Chapter Text
Spring 1998
Lined up for the last time were the third years, their hearts a nervous flutter, mimicking the chatter of the leaves surrounding them. Graduation. High school was of the final remnants of adolescence that Haruka Tenoh had held on to since she was awakened as a soldier was coming to an end. And now the finish line dawned upon her, and even with a set out career of racing then coaching she felt uneasy about her future. She elected to choose an engineering degree, ok, mostly because they were the ones trialling out the new racecar designs. She cursed the alphabetical seating plan, annoyed that Michiru wasn’t next to her.
Her one small comfort came from the fact that this was the last day she’d ever have to wear this godawful skirt. No, she had not warmed to it over the last two years. Not even after it was tailored. Or after the hundred or so “lesbian awakenings” in the female students (according to the rumour mill). She’d given away all of her other uniform pieces in the week leading up to graduation.
“Kaioh Michiru”, Haruka looked up to the stage and saw the love of her life walking up to the platform, raidiant and excited. She was handed her certificate, posed for a photo, looking like a model (at least in the very biased eyes of Haruka Tenoh) then rushed down to where the graduates were sitting. Choosing to miss her row she instead walked to wear Haruka was sitting and kissed her on the mouth, hard enough that the racer thought that both their lipsticks would smudge. When she had asked Michiru to put some on her this morning, in a rare bout of total femininity, this was the exact thing she was told not to do. Well her instruction had included the phrase “later, when we’re alone”. On the rare day she did wear makeup she never wore lipstick preferring just mascara and lipgloss. Or when she was made to for some celebrity event or concert, but on stage everyone wears makeup, so it doesn’t count. And it was done by professionals.
Ok, well she was on a stage today. And Michiru looked so cute when she had asked. And she may have been hungover from the party with the team last night and needed a way to hide the dark circles...
Whatever.
The sound of paper flapping in the wind and reedy squawking returned her to reality. The attendant was attempting to get Michiru back into her seat and be a good student, only for her to wave her diploma and say that she wasn’t a student anymore. It was the most overt insubordination she had done in her years at Juuban, but not the worst, not by a long shot. Now that was a good memory. And the last time Haruka had accidentally worn Michiru’s uniform.
So she stayed in her arms until it was Haruka’s turn to be called. She got the sport award, which everyone knew was inevitable, and a deep kiss from the woman in her spot, which everyone knew was even more inevitable. She may have taken a little to much pride in showing off her diploma with Michiru a little too much at the attendant, who gave up, wailing about standards dropping.
Odango & Co. had decided to throw them a party afterwards at the shrine. They saw them a lot more often, and the two groups had started to get along better. Ami was actually on speed dial for all four of them, in Haruka’s case it was more for panicked phone calls at 2am on some assignment due first period next day. Or one memorable phone call when she’d skipped her period during exams. That made the assignment calls seem very calm, apparently.
Thankfully as they shared stories of the various shenanigans they got up to, the brainiac left that little tale out.
As the air grew colder each of the Inners swapped their school clothes for pyjamas, inviting the Outers to do the same. Makoto, Ami and Setsuna made dinner, well the others helped until a disaster got them each kicked out one by one. Except for Rei, she was making the fire, which the failed chefs huddled around.
Usagi attempted to sample dinner a bit early, Mina revealed her cooking skills to be potentially explosive, Hotaru’s knifework put a bit of extra iron in the vegetables, and Haruka and Michiru were told to get a room, shut up, or discover excactly how sharp the knives everyone else was holding the hard way. They followed that advice, then nearly charcoaled the kebabs from staring at one another too long.
Somehow the finished product was palatable. Makoto really was a miracle worker. When she opened up her restaurant, really whatever kind of food establishment she wanted, Haruka would be the number one customer...if that spot wasn’t already taken by Usagi.
During dinner, the Inners began to talk about their plans for next year, pranks, speeches, songs, yearbook notes,gatecrashing Rei’s graduation in naughty nun outfits, all kinds of symbolic gestures to be remembered. Hotaru immediately offered to tape Mina’s mouth for the last idea. It was weird that neither Michiru or her did anything like that, other than the spontaneous middle-finger-like gesture to the attendant and unnecessary school rules they lived under while they were there.
It was then she remembered the rule that irked her the most. That goddamn uniform. She also remembered her original, well third, plan to avoid wearing it and how it was not allowed. Well, she wasn’t a student anymore, was she?
Spontaneous? Yes, well so was she. Symbolic? Yup.
And so, she politely asked to add an addition to the blaze in front of her.
It twisted, it smoked, it crackled, it flamed. It roared out its last dying breaths, consumed by embers at last.
Bye-bye terrible uniform. See you in hell!
The first thing anyone said after that was Setsuna. “Hotaru? Don’t copy your Papa.”