Chapter Text
Michiru POV:
It was 3 a.m. Of course it was. And she’d had the dream again. Michiru rolled out of bed. There was no point in trying to fall back asleep, so she may as well get violin practice in before she had to go to work. She yawned and walked to the bathroom in her pajamas and cat slippers. She ran a comb recklessly through her aquamarine hair and tied it back in a lazy ponytail. She washed her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror for a second. She had prominent dark circles, a side effect of waking at unholy hours every morning for weeks. She’d tried everything. Melatonin, sleeping pills, meditation, sleep studies, you name it, she’d tried it. But nothing worked. The dreams returned, night after night without fail. She rarely remembered more than flashes, but she had the unshakeable feeling that they were all connected, all the same story. She kept a notebook on her bedside table with the little of the dreams she could recall written inside. She walked back to her bed to retrieve the notebook and write down what little she remembered this time. A powerful beam of light and the feeling of injustice needing to be defeated. It was an odd feeling, but she knew it well. It featured often in her dreams. Other recurring themes included flashes of blonde hair and blue eyes, and a forceful wind. She couldn’t understand the importance of these flashes, but she wished that she could sleep properly. She flipped through the notebook, rereading past entries.
January 27th,
I had a strange dream last night. I don’t remember all of it, but it felt important. I felt like I was hurtling through space, watching the planets pass by at impossible speeds. The strangest part was that I wasn’t alone. I never saw whoever was with me, but I felt their presence, strong and forceful, but not in a scary way.
January 28th,
I had a similar dream again, this time all I remember is the feeling of weariness and the faint echo of a voice that felt familiar, but too far away to hear properly.
January 29th,
I made someone a promise. A promise I don’t remember, but I feel like I haven’t fulfilled it. I want to believe this is all just a dream, but it isn’t feeling like one anymore.
January 30th,
I was surrounded by water, but the presence was there too. I heard waves and laughter, and I felt happier than I ever remember being.
The notebook was filled with entries like this, seventeen in total. Seventeen fragments of a story Michiru felt she was supposed to remember. She flipped through the pages, skimming snippets as she went.
February 1st,
-blue eyes
February 5th,
-a mirror?
February 9th,
-terrible pain, like I lost something.
February 12th,
I saw her face today.
Michiru paused when she read the entry. It was from the day before, but she realized, with a terrible clenching in her gut, that she couldn’t remember writing it. But that was definitely her handwriting. She couldn’t remember what she had dreamt then either. Most painfully, she couldn’t remember the face she had supposedly seen. She flipped to the next page, hurriedly writing down her dream before it could run away from her.
February 13th,
I saw something this time. A pillar of bright light. I felt like there was something wrong, and I was the only one who could right it.
Shaken by the sudden gap in her memory, she opened her phone and looked through her text messages from the day before. She found several she didn’t remember sending. All to her friend Setsuna. She scrolled through them, unease swelling in her chest the more she read.
M: I had one of those dreams again. I saw her face this time.
S: Really?? What did she look like?
M: She was blonde, and she had the most beautiful blue eyes. I feel like she meant something to me, more than I know right now.
Michiru stared. How could she have just forgotten something like that? And when had she told Setsuna about the dreams? As far as she knew, this was the first she’d told Setsuna about them. But it didn’t look that way at all. She scrolled back farther, and confirmed her suspicions. She hadn’t told Setsuna anything. How had she known?
Michiru scrambled to dial Setsuna’s number, pressing call in record time. She held the phone to her ear, listening to it ring. Setsuna picked up on the second ring. Michiru heard her tired voice crackle through the speaker.
“Michiru? Is everything alright?”
“Setsuna, did I text you yesterday?” Michiru demanded, wincing at the harshness of her own voice. Setsuna was quiet for a moment too long.
“I did, didn't I?” Michiru asked exasperatedly.
“Are you saying you don’t remember?” Setsuna asked carefully.
“Remember what?” Michiru asked, panic choking her voice. Setsuna sighed.
“We need to talk. How fast can you get to my house?” The older woman asked.
“I’ll be there in ten.” Michiru said, hanging up without saying goodbye. She scrambled to her closet, shoving on the nearest pair of shoes. She ran down the stairs, grabbing her keys and wallet from the hook by the door. She hurriedly went outside, pausing only to lock the door. She was in her car in moments, backing out of her driveway and nearly hitting the mailbox in her hurry. She drove as quickly as she dared, arriving at Setsuna’s house in nine minutes. She had barely parked before she was running up to Setsuna’s door, locking her car as she went. She didn’t even have to knock. Setsuna was already waiting. The older woman ushered her into the living room and thrust a mug of green tea into her hands.
"I already called your boss. You don't have to go to work today." She said.
“How are you so calm?” Michiru asked, desperately trying to focus on something other than the dreams. Setsuna sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. Michiru numbly obeyed.
“I’m sure you have a million questions, but we’re going to start with what you know.” Setsuna said soothingly. Michiru fished the notebook from the pocket of her pajamas with shaking hands. It was slightly crumpled but readable.
“Oh good. You’ve been keeping records.” Setsuna remarked, opening to the first page. She skimmed through it, raising an eyebrow at moments, frowning at others. Michiru watched her anxiously.
“Am I losing my mind?” She asked, voice quavering. Setsuna looked up. Their eyes met and Michiru stiffened.
“No, you’re not.” Setsuna said carefully, returning to the journal entries.
“Then what is going on?” Michiru asked, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.
“You’re remembering. And far sooner than you should have.” Setsuna said. Michiru stared at her nervously.
“Remembering what?” She begged, clutching the mug so hard her knuckles went white.
“Drink the tea first. Then I’ll explain.” Setsuna promised. Michiru raised the warm mug to her lips, taking a careful sip. Setsuna waited until she had finished the whole mug before beginning.
“This isn’t the first life you’ve lived. And it won’t be the last.” Setsuna said evenly. Michiru listened, silent and skeptical.
“The dreams were supposed to guide you and help you adjust to your next life.”
“So I’m a reincarnation? Of what?” Michiru asked, raising an eyebrow. Setsuna patiently let her interrupt, then continued.
“In your last life, you were a protector of the solar system. Those dreams are memories of your last life. The cycle continues after this life, the guardians always return when they’re needed the most.”
“Who is she?” Michiru interrupted again, almost scared to know the answer. Setsuna hesitated.
“She was someone you knew.” Michiru frowned.
“That tells me nothing.”
“I’ll tell you no more than this.” Setsuna stood and crossed the room to a bookshelf. She picked up a decorative sword that Michiru had seen many times before. In the past Setsuna had told her the items on the shelf were costume gear. Setsuna returned, sword in hand.
“This is the Space Sword, one of three talismans protected by the Outer Guardians. She was its guardian.” Setsuna explained, turning the sword reverently in her hands. Michiru reached out to touch it, drawn by the shine of the silver and the unmistakable feeling of recognition. Setsuna quickly stopped her.
“I don’t know what will happen if you touch this, so please don’t.” She instructed. Michiru frowned.
“Then why can you touch it?” She asked, crossing her arms.
“Because I am a guardian as well. I was entrusted with the secret of our existence.” Setsuna said solemnly.
“So you remember everything?” Michiru asked, imagining all the years of death and life her friend had borne alone. Setsuna smiled sadly.
“No, I don’t.”
“You don’t?” Michiru said hesitantly, afraid to pry further.
“Some things should be forgotten.” Setsuna said simply. Michiru felt as though the very air in the room thickened.
“Then why am I remembering now?” She whispered.
“I’m not sure. There must have been a trigger, something relating to your past life.” Setsuna mused. Michiru had the sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“It has to do with her, doesn’t it.” She asked thickly. Setsuna watched her for a quiet moment before nodding.
“Why?” Michiru pleaded. Setsuna said nothing for a long while.
“You know, don’t you. You just don’t want to.” She ventured. Michiru felt hot tears welling in her eyes, blurring her vision. An inexplicable feeling of pain washed over her. Tears rolled down her face before she could stop them. She didn’t know what she was mourning, only that she was, and she had done it before. She had lost something so precious to her without even knowing what it was. She met Setsuna’s eyes with blurry vision and saw sad understanding in the other woman’s face. A whisper slipped through the curtain of her grief.
“I’m sorry Michiru.”
“Why did I have to remember? I don’t even know her name, yet I feel so broken.” She choked out through heaving sobs. Setsuna scooted across the couch to wrap her in a hug.
“She cries for you too, I can feel it.”