SM: Awakening, chapter 4 - Chesed

[aegistheia]

Title: Awakening
Relationship(s): Haruka/Michiru, Mamoru/Usagi
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General, Adventure, Drama
Word Count: ~4800
Warnings: Spoilers up to the end of the Sailor Moon S (1994) anime arc. Epileptic tree equivalents of magical theories. Cheerfully irreverent mashups and blatant speculations of manga and anime.
Also Archived On: Livejournal; Archive of Our Own.
Summary: This is how the war ends: with a bang, with a whimper, with a beginning. Only, neither Haruka nor Michiru are prepared for what the aftermath of the end entails, because their solitary war doesn’t ever stop. Doesn’t it?
A.N.: So I was hoping to finish editing and posting this entire story before Sailor Moon Crystal's first episode aired. My success in that particular endeavour is evident...

Chesed

If there is anything I will never tire of, it is watching Michiru surface. She rises like poetry, like absolution, like the end of the world and the beginning of the universe. It is a transcendent experience, every time.

“The winds have blown me an intent observer today,” Michiru remarks, water rippling about her shoulders as she drifts close to circle my ankle with a delicate grip. I’d dragged a beach chair to the edge of the deck to better dip my toes into the pool, a whim in which I seldom indulge. The waters are Michiru’s domain, and she values her space.

“Your swim was soothing?”

“Soothing enough. I still scheduled music practice for this evening, though.”

“Of course. Would you like me to play the accompaniment?”

“Unnecessary. Perhaps when I improve my grasp of the composition, and you yours.” She flashes me a smile and a kiss on my calf to presumably smooth out the brusque answer. “How was the tune-up?”

“As costly as always. Kameda-san charges well for his services.”

Her smile widens. “In other words, worth every yen he discounts for your support. And the track?”

“Edging too close to my reserves on the penultimate lap. I’ll need to rework my energy allotment tomorrow, maybe adjust my pacing. I still start sprinting too quickly.”

She hums nonchalantly against my leg. Warmth curls low in my belly, hungry. Michiru flicks up a glittering gaze, then presses another wet kiss at the side of my knee, and murmurs, “we may be welcoming guests later today.”

Unrepentant tease. “Is that so? Then I suppose we should sweep and dust off the cabinets before they take in the frightful state of your abode—”

“Considering the fact that you’d let most of the mess in question happen, you have no right to throw aspersions—”

“Aspersions! Is that what you call truths now? I’ll be buying you a proper dictionary and thesaurus set before our trip is done.”

She laughs, ascending from the pool in a glory of grace. “No reference book is going to save you from an hour or two of honest housework.”

“You or me both,” I grumble, but there’s no escaping it. “Would it be more efficient if we cooked lunch or ordered in?”

-----

True to her words, the doorbell rings mid-afternoon. Michiru is moving before the first note has finished its run. “Usagi.” She sounds vaguely pleased. “And Makoto. And Luna-san! Good afternoon. Come in, please.”

The chorused greeting is nearly washed out by my dropping the dishes back into the sink. “We have pretty visitors? Shall I bring tea?”

“Milk would go better with the cakes they’d brought,” Michiru calls back.

“Our pretty visitors brought cakes?” Good thing we stocked up our refrigerator yesterday, then. The hand-painted rose teacups would suit the occasion nicely. I carry the tray out with a rueful smile. “That’s a formality I didn’t expect. Luna-san, it’s an honour to finally be acquainted with you in person.”

The black cat nods regally in response to my bow. “Haruka-san, a pleasure.” She accepts the plate of milk with an elegant poise that reminds me of Michiru’s violin, exquisite grace carved into its lines like a prayer offered by the devout. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Usagi and Makoto exchange a blushing glance.

Then Usagi turns towards me. “Mako-chan made the cakes this morning,” she bubbles. She hasn’t changed at all. “She’s an excellent cook!”

“Oh?” I smile at Makoto, who blushes even more brightly. “Such painstaking talents are beyond Michiru and I, unfortunately. We greatly admire those who have any skill with food.”

“It’s really nothing,” she says, hands waving frantically as the red on her cheeks intensify. “Here— please, have a taste. It’s chestnut angel cake and fresh strawberry tart.”

“Won’t you have some too?” Michiru proffers two plates, but Usagi shakes her head despite looking like she’d like to consume the entire box.

“This is for you.”

“There’s no need,” Luna confides in a stage whisper, “Usagi ate an entire cake before we came.” Usagi pouts at her in embarrassed affront.

“We don’t mind,” Michiru assures.

“You will when you eat it,” Usagi promises.

I have to smirk. “Well, then, how am I supposed to resist after such a ringing endorsement?” Makoto had done a spectacular job of decorating the pieces with buttercream and glaze. Michiru scoops a piece of chestnut cake from in front of me with a sly glance and a smile, which is just asking for me to cut into the tart on her plate in retaliation.

“Oh,” she says softly after a moment, but I miss the look on her face because I am too busy closing my eyes and savouring my own bite.

Summer is lighting up in my mouth, a playful mix of sweet and sour coupled with the delicate airiness of fresh-whipped cream and the buttery sheets of perfectly controlled flaking pastry. “If this is really nothing for you, Mako-chan, then you have a bright future as a baker should you pursue that career path.”

When I look up again, both Makoto and Usagi are crimson and avidly watching me. Luna looks equally admiring and sardonic. Michiru isn’t even trying to hide a smile behind her hand.

“What?” I glance at Michiru, startled.

“You are very appealing when... enjoying your food like that,” Michiru replies, laughter underwritten in her words. The girls burn redder, and remarkably, so does Luna.

I can’t stop a flush of my own. “It’s just a compliment well-deserved.”

“Then you’ll like the cake even more.” Michiru nudges the plate with her fork and gestures demonstratively – relatively speaking – towards the dessert in question. It’s worth it, her smile says, or maybe, I’ll make it worth your while.

You’d better.

She replies by lifting a forkful of strawberry tart about the same size as my bite of cake, a silent challenge tilting the corners of her lips. Fine. Fine—

The creamy chestnut layer spreads across my tongue in an explosion of luscious flavour. I have to close my eyes again to relish the smoky curls of the chestnuts, expertly roasted to maturity, and the way it blends into the delectable richness of full cream. It’s all I can do to hold back a moan; the sigh is all but involuntary.

Michiru doesn’t bother hiding her laugh this time. A flash of memory: that very same laugh wreathing about us as we fall, Michiru’s form striking in the cold lunar glow, landing blows with the deft precision of a neurosurgeon, absorbing and disregarding attacks like a cataract, as the ever-free attempts to pin down that which cannot be pressured—

I scowl at her, just knowing that my blush is something to behold. Even the sternest of thespian teachers would have approved of the mildness in Michiru’s expression, were it not for the minute twitching at the corner of her lips and the darkening of her eyes—

I look away before the heat in my cheeks can set my face afire. Usagi and Makoto are staring at us in rapt fascination, faces fit to stop traffic. Luna appears to have laid down out of sheer exasperation “Well. Have you ladies enjoyed yourselves now that your exams are over?”

“Y-yes! Yes, we have!”

“We heard about your win on the circuit last week, Haruka-san. Congratulations!”

“It must be difficult, having so much media trained on you,” Luna muses.

“Difficult?” Usagi exclaims. “But that’s every girl’s dream! To have so much love and attention given to you!”

Michiru laughs. “It’s not so bad. The media is very used to our frequent working holidays.”

“And our publicity directors are marvels with gating the press. But come! Tell us about yourselves. Such lovely girls as you must have very busy social calendars.”

Inexplicably, Usagi flushes, glancing at her companion. Makoto is wearing a strange, faint smile. “You’ll have to forgive us for being a little overwhelmed. This is the first time you’ve asked us an open-ended question that wasn’t rhetorical or battle-related since we found out about each other’s powers. We’ve missed being your friends.”

“Would you like another open-ended question?” Michiru says without missing a beat. “How did you know we would be in?”

Usagi ducks her head. “Well, er, we asked Chibi-Usa’s Luna-P if you were home and available.”

“The little princess? She’s a resourceful one.” Has Setsuna ever mentioned such a device before?

Michiru smiles lightly. “What warrants such a premeditated visit?”

The girls colour again, but Usagi’s determination is unmistakeable. “We’ve planned a retreat at the Hakone shrine for the weekend two weeks from now. We came to invite you to join us.”

I glance at Michiru to find a mirror image of my cocked eyebrow. “I don’t mean to be impolite,” says Michiru, “but why?”

Makoto straightens surreptitiously. “Because we never really did make up after Mugen’s destruction before you left town.”

“And we’re done fighting!” Usagi stares at us with uncharacteristic challenge. After a few moments, though, it melts into a more familiar sort of pleading. “It’s just for two days, and Rei-chan says the place is gorgeous!”

“You speak as if we have already decided to decline,” Michiru observes.

“We just really want you to come,” Makoto concedes, “so we came prepared.”

“Mako-chan,” Usagi says exasperatedly, “that’s not how you tell them you don’t want them to say no.”

Makoto waves a hand at Usagi. “We’d just finished exams after all, and we need to de-stress,” she adds, eyes boring into mine with transparent will. “Rest is the first step to that, isn’t it, Haruka-san?”

My eyebrow arches of its own accord in amusement. Well played, Kino. “How fortunate it is that we’d already finished our most pressing errands, then.”

“Is that a yes?” Usagi says, practically radiating hope.

“I don’t see the harm,” Michiru says gracefully. “If you could provide further details?”

Usagi jumps to her feet with a resounding cheer, then freezes mid-leap. “Oh, no. Um! I said I’d meet Rei-chan at four! I’m really sorry—”

“Usagi!” Luna groans.

“You’d better run.” Makoto glances up, presumably at the mantle clock behind us, and shakes her head. “I’ll brief them and help with the cleanup.”

Michiru smiles as she stands. “I’ll walk you down, Usagi.”

“Thank you so much!” Usagi bounds towards the door, then pauses. “Luna?”

“Mako-chan can take me back home. I’m not interested in listening to Rei-chan yell at you over your unfinished math exercises for the next two hours.”

“They’re hard, okay? Let’s see you try finishing some of them!”

“Go,” Makoto says pointedly. With a final tongue-stuck-out gesture of disdain for Luna and a wave for Makoto and I, Usagi ducks out of sight, and footsteps later, out the door as well.

“The elevators are in the other direction,” Michiru calls, just before the front door cuts off Usagi’s sheepish giggles.

“You don’t have to help,” I tell Makoto, “you’re a guest here. All the more so, as you’ve brought us cakes to sin for.”

“I’d like to. Please.”

“All right. The kitchen’s this way. Tea?”

Every part of the apartment is exceedingly lovely, as all of Michiru’s dwellings are wont to be, furnished with proper accoutrements in every room. It’s no surprise that Makoto and Luna would spend a full minute taking in the kitchen with glazed expressions. “Wow,” Makoto finally exclaims, “this is high-quality stuff! I wouldn’t have guessed that you can’t cook!”

“Your appliances are practically in mint condition,” Luna breathes. “How do you keep them so clean?”

I throw them a wry smile over my shoulder as I turn on the tap. “We rarely cook, that’s how. Our meals are very simple.” When we have time to actually eat in the apartment, that is. “Thank you,” I add, when Makoto takes up position by my side to rinse and dry the dishes. Luna curls up on a chair, watching us with thoughtful eyes.

We work in companionable silence. When Makoto is drying the last of the forks, I fish out a notepad and pen. “Why don’t you write down the information and the preparatory work we’ll need to undertake, and I’ll put the dishes away in the meantime?”

“Rei-chan’s worked out the details of our lodgings, but we’re responsible for groceries. We’ll be scheduling shopping trips sometime within these two weeks, so speak up if you’re partial to something!”

“We aren’t picky eaters. Although you won’t need to account for me if you’re distributing portions of natto.” If they’re budgeting as regular middle-schoolers, I doubt they’ll get anything Michiru won’t touch.

“And activities? Rei-chan has official business at the shrine, but we should have some free time.”

“We are easily entertained.” Rose tea wouldn’t be remiss at this point.

It is only after I finish retrieving the tea leaves in question that I can properly identify the quality of Makoto’s silence. “Is there a problem?”

“Not a problem, precisely.” Makoto taps the pen absently. “Just... a curiosity. More or less.”

“Mmh. Perhaps we can trade a curiosity for curiosity?” It would be a waste of energy, at this point, to deny that the girls have piqued my interest yet again.

She gives me a quick look from beneath her eyelashes, then straightens like she is bracing herself. “Why not. You first, Haruka-san.”

“Oh, no, you are my guest—”

“Please. I insist.”

I blink at the kettle, fighting a frown. “All right, then.” I turn to give them the most even look I can manage. “How badly injured is Tsukino Usagi?”

“Injured—?” Luna exclaims, fur leaping upright in a quick swathe down her back.

Makoto stares at me, then at Luna, in honest bewilderment and growing alarm. “She’s hurt?! Luna, do you know anything about this?”

“Nothing that I could see. Do you—?”

“Not as far as I’m aware of. Usagi was just fine whenever she was with us. Haruka-san, what do you mean, how badly is Usagi hurt? I—”

“Calm down. Please.” Now that’s even more confusing. “So she’s not hurt.”

“She wouldn’t hide it from us if she were, unless— Haruka-san, please. You know what, hold on, my communicator—”

“Whoa! No, wait, you misunderstand. I’m inquiring after the Princess’s health, not informing you about it! I’d only thought that she might not be in top form, if she’s not fighting with you. If you say that she isn’t hurt, then I would believe you. I didn’t think—...”

Both Makoto and Luna had collapsed into identical heaps of undisguised relief. “You scared me, Haruka-san!” Makoto gasps. “Why would you say that?”

“I didn’t intend to do so. I apologize for my presumptions.” Unaccountable irritation wars with nonplus; it is easily hidden when I hand her the tea. If the Princess is unharmed, and fully recovered... “Allow me to rephrase my question, then. What inspired you to fight with a handicap?”

“It was my idea, to try fighting without a full team.” Makoto broods into her cup. “Sometime earlier in the fight against the Death Busters, I’d taken a quick trip to isolate myself and train alone. And I was able to become stronger, in the end, but I didn’t achieve that just by myself. They came to back me up, and their support, as much as my own hard work, gave me strength. They taught me about how to fight my own battle as part of a team.

“The corollary, though, is that the team is always there in the thick of trouble. And I kept thinking, can’t we improve on this? You and Michiru-san, you use the minimum amount of energy needed to achieve your goals in fights. Can’t we manage a middle ground where we can reserve ourselves too, and make ourselves more effective this way, if things do get worse?”

How reckless. Still, it’s not as bad as it could have been; they seemed to have tried to accounted for failures, and mapped out each other’s locations. “And how would you have dealt with a situation that developed beyond your control?”

“We call in the rest of the team.”

This session is going nowhere; Kino Makoto is surprisingly opaque. A new angle, then. “So you decided to cripple yourselves by excluding your strongest fighter? I can’t imagine your Princess will be very happy when she learns of your close call.” In the park, if Sailor Mercury had been alone, if Sailor Jupiter had been even thirty seconds later...

She bristles, then sighs. “She knows, now. We weren’t all that comfortable hiding it from any of us in the first place, much less her, but we all agreed to do it at least once. To be on the ignorant part. Ami has the schedule worked out, but the rest of us don’t know who it will be next.”

She grins, wry. “We had to try, you know? It’s one thing to have the entire team present but not involved, and another to not have the entire team there at all. It’s more final, you know? You have no choice but to fight alone. I wanted to see if there was a difference.”

“And did you find one?”

“I’m not sure. I think so.”

“I see. I suggest preparing more backups next time, to limit the possibility of collateral. You don’t have the power—” or the preparation “—to lower such risk to an acceptable level.”

She glances at Luna, then looks at me steadily for long moment. “You think we’re soft,” she finally says.

“With all due respect,” I reply with the same steadiness, “yes. You are soft.”

Makoto scowls. “With all due respect, Haruka-san, you’re patronizing.”

“So you would rather suffer injuries? Can you afford to make that kind of decision for the Princess?”

“I would rather you respect us!” She shoves up and stalks away, then whirls around and stalks back, temper almost sparking in the restless viridian of her eyes. “We’re not children, Haruka-san, and we’re not civilians! We have our own goals and our own desires and our own battles to fight. We don’t need you to protect us from that.”

“You don’t know yet what we would all need to—”

“So now you think you know what we need, too?” she snaps, then takes a breath through gritted teeth. The way she moves when she sits back down screams of suppressed violence. “Look. I know you mean well. I know you do. But we’re also Sailor Soldiers, guarding the same Solar System. We too know how to fight.”

Counting to twenty backwards in English during her little speech hadn’t helped, so I take the liberty to count forward to thirty in multiples of three before I attempt to answer. “Now? Perhaps, a little. At the start? You had no idea what you were up against.” No good. I’m still growling. Too bad. “We are at war, Kino. Why would we waste time sealing your movements? The only time we ever interfered was when you were going to injure yourselves in battles beyond your level.”

“Pardon my language, Haruka-san,” Makoto says, very clearly, “but that’s bullshit.”

My eyes narrow.

“If you wanted us unhurt, you would have pushed us away the moment we showed up, or, hell, even tried to communicate with us. But you only ever interfered when it seems like the Death Busters were about to win the Heart Crystals!”

“She has you there,” Michiru chuckles. I glare at her too. Makoto is still barely recovering from her shock, clearly caught off guard by her silent re-entry into the apartment. Luna is much more subtle; two lashes of her tail and she’s still again, a waiting pool.

Michiru walks in to lean against the stove, unperturbed by the tension in the air. “But Haruka has the right of it, too. We didn’t take away any of your choices or ability to act.”

“Michiru-san,” Luna says quietly, “with all due respect, if you see somebody as an obstacle to your goals, you’d infringe upon some of their ranges of motion and choices to make them no longer obstacles.”

“Yes. But you were an obstacle only when you were about to yield the enemy an advantage. Until you became one, we had no reason to interfere.”

“So if we weren’t precisely enemies, why couldn’t we be allies instead?” Makoto makes a noise of infinite frustration. “That’s my question. We fought together just fine in the park, didn’t we? If we worked together, surely we could have stopped the Death Busters without risking anybody’s lives!”

Michiru smiles like a knife. “If the Death Busters hadn’t found the technology to extract Heart Crystals, we would have developed it ourselves.” Makoto jerks back as though she’d been stabbed. “If we were to work together, would you have compromised your values with respect to ours?”

Silence.

“I didn’t think so.” Michiru drapes a hand on the counter with finality, oceanic eyes flat. “It’s not so simple, isn’t it.”

“Are you proud of yourselves?” Makoto whispers, when the silence stretches beyond bearing. “Of what you did? Of what you would do?”

Pride? She speaks of pride? “Are you?”

“Yes. I am.” She draws herself up, thunder in her expression. “We might doubt ourselves, and we might lose our way, but we’re not ashamed. We are soldiers of justice and love.”

Michiru’s fingertips flick up, stopping my words on my tongue. Wait.

Quite unexpectedly, Makoto sags. “And it gives us no right to judge you, too.”

Luna uncurls and winds about her arms, peering up at her with naked worry in her eyes. “Mako-chan,” she says quietly.

“But it’s true, Luna.” Makoto rubs her face and gathers Luna close. “I think... I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know if it matters to you, whether or not you’re proud.”

Strangely, that’s enough for the knot in my throat to loosen. “Yes. We are proud.”

Makoto shakes her head, much like she’d done so with Usagi. “I still don’t understand. None of us do. But,” and she grimaces, “if I haven’t antagonized you into changing your mind about attending the retreat, I hope we will understand each other a little more after our trip together.”

“It takes more than a rousing discussion to dissuade us,” Michiru says, tossing me an arch glance.

“That’s one way to put it,” Makoto snorts. “Thank you for your hospitality, and your forbearance. I think I should take my leave before I wear our welcome out entirely.”

“Oh, we could use more stimulating conversationalists in our lives than you would think. But we do have evening plans, so I’m afraid it would be best if we part for today. Shall I walk you down, as well?”

“It’s fine. But thank you for your offer. We’ll be in contact about the shopping schedule. Have a good day.”

Still, Michiru sees them to the door as I do my best to put away the tea set without breaking it. I’m so concentrated that Michiru’s embracing arms make me jerk.

“You incorrigible racer,” she says with laughing exasperation, “one day your inability to resist a challenge will land you in trouble you can’t resolve.”

“I’m a professional competitor.” Hollow words, hollow voice. When had I become so tired? “What did you expect?”

“A little more restraint, for one. She did very well with her questioning, didn’t she?”

I smile reluctantly, leaning into her warmth. “Yes, she did. I didn’t expect them to allow us home ground to lower our defences.” Though I wouldn’t have pushed my guest’s rights the same way she had. That Kino Makoto had done so with such deft confidence... “She had my mark too well. The point goes to her for this round, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh. Leaving them an unguarded exit from the kitchen was the least I could do.” She laughs, softly. “Despite their talents, they still don’t know what it means to fight a war.”

No. They don’t know what it means to consider everything a potential resource, a potential target, a potential factor in every fight. To ask us of pride, of all things... of course we’re proud. What do they think pride translates to, on a battlefield, in a war that never ends? It’s all we have left.

One of the first lessons I had learned, upon taking up the power of the galaxy’s forces, was to draw lines. I drew many, in my early days. Do not stand down against bullies and misogynists; their actions are not to be respected or ignored. Do not fail any subject in school or abandon hobbies, no matter how busy or uninterested or famous or rich I become; reliance on material wealth and excuses are unacceptable burdens. Do not neglect the body or the mind; a soldier cannot afford to allow her greatest weapons to grow dull. Do not be frivolous with favours; that’s asking for complications. Do not be cruel. Do not forego mercy, but do not confuse it with kindness, or when to extend either. Do not forget the text and colour and direction of any of my spun lies. Do not neglect civilian duties and habits. Do not do harm where unnecessary. And so on.

It hadn’t been so very long ago when I had set those ambitious boundaries for myself, so very long ago enough that I had forgotten how it had felt to have moved them and crossed them myself, one by bitter one, until only the last of them, the bleeding hearts of them, remain. Lines define, along with lies; they reveal the limits set and the scales skewed. It’s a simple enough codex of the soul for those with eyes to see.

I know of Michiru’s lines as well as I do of the leylines in the ocean; that is, as well as an educated guess that likely to be more accurate than pure estimation, but not with any guarantee of precision. But I know this unquestionable truth: for our mission, we would let go of everything. As the winds embrace me and the oceans grace me with their blessings, I know this much. We would let go. We would.

But until we do, they are our lines still, and they are not to be crossed. Not for anything. That is our pride.

How many lines had they stripped away themselves, these Inner System warriors? How many, to know when to cross one without hesitation, or to know when to stand firm? The battles had been growing more and more desperate. How much room for error did they realize they had lacked, that one hesitation could cost us the entire war?

I sigh. “You didn’t tell her of our interference in their battles.”

“Of your interference, you mean. I have never moved first to help them reverse the tide where the Heart Crystals weren’t concerned.” She hooks her chin over my shoulder. “Should I have told her that you were telling the truth, too?”

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t do it for their acknowledgement, or their thanks.”

“I didn’t think so. She admires you, you know. Kino Makoto.”

A laugh bubbles from my belly, inexplicably resigned. “Is it that obvious?”

“About as obvious as Mizuno Ami is to your eyes. At some point that girl had probably idolized you, too. You do inspire that in people.”

“Do I.”

“It’s not your fault,” Michiru says softly. “All gods fall. She will grow from the pain of realizing that.”

“As did we all.”

“As did we all.” Never has the apartment felt more alien, even with Michiru grounding me. I could shiver out of my own skin, even with all that we have now...

“Well,” Michiru sighs at length, “if we are to attend their weekend function, then I think I shall wish for your accompaniment this evening on the piano after all, and for the next few practices as well. We don’t have much time.”

Right. Focus. “We’ll have to move some appointments if we’re to spend more time at the pool and in the studio.” The financial advisor, two record label representatives, three potential sponsors, an advertising agent, Kameda-san, Yomi-san, Yanagisaki-san— “Is your meeting with Katsuragi-san urgent?”

“It’s more time sensitive than the contract renegotiations with Universal Music Japan. I’ll ask Miki-san and Jou-san to reschedule. But first,” and she turns me around, mischief sparking heat in her eyes, “I did promise you something interesting for your demonstrative appreciation of the desserts, didn’t I?”

Well. At least our trip back won’t be boring.





A.N.: If Makoto had lived on her own as a minor since her parents’ death by plane crash, she would have had to first fend off Japanese child services attempting to put her in foster homes (or at the very least with a guardian), unless she’d somehow slipped through the system. I figured that either way, she wouldn’t stand for any paternalizing gestures.

The part about fallen gods is inspired by John Steinbeck’s East of Eden.

III < > V