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“Isn’t it exciting?!”
Haruka hummed, focused on her tie in the mirror. In the reflection behind her was Michiru, already dressed and smiling. She smoothed her hands over her lap and sighed—a distant, dreamy sound.
“What is?” Haruka finally asked.
“Tell me you’re joking,” she teased.
“Hardly.” One last tug and the knot was secured at her throat. She stepped back and glanced over the new high school uniform. At least it fit comfortably. “Are you ready to—”
Tender arms swept around her from behind. Michiru nuzzled into her neck, almost purring.
“This is going to be so much fun.” She squeezed Haruka for emphasis. “Don’t you think?”
Haruka blinked, then raised a brow. “It’s just school.”
And when Michiru reeled away, pain colored her expression. “Just school? But….” Michiru circled around, arms dangling around Haruka’s neck, and pouted. “You’re not even a little bit giddy?”
She tried not to roll her eyes. “It’s not like it’s changed since last time.”
That wiggle of Michiru’s hips into hers said otherwise. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.”
Blush warmed Haruka’s cheeks. “Fun?”
“Love letters in lockers, passing notes during class, sharing cute lunches in the courtyard.” Her lips curled up. “Maybe even steal a kiss in the library when no one is looking.”
She blinked. “That’s what you’re excited about?” The energetic nod said plenty. Haruka tried not to groan. “It’s all child’s play compared to what we’ve been through.”
Michiru said more, but her hold loosened and Haruka stepped aside to grab her briefcase. Their challenges diminished from galactic battles to science exams. Hardly an accomplishment in Haruka’s book. And for all they knew, another peril could be looming in the distance. She didn’t want to lower her guard if—when—that happened.
“Can we at least take the bike over?”
Haruka cocked her head. “I’m not leaving that at school.”
“No,” Michiru said through a giggle, “I meant the bicycle, silly. You know, you can pedal and I can ride on the back. Just like other students.”
“Other students do that?”
She clasped Haruka’s hand. “Please, just this once on our first day? I want it to be special.”
With those lovely eyes pleading to her? Who was Haruka to say no?
The bicycle in question had collected dust since Haruka last used it; as much as she loved the idea of driving in the Ferrari, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions if someone left so much as a fingerprint on it. She ignored the technical flaws in the bicycle—the old wheels, the loose brake handle, the worn stiff seat, and more. It held them both and was enough to reach their destination.
And yet Michiru frowned when Haruka rolled it onto the street for them.
“Hey.” She paused and dipped in to meet Michiru’s gaze. “You alright?”
Those bright eyes glossed over. “Do you really hate this?”
“Hate… what?”
“Being normal students for once?”
Haruka ignored the twinge in her chest, something she was accustomed to feeling when danger lingered nearby. “I don’t hate it.”
“But you’re not happy with it?”
She sighed, her shoulders and lips quirking up briefly. “We’ve accomplished so much, Michiru. Both in this life and past ones. We’ve traveled the world and experienced something most students don’t dream about. They get too hung up on gossip and popularity and dumb rumors and other crap that vanishes the second they graduate. It… it doesn’t feel normal.” She broke eye contact, skimming her polished leather shoes. “It feels like I’m trapped, that I can’t properly be myself. You know me; I’m not exactly good at wearing a mask and blending in.”
“Well,” Michiru gently added, “we’ve had our share of espionage, of sorts.”
Haruka cracked a short-lived smile. “I guess. But even then we had our mission. A purpose. Now? It’s a lull.”
“Is it, though?”
Michiru caught Haruka’s gaze. Turquoise hair bounced around her smiling face. Even her eyes smiled.
“You don’t need to be like everyone else,” she said, her voice as calming as the ocean. “Make your own kind of fun.”
“And what,” Haruka asked, “should that entail?”
“That’s up to you.” Michiru straightened up, as did Haruka. “For me, I’m excited about having fewer responsibilities and more time to do what makes me happy.”
“Like love letters and stuff?”
Her giggle was infectious. “You’re horrible!” She playfully smacked Haruka’s arm for good measure, only to entwine their fingers together. “Though what makes me really happy—” She squeezed her hand and nuzzled into Haruka’s shoulder briefly. “—is knowing I can spend that all with you.”
“Really?”
“Mmm. Nothing’s ever been normal for us, I know, but we deserve something simple and fleeting, don’t you think?”
No answer surfaced. Not then, not when Michiru slipped away. Even as they rode to school, Haruka rolled Michiru’s words amidst her thoughts. She sat on the back of the bicycle while Haruka peddled, waving and greeting their peers and underclassmen in passing.
She really is enjoying this, she kept to herself.
And maybe she was right. It was never going to surpass their travels or accomplishments, but they had worked themselves to the bone. Maybe in the next lifetime, they could have a quieter existence, but for now they had classes and uniforms and boxed lunches and teachers who couldn’t fathom all that they had experienced.
It brought a burning itch throughout Haruka’s skin—the inaction borderline unbearable. She needed stimulation, something to look forward to. For her previous races in Africa, it was reaching the finish line before everyone else. But now? What was there now?
Michiru’s laughter shattered her reverie. She sat in the desk in front of Haruka, currently occupied with her peers. They chatted and smiled, as if nothing else in the world matter. For that moment, they were eternal. Haruka almost forgot what that felt like—to be blissfully oblivious to the world outside her personal bubble.
And then she found herself gazing more at Michiru’s shimmering hair than the chalkboard. At one point, Michiru fluffed those locks over her shoulder, revealing the nape of her neck oh-so briefly. Haruka held her breath. Her pulse skipped. Part of her wanted to laugh. They had been together across multiple lifetimes and yet she gazed upon Michiru as if it were the first time.
A smirk lined her lips. She flipped to a fresh page of paper and scribbled a note. She didn’t bother to proofread it; Haruka simply tore it free, folded it into an origami frog, and poked Michiru’s back with a pencil when their teacher wrote out a math equation.
Wide eyes peeked back to Haruka. Upon finding the paper frog on her shoulder, Michiru gasped, grinned, and claimed it as the teacher spun back to face the class.
There was a lengthy explanation about the numbers and symbols on the chalkboard. Haruka ceased to care. All she heard was her heart hammering in her ears. She thought of nothing but what she wrote in that brief note. It fueled her through multiple classes, monotonous lectures be damned. By the time lunch was in session, she gathered her belongings, slipped out of the room, and headed outside.
The sun kissed her face and the cool breeze tousled her hair. Haruka ignored the idle chatter amongst those eating outside. Hopefully none of the younger senshi spotted her; she didn’t have the time to stop and talk. She meandered to the back of the building, where few bothered to hike to for the sake of food. Those who were there did so for solitude and paid no attention to Haruka strolling by.
Around the corner was a worn, metal bench tucked beneath a ginkgo. An old relic from generations ago gone forgotten in light of renovations and newer additions to the exterior. Haruka brushed aside the old leaves collecting on the seat before sitting down with an exhale. She tilted her head back, marveling at the fractured sunlight caught in the leaves. It wasn’t driving in her car, but in its own way, it soothed her.
Haruka ignored her boxed lunch and closed her eyes. How long will this last? she thought. It’s only a matter of time before we’re caught up in a new danger. How are we supposed to enjoy all this while knowing that?
She never heard the gentle footsteps approaching her, but the hand smoothing over her shoulder garnered her attention. Haruka snapped her eyes open. By then, Michiru glided in front of her and slid into her lap.
“Well, well.” Michiru tangled a hand in Haruka’s tie and tugged her closer. “I wasn’t expecting a note from you, never mind one like that.”
There was no holding back that smug smile of hers. “You like it?”
Blush colored Michiru’s face. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe,” she purred, wiggling deeper into Haruka’s lap, “I was hoping you could expand upon what you meant by having me for lunch out here.”
Haruka gently licked her lips. Hands skimmed up Michiru’s sides and snaked under her shirt. She never bothered to check if anyone spied upon them. That was half the fun, right? Teasing one another, knowing they could get caught? With her palms pressed into her soft back, Haruka dipped in, brushed parted lips over her neck, and planted a deep kiss there.
A subtle coo stuttered in Michiru’s throat. She loved how Michiru raked her hair and clutched her tie as if it was all that bonded them together. A flick of her tongue and another delightful sound squeezed out of Michiru’s lips. By then, Haruka brought her grinning lips to her ear.
“Something like that,” she murmured.
“I… wasn’t expecting that,” Michiru said, a touch breathless.
“Oh? Is it alright?”
“It’s more than alright,” Michiru almost moaned out. “You always surprise me in the best ways.”
Tucking thick locks behind her ear, Haruka leaned back until they came face-to-face. Their noses bumped, their eyes flicked over each other, and they eased closer until their lips locked with one another.
And before she submerged into that decadent kiss, Haruka nearly moaned out, “Good.”