pain.  "So we're finally swearing, I see..." An inane
 comment.

That gave Hotaru pause.  Finally she just screamed, "You can't go again!  
You can't just leave us again like you did before!"

Michiru froze, her arm that had been reaching towards the doorknob falling to 
her side.  She felt sick, very sick in her stomach.  She said nothing, the
 other said nothing, both were silent.

Hotaru began crying...  She seemed like a little girl again, only 7 or 8...
  Back then, it was always Michiru who had reached her first, holding her,
 comforting her, whispering soothingly to her.

The impulse came, and she almost gave in to it.  You can't, Michiru...  No
 matter what you do, you can never return to the past...  She turned away,
 opening the door, leaving.  She went down the stairs, overwhelmed by
 feelings of remembrance.

She went to the front door, about to leave when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Setsuna."  She didn't even need to turn around.

"Michiru," Setsuna whispered, "don't go.  Don't run away again."

"I have to.  It wasn't right coming here again...  I disrupted your life and
 Hotaru's."

"Michiru, Hotaru _needs_ you.  You can't leave without telling her why you
 left."

Michiru looked at Setsuna for the first time, a good one.  Tall and quietly
 beautiful, she looked somehow older, different, tired.

"Didn't you tell her why?"

"No...  I couldn't tell her something that even I couldn't understand."

"You know why I left!"  Michiru's tone was accusing, angry.

"I'm not a mind reader, Michiru," Setsuna intoned softly.  "I can only
 understand things to a point...  But what you did was so... 
uncharacteristic, I was confused, I had no idea what you were doing."

From upstairs, Hotaru stood at the top of the stairs, and the other two
 looked at her.  Her face was blotchy, her hair tangled.  Michiru almost 
looked away again, but her face refused to move.

"Michiru, please don't leave," she pleaded, her eyes red.  "Michiru-mama...
  Please..."

Michiru bit back her cry of distress.  "Hotaru...  I can't stay...  Not with
 so many things that I still have to do, so many things you can't forgive me
 for..."

"I don't care...  You can't leave me again!"

"Hotaru!" Michiru snapped.  "You don't understand!"

The younger girl gave her an angry glare.  "Then why don't you try 
explaining things to me?!  Why do you try treating me like a child?  I 
_know_ what death is, I _know_ far more than you think I do!"

Michiru felt herself becoming very tired, very drained of energy.  Her
 voice was flat when she spoke.  "Very well...  If you want to know, I'll
 tell you...  But I can't say I didn't warn you."

"Setsuna-mama," Hotaru whispered, running down the stairs.  She went into
 the woman's arms, and Setsuna led them all into the living room.  Michiru
 sat at one end of the table, her face pale, her eyes oddly, suddenly vacant.
  She really felt very, very tired.  Resting her head on her hands, she was
 quiet as Setsuna and Hotaru sat down at the other end, waiting, watching.

When she spoke her voice was calm and controlled and emotionless.  "When
 Toge came, I was very happy with all of you...  I wouldn't have changed us
 as a family for anything in the world...  But after he arrived, something
 changed...  Haruka became distanced from me, in a way I still don't understand
 and I doubt I ever will.  She thought, and quite correctly so, that he was
 a threat to us, but I didn't believe her.  I thought she was just jealous 
and paranoid.  God, I should have listened to her...

"Regardless, Toge asked me to leave with him back to America, which, as 
Setsuna knows, I refused.  Then he began to change, to his manipulative,
 conniving self.  He obviously knew that Haruka and I...  were close, so
 he used that to his advantage.  During the dinner party we had, he
 managed to bring me out back..."  Her voice was emotionless.  "And he 
arranged it so that Haruka would find us there, and she would think that
 we had been flirting, to put it kindly."

Hotaru had a strange, stunned look on her face; Setsuna was calmer, but 
shocked as well.

"Anyway, Haruka was very upset, to say the least, and she and I argued about
 for the next few days...  I guess she had lost faith in me."  Laughter, one
 filled with irony.  "So I decided there wasn't anything I could do but go
 with Toge.  To stay here would have destroyed me internally...  I couldn't
 handle Haruka not loving me anymore.  And I didn't want Hotaru to grow up
 in a home where two adults hated each other...  So I left."

"But you came back," Hotaru said quickly.

"So I did..." Michiru's expression was serenely thoughtful, but mockingly
 so.  "I probably thought that coming back could fix something between us.
  Michiru no baka.  Haruka's dead, she's not coming back." Her voice fell
 to a faint whisper.  "Dead, the idiot, she _died_ the way she wanted to,
 the way only she could have gone...  Without even forgiving me, without
 letting me tell her how damn sorry I was..."

"Forgive you?"

"I left something out...  The day before I left, she was going to tell me she
 was sorry, how incredibly wrong she was...  I knew it, she knew it, we both
 did.  But for some reason, I just couldn't forgive her...  Some strange
 perversion said, "No, she didn't believe you at first, why should you let
 her get away with hurting you?"  So I didn't...  And she finally gave
 up caring.

"But in the end, I made the wrong choice, didn't I?" Michiru dug her
 nails into her palms.  "I caused the death of the only one who I'd ever 
loved that way... and I abandoned the other two, who I loved, who needed
 me..."  Her eyes were watery, but she controlled the tears, controlled her
 sobs by taking deep breaths.

"Now you know.  Now you have reason to hate me."  Control, stay in control.

"Michiru-mama," Hotaru said in a tiny voice, barely audible.  "I couldn't
 ever hate you..."

"You... you couldn't?" the answer was equally soft.

"No, never..."

"Hotaru-chan..."

Hotaru ran to Michiru and threw herself into her arms, holding her, crying,
 telling her how much she loved her, while all Michiru could do was whisper,
 stroking her hair.

Setsuna went to their sides, watching them.  When she spoke, her voice was 
soft.  "Michiru...  Please say you'll stay here.  We need you."

Michiru shook her head.  "I can't stay.  It wouldn't work.  I lost so much
 time."

"Michiru-mama, don't go, please stay with us forever, please," Hotaru kept 
murmuring inanely to herself, trying to hold onto a dream figure about to 
disappear.  "Don't leave me."

"Don't cry, Hotaru-chan, don't cry," Michiru said into her hair, holding her
 tightly.

The mirror in her pocket began to radiate warmth, and in her mind she could
 hear a distant voice.

"Michiru.  You must stay with Hotaru-chan and Setsuna.  You'll be happy here
 again..."

Haruka?!

"Please, Michiru.  They love you, as I do.  Stay..."

Haruka.

"Michiru-mama?" Hotaru's whimper intruded.

"Hotaru-chan..." Michiru whispered.  She looked up at Setsuna, who was biting
 her lip.  "Setsuna..."  Haruka...  "I'll stay for as long as you want me
 to."

"Michiru!" Setsuna said, relieved, tightly holding the girl's hand.

"Thank you, Michiru-mama," Hotaru cried, burrowing herself in the other's
 embrace again, tears rolling down her face freely.

And they were together again, a family.

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

I often go visit Haruka's grave, wondering whether or not she can see me.
  It's hard, thinking about it, still, even after all this time.  I've never
 met a single woman who touched me like she did...  And I've gotten over my
 guilt...

When I take out my mirror, I hold it with me, and it shows me pictures of
 Haruka and myself together, happy, how we used to be.  In that way, I 
finally understand what its original message was.  It wanted me to be happy,
 like I used to be, by returning to Hotaru and Setsuna.  And Haruka's voice
 from that day...  A distant apology transcending death, a final wish for 
me.

Hotaru and Setsuna told me all about her, about how when I left she became
 violently depressive, almost crazy in her lust for danger.  It was their 
way of telling me how she never forgot me, never stopped loving me.  It 
helps, knowing that.  Whenever I play my violin by myself, or paint a
 picture, I always think about her, and that also helps me, with moving
 on in my life.

I do hope that she is still watching me...  I want to show her how much I 
still care, how much I'll always love her.  In my heart, she will always be
with me, through whatever troubles I'll go through, she'll be there... never 
forgotten.
