Author: Girl Who Writes
Fandom: Sailor Moon.
Genre: Character sketch.
Spoilers: S series.
Word Count: 465
Notes: I've procrastinated about posting this forever, but finally I decided to bite the bullet; this is very much set at the very beginning of the S series, when Michiru and Haruka's romantic relationship was new. I hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Michiru didn't deal in hope – she dealt in action.
Disclaimer: Sailor Moon belongs to Naoko Takeuchi. I'm just a humble fan and make no profit from this fan based venture.
She liked to think that she was above petty jealousy; she was the mature, calm and collected Michiru Kaioh, after all. It was expected of her.
However, when it came to Haruka, she didn't feel mature, calm or collected. She felt all the emotions she tried so hard to conceal, bubble just under the surface. She wasn't just Haruka's lover – which, alone, implied so many things – but her best friend, her partner in crime, her confidante and, as Haruka had once joked, her parole officer.
It was easy to know that Haruka wouldn't leave her and she knew that she could never walk away from the charismatic racer, but to watch Haruka with other girls – the easy and mischievous grin, that look in Haruka's eyes; Michiru herself had fallen victim to Haruka Tenoh long before Haruka looked her way, and she was lucky that Haruka appeared to have fallen equally as hard. But that made it hurt just that little bit more when Haruka's eyes wandered a little too far.
Michiru would be the first to admit she loved the princess; Usagi herself was kind hearted to the point of extra-ordinariness, and one look at her had Michiru convinced she would make a kind, compassionate queen – with a little maturity.
But Usagi had hurt in a thousand, tiny ways. The half smile-grin that Haruka offered the clumsy blonde – Michiru had thought that was her smile; the protective air Haruka carried whenever the girl was around. It was the first time that it occurred to Michiru that maybe, just maybe, she loved Haruka more than Haruka loved her.
Destiny had made them partners in the past, and now she was paying the price, watching Haruka unable to resist the sheer joie de vivre that was Usagi Tsukino - the odango-blonde practically sweated love and acceptance for all. Michiru felt faded and tired when faced with such hope, such acceptance and affection for everyone and everything.
Hope was for little children staring at a pile of birthday or Christmas presents. Hope was waiting for someone to solve a mystery, an illness, a crime. Michiru didn't deal in hope – she dealt in action. She had been Sailor Neptune, alone, for almost a year before she had found Haruka.
But there was a spot in her heart that was cold to the blue eyed girl; the part that saw Haruka's soft eyed glances and heard the affection in her voice. Michiru had to steel herself against that little hurt, her scoldings playful and only a little bit sad.
It helped a little, thought, when Haruka holds her tight – almost clinging – and makes her promise that she'll never leave.
Michiru never replied to Haruka's pleas with anything other than a kiss; her own petty revenge for a million tiny hurts.