Another heads up before anyone reads this chapter. This story is another companion piece, this time to both The Die is Cast and Take Me Away which is focused upon Haruka and Michiru, though you don't need to have read those pieces to know what is going on in this one as they are all separate from one another. Alright, on to the dessert! :]

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or any of its characters (as much as I might like to ;).

"I've fallen out of favor

And I've fallen from grace

Fallen out of trees

And I've fallen on my face

Fallen out of taxis

Out of windows too

Fell in your opinion

When I fell in love with you.

Sometimes I wish for falling

Wish for the release

Wish for falling through the air

To give me some relief

Because falling's not the problem

When I'm falling I'm in peace

It's only when I hit the ground

It causes all the grief…"

Florence and the Machine—Falling

Chapter Four: When I Hit the Ground

He'd come over for tea on one of his usual monthly visits and when his former sister-in-law tearfully told him that she had lost her sole means of financially supporting herself, Ichiro Tenoh became very quiet. He was a practical and benevolent man, but even his benevolence had its limits. He just had to define what they were with his family and how far they he could stretch them for their sakes.

Haruka watched him from a distance, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Her uncle did a lot for them already, she knew, but he was always holding it over their heads as if it was somehow their fault that her father had decided to up and abandon them like the cowardly son of a bitch that he was. As if it was her mother's fault that she hadn't wanted to be left alone and had fallen in love a second time, only to have that man leave as well, this time with another child to take care of. I that was what love was then, love was a cheat and if love was a cheat, then Haruka wanted nothing to do with it.

Haruka watched as her uncle tapped the coffee table separating him and her mother with one of his long, bony fingers to emphasize the poignancy of his words. And now the blonde was sure her uncle was also going to find some way to blame their mother because her boss decided to replace her with someone half her age and twice her bra size and a university degree. Haruka took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. She hated people sometimes. She really did.

"You've certainly gotten yourself into a spot this time, Moriko." Ichiro commented as she dried her eyes while he leaned back then sipped at his tea. He swallowed and nodded his head in approval, "Excellent tea this."

"Thank you," She said. When she spoke her voice was shaky, but she tried to hide this by making it lower and giving the illusion that she was stronger than she was.

"Well, I can't make any promises," the elder Tenoh announced looking down at his wristwatch, "but let me make some calls and see what I can do. I might be able to find you something before the end of the month."

"A job?" Moriko sniffled.

"Yes." Ichiro replied curtly, rising from the sofa and buttoning his suit coat, "I'll call on you Friday afternoon if I've found anything."

"Thank you, Ichiro-san." Moriko said, cracking a rare ghost of a smile.

He bowed, slipped on his shoes, and let himself out. Moriko took a few more moments to compose herself and then retrieved the tray of empty teacups sitting on the coffee table. Haruka watched her as she rose and moved past the blonde to get to the sink.

"Do you think he'll find anything?" Haruka asked, turning towards her mother and resting her elbows on the counter.

Moriko didn't turn around, but responded with emotion still in her voice, "I'm sure he will. Your uncle's a very resourceful man."

For some reason, Haruka felt guilty. Like she'd failed a test she hadn't studied hard enough for and she knew that she had to try to do something or say something to make this better.

"Mom, I'm sorry about what happened. I know it's no one's fault, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept." Haruka said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck as she tried to figure out how best to continue. Anything having to do with emotions had never been her strong suit and though—she was putting forward a gallant attempt at consoling her mother—it felt weak, insincere, even to her.

That was when Moriko lost what little composure she had managed to regain. She tossed one of the teacups she had been rinsing roughly into the sink where it burst into a wave of tiny ceramic pieces, startling her daughter behind her into silence.

"What would you know about acceptance, Haruka, hm?!" Moriko's voice lowered to a sharp, dangerous tone causing the blonde teen to take a few steps back, "Have you ever had someone you love hurt you beyond your ability to heal? Have you ever been saddled with so much weight on your shoulders you thought it was going to suffocate you? Have you ever had a child that acted so unnaturally you knew other people whispered behind your back whenever you went somewhere with your family? Of course you don't! You know nothing of acceptance and I would appreciate it, Haruka, if you just wouldn't say anything about it around me. Just don't say anything!"

Haruka remained where she stood, frozen to the linoleum there as so many emotions flooded through her: fear, anger, hurt, guilt. Logically, a part of her knew that her mother was just lashing out in frustration because she finally had someone cornered long enough to let out all of the hurt she had been feeling, but another part of her rallied against that thought knowing that she didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

Maybe she shouldn't have said anything. The blonde had just felt so damn helpless, like she had to do something to help and saying what she'd said obviously hadn't made anything better. In fact, she'd only made things worse, but it wasn't her fault was it? Her mother only ever rarely yelled at her and perhaps that was why this time it stung so bad. Haruka clamped her jaw tightly shut as she tried to keep the tears that were forming behind her lashes from forming and giving her away. She was hurt, but she wouldn't show it. What good would it do if she did?

Moriko didn't say anything else, just hunched over the sink and began to weep, her hands gripping the metal sides so hard her knuckles had drained of all their color.

Haruka was at a loss. What could she do to make this right? Should she do anything? No, do nothing, she would only make it worse with saying something else that was stupid because that's how she was. She had known that she wasn't any good with comforting words, but she still had to try. What else could she do except stand here and be helpless? Stand here and watch her mother crumble under every burden that had ever been dropped upon her shoulders? No she couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that…but then, what would she do?

Moriko turned around, her face wet with tears. Her voice was weak and she barely sounded as though she might still be breathing, but her white knuckles clasping the sink edge were proof enough of that. "Go away, Haruka, please," Moriko pleaded, broken now, more broken than she had ever felt. "Go somewhere, do anything, go back to your room, I don't care. I just…need to be alone right now, is all."

Haruka didn't budge at first and Moriko became more insistent almost vehement in her grief, "Go away, I said!"

She'd had to be told twice, but she'd be damned if she'd stand here to be told off like a slow ten year old for a third time. Like lightning, Haruka moved, but not back to her room. Instead, she swiped her keys off of the table and slammed the front door behind her as she retreated into the night. Her pace down the bungalow steps had been like snow sliding down a steep mountainside and once her shoes hit pavement, she ran. Haruka's breathing fell into a familiar rhythm as her feet began to pick up speed then she was sprinting then racing, where to she didn't know, just anywhere but here.

The water parted as the swimmer's lithe form moved through it. Midway through her glide on the surface, she flipped into a dive and swam down into the deep end of the pool. As the water darkened around her, Michiru closed her eyes and let buoyancy gradually pull her back up towards the surface. The taming quality the evening swims tended to have on her spirit, for some reason, couldn't dispel her restlessness tonight. Michiru sucked in a deep breath as she broke through the calm surface water and let it out in a ruthless rush of angry air.

Slowly, she made her way over to the side and pulled herself up the ladder. The pool room that accompanied the Olympic size swimming pool that occupied the lowest level of their mansion was left mainly undisturbed by the rest of the family members save her mother on some odd occasions. At all hours of the night, Michiru would be the only one down here, alone with her thoughts.

She reached for the liver-colored towel spread out on the back of a lounger and dabbed the water from her face and neck gently.

What was wrong with her? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw a large wave stretching over the city like a shadow, heard the rush of the water like thunder in her ears. It had been happening on and off for the last few days, but the hallucinations—if they could even be called that—had started hitting her hard after school this afternoon and hadn't let up all evening. Like a current gaining momentum before it rounds into a new direction, the visions were growing more and more vivid. They wouldn't ebb or lessen, not even when she tried to relax or took an aspirin for the headache they were creating. It was how she'd known that she wouldn't be able to sleep.

Michiru had hoped that a good swim would clear her mind, help her work off some of the adrenaline and useless feelings of dread that were looming over her, but all it had done was exhaust her more. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders and stared down into the aquamarine depths of the pool.

A ridge of the darkest ocean water hung, opaque and sturdy as a brick wall over Tokyo bay and the surrounding buildings. The tallest of the city's skyscrapers fell short of the liquid pinnacle at its height and the red, green, white, blue, and yellow fluorescent lights from apartment windows, billboards, and nightclubs were submerged in a world of blue shadow. People ran screaming like rodents in the streets, but their legs couldn't carry them fast enough away from the demon surf that it was the fate of all mankind to perish under…

Michiru shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold. Why was she so disturbed by this particular vision? Granted, it wasn't a pleasant one, but it was like a disaster in a science fiction movie or novel. It wasn't like it was something realistic, that really could happen and even if it did, what made it different than the torrent of tropical storms that their little archipelago had survived over the centuries? Why did this one terror consume her? Why did it feel like it could happen tomorrow?

"Because it can."

Michiru whipped her head around back towards the lounge chair where she had pulled her towel from. A tall dark haired woman was sitting there now, legs slanted to the side beneath an elegantly cut purple skirt, ankles crossed. Her skin was a medium tan and appeared smooth. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, but her garnet eyes held a feeling in their stare that seemed to Michiru to come from a time before time.

The girl in Michiru was suddenly at the forefront, making her feel frightened and vulnerable alone with this stranger in her own home. It was the sort of thing bad horror movies were made of. As Michiru contemplated whether or not she would be able to sprint to the double doors at the other side of the room before the longer legged woman could catch her, the older woman raised her hand calmly as if to say 'hold that thought'.

"Please," the older woman began gently, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"How did you get in here?" Michiru asked, her voice shaking.

Normally, her parents or brother told her when they were planning on having visitors and since it was a very late hour, no one accept maybe Koichi would still be awake. Michiru was certain that if her brother was anywhere right now, it wasn't in the mansion so there would have been no one there to let this woman in. So, how had she managed to get into the house when both her parents and the servants were already asleep and not activate the alarm? What had she done? Materialized in midair? Mentally, Michiru shook her head. These hallucinations were beginning to make her crazy.

"You may not believe me, but you and I have met before," the woman continued in a soft, even tone, dodging Michiru's question altogether. "We were friends once, a long time ago."

Michiru's eyebrows rose in confusion, "No, I would have remembered you, even as a child. You're not a typical woman. You're more statuesque than most, more-like the goddess in Botticelli's Venus de Milo than anyone I've seen before. I wouldn't have forgotten you."

Setsuna smirked. Ever the romantic charmer, she thought.

"This is the first time we've met, in this life anyway," Setsuna said.

Michiru's voice wavered, fear rising again in her belly, "What do you mean 'in this life'?"

Things were beginning to get too weird and Michiru felt herself inching closer and closer towards the escape plan she had cultivated earlier. If all else failed, she could probably defend herself. Michiru—a girl with an older brother and a multitude of uncles and male cousins—had always been able to handle herself in a fight, but that was mostly with people who cared for her and had had no real intention of harming her in the first place. However, this woman was older, possibly stronger, and if the length of her legs was real and not a mirage of the imagination then Michiru might not have such high odds in her favor after all.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Setsuna Meioh and I am the keeper of the Gates of Time and a sailor senshi."

Michiru stood still, looking the woman up and down from her small feet up over her lean sculpted calves up through her all too perfect torso and friendly smile. Yes, definitely a mirage. She was dreaming, that's what it was. Maybe she'd fallen asleep in one of the lounge chairs and had forgotten how she had gotten there. It had happened before once when she'd tried to pull an all-night swim practice for the national tournaments they were having the next day and Michiru had ended up being late because she had slept the whole early morning in the poolroom.

Michiru narrowed her eyes and announced, determined, "You're not real."

Setsuna mentally rolled her eyes. Earthlings, why was it that they always assumed the improbable was impossible? Had their own history taught them nothing about themselves? She had expected a reaction like this one, but it was always hard being constantly reminded of the shortcomings of the people she eternally guarded. The time senshi decided that it was time to make her presence known. She stood slowly, glad to see that the aqua haired girl across from her held her ground and didn't try to run away. That was a good sign. Setsuna hadn't awakened a senshi in at least a millennia or so and it was possible that she hadn't kept up with the times as much as she would have liked to. Perhaps, training this girl would help her get back in touch with that little part of her humanity she had lost over the thousands of years spent in isolation guarding the gates and watching civilizations be born and die from afar over and over and over again. Maybe this would be good for her, but the most important things came first.

Setsuna raised her arm above her head and instantly a purple and red wand with a ringed planet as its head appeared within her grasp out of thin air. Michiru's eyes widened like saucers, but she didn't have time to say anything as Setsuna shouted out a phrase and suddenly she was engulfed in another world of burgundy ribbons, encasing her naked form in a perfect white sailor fuka and short black skirt that didn't fall any lower than her upper thigh. Finally, a staff with a large garnet bulb at one end settled into her hands and as Setsuna swung it through the air with ageless grace, Michiru began to wonder if even her artistic imagination could conjure up a scene like this.

The butt end of the staff finally landed against the tiled floor of the poolroom, the sharp sound echoing off of the glass walls all around them for indescribable seconds afterward. When Michiru finally found her voice, it was barely above a whisper.

"What are you?"

"A sailor senshi," Pluto explained patiently, weighing her staff in her hands, "is a legendary warrior of our solar system. We haven't always existed, like all things, our time has come and gone and now it is here again. You, Michiru, are a sailor senshi as well."

Michiru swallowed and began to shake her head as her mind rebelled against such a thing.

"No, I can't be what you said I am—"

"—a sailor senshi—" Pluto kindly corrected

"—because I-I can't do that-that thing you just did."

For the first time in her life, Michiru Kaioh had been struck inarticulate by something. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"You will be able to transform," Pluto informed her gently, "once I show you how to. We all have a patron planet where our powers come from and to which we are forever connected. You are the senshi of Neptune and your element is water, seawater to be exact."

Michiru suddenly heard the sound of the surf on a calm day in her ears and memories of being a child at her parents' boathouse on the coast began to flash through her line of vision: running in the water, swimming out too far and being carried back in by her father, finding the first ever conch shell that had sheltered her adolescent fascination with anything from the ocean.

"It wasn't all a coincidence was it?" Michiru asked, hollowly, realizing how contrived her entire existence had been.

Setsuna's face took on a mournful expression and she shook her head, "Nothing is a coincidence where we are concerned, I'm afraid."

Michiru's will and sense of self came back to her all in one powerful rush. "Why me? I'm just a teenager, I'm not even seventeen yet! What do you expect me to do?!" She shouted.

Setsuna realized how ludicrous the idea of a child being a soldier was to the modern human mind, but there was nothing she could do. The senshi of Neptune had to be awakened. Venus was already fighting the early reincarnation of their enemies in Britain and Europe, but too soon their noxious influences would filter through Asia and finally Japan searching for the one spark of light they had been reborn to snuff out of existence: the princess. That couldn't be allowed to happen. If it did the world as they knew it would end and this time it wouldn't come back. None of the other senshi had been located yet, but if Setsuna could find Uranus and Neptune, their combined power should be enough to hold off the wave of darkness creeping over the planet until the princess and the others could be found.

"We have dark enemies, Michiru, powerful enemies who would like to see nothing better than an end to all life on this and every other planet in the universe. It is our job as senshi to protect the Earth against these dark forces who would seek to destroy it," Setsuna explained.

Michiru closed her eyes and managed a deep breath. "This is insane," she mumbled dejectedly.

Setsuna agreed with her young charge on that point, but it was a moot one by now.

"Please—" She began.

"No!" Michiru seethed, "I refuse to listen to anymore of this! Get out! Get out before I call the police! Get out before I throw you out!"

Michiru squeezed her eyes shut tighter until bright colors infiltrated the bleakness. Her comfortable, dull, safe world had vanished to be replaced with what? A reality where she was cosmically blacklisted by fate to tidy the universe of evil people she didn't give a flying fuck for? No! She wouldn't stand for it.

A few moments passed in silence. Michiru felt the air around her grow colder and then suddenly spring back to room temperature again. When she finally opened her eyes she was alone again in a poolroom that was very much the same as it had been before save for Michiru's lost sense of security and the round, staff-shaped crack in one of the floor tiles.

Haruka had stopped to catch her breath at the storage garage on Fifth Street, where her mother had ordered all of her dad's tools and vehicles to be moved to along with a lot of the things they had owned when they were first married so they would be there if he ever did decide to return to them. Coincidentally—since her mother had already paid for the space—it was where Haruka was also allowed to keep two of her motorcycles. One was red and had once been her uncle's, that one most often sat parked outside the bungalow so she could ride it to school every morning.

The other was a yellowish-gold dream bike with black chrome facings. That custom ordered Ducati had been a gift from her grandfather before he'd died. Haruka let herself into the building and moved expertly through the musty darkness of the garage. She had found the bike before she'd even opened the garage door. The protective tarp was unclipped from around the slim body of the bike and thrown off to a place unseen. Haruka then grabbed a helmet, mounted up, and headed for the farthest corner of her district.

There was water in the streets and it splayed minimally beneath the motorcycle's tires as it sped over the pavement and rounded another of many curves in the road. A mist had risen over the bay, concealing the dark ocean from Haruka's view as she slowed to amble over towards the metal railing separating city from sea. The sun had been down for hours now and the street lights were fuzzy balls burning thin impressions through the fog.

Haruka moved to unbuckle her helmet. The strap came loose easily and her head slid out of the protective plastic. As she threw down the kickstand on her bike, the blonde sighed heavily. She was tired and it had been such a long time since she had slept through the night completely that she couldn't remember what being well rested felt like. On top of that she was irritable. Her thoughts were incoherent. Then there had been the incident with her mother…never in her life had Haruka heard her mother yell at her like that. Like she really hated her. It was surprising and…hurtful and though it made sense to her that being shouted out by her mother would hurt, it was surprising just how much her mother's vehemence had affected her.

The tall blonde had always prided herself on her ability to control her emotions and her ability to maintain her distance from everyone else. This innate talent came in handy when she had a fight with Harumi or broke up with one of the girls she had been "dating". She wasn't heartless, but it didn't make sense to her to fall apart every time everyone else did. What good would it do? Really?

Most of the girls she'd broken up with were better off now. The ignored her completely or gave her the cold shoulder whenever she crossed paths with them in the hall, but in large part, they seemed happier, healed from their experiences with her. Complete in a way she wasn't.

Haruka was broken, she could never heal. Why she felt that way, she wasn't for certain, but it had always proven to be true.

There are reasons I keep my distance, Haruka thought as she tucked the helmet under her arm and moved to lean her hip against the railing. The coolness of the fog collected on the warm skin of her face, obscuring the evidence of tears shed on the drive. Never would the tall blonde admit to crying. Tears were beyond her. It was something she had always known about herself. Intrinsically. As if she could separate her consciousness from her body and look down through all of the layers of superficial stuff to her center and see the void there. See that there was something vital that was missing in herself. That had never been there to begin with. It seemed like a foolish thing to say out loud to Harumi or her mom, but to Haruka, it made perfect sense.

Why had her father abandoned them, more specifically why had he abandoned her? Because she couldn't be the son he had wanted. Because he had been an incompetent loser who mom had wasted her time on. Those were the excuses their mother gave whenever they asked, either that or that she really didn't know, but there was always a reason why something happened and Haruka believed she was that reason.

The ironic thing was, though, that Haruka was better at a lot of things than most boys. She could tie three separate tie knots when most boys she knew still wore clip-ons. She could more than hold her own in a fight and according to quite a few girls, she was a damn better lover than a lot of the guys she could name in her year and above. But she would never quite have a foot in that masculine world.

She would never be—and never wanted to be—a boy. She could never legally marry a woman she was in love with and be her husband, be a father to children, or lead any sort of domestic life she felt she would be satisfied with. And yet, Haruka would never be a normal girl. She would never marry a man, she would never have children by one, or have a son to carry on her husband's all-so-important family legacy. Haruka couldn't be both and she couldn't be either. In this way, she was incomplete, a part of her was lacking. It had all started with her father's abandonment.

He must have known, Haruka thought, that he'd lost a son and gained some sort of deformed thing that could never be like other men's children.

The sting started up again behind her eyes and Haruka gripped the railing until her knuckles hurt. Damn it. There was just no controlling it. Maybe doing something constructive would help instead of standing out here brooding. The tall blonde hopped on her bike again and zoomed down a few side streets she frequented on days when she didn't have school and pulled up next to a flower stall. Buying flowers for her mother wouldn't solve their money problem, but it would make Haruka feel better about the argument they'd had. Right now, feeling better was all that mattered.

The sidewalks weren't particularly busy with people, but they weren't dead either. More than the odd night traveler passed Haruka as she put down the kick stand and removed her helmet for the second time that evening. An old man in a tweed suit that looked to be as about old and threadbare as he was, tended to the flower buckets, tenderly rearranging the single stems at odd intervals; sometimes pulling one or two up from its cold bath to snip off a rotten end or two. In the middle of pruning a rose, the old man caught sight of Haruka and waved.

"Hello, dear girl. How have you been?"

Haruka stuffed her hands in her jean pockets and placated a false smile.

"Evening, Mr. Namida. Very well, thanks. I'd like to pick up a few flowers, if you don't mind."

Mr. Namida wiped his hands on his leather apron and stood, "Not at all. For a girl I imagine?"

Haruka shook her head and moved to stand beside the flower buckets so she could decide more easily which ones she would like to buy.

"For my mother," Haruka explained. "We had an argument of sorts before I left home and I feel like I need to make it up to her."

Mr. Namida rubbed his grey goatee thoughtfully.

"I can offer several suggestions if you're interested?"

"Please," Haruka pleaded.

The hopeless tone in Haruka's voice made Mr. Namida chuckle, "Let's see. The dark pink rose embodies compassion and forgiveness. It might be a good place to start."

Haruka nodded, "Perfect, I will take half a dozen of those, please."

Mr. Namida smiled and began the delicate process of preparing the bouquet to travel. Meanwhile, Haruka's hands reached into her pockets and encountered thin air.

"Wait," she grimaced. "I didn't bring any money with me."

Mr. Namida continued rolling the flowers in wax paper and tying them together with one long swath of red ribbon, "You can pay me next time you see me, dear girl. Until then pay my respects to your lovely mother, will you?"

The old man and his wife had always had a soft spot in their hearts for her mother.

Haruka smiled, "Will do."

The flowers were secured into a saddle bag and as an ill wind began to blow, the blonde zipped up her jacket, strapped on her helmet, and rode off into the rising storm.

If sleeping wasn't so necessary for existence, Michiru would have gone completely without it.

As it was, pacing across her room wasn't helping her get much rest either. Her restlessness had transformed into something a good deal more sinister. Now, she couldn't even sit down to draw or read without feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Something was wrong. She'd hoped she had been overreacting. She had even gone down stairs and double checked all of the locks and that the outside alarm was on, but none of it made her feel any more at ease than she had before.

The rise of the hectic surf in her ears made it impossible for Michiru to hear the slap of her barefooted feet against the hardwood floor as she marched from wall to wall of her bedroom. She could feel the tide—as if it was a human thing—filling her up and then fiercely abandoning her just as quickly as it came, leaving her stomach to do flip-flops in the emptiness that remained. The wind was rapping against the shutters protecting her windows from the fragmenting rain at the same tempo that the current within her raged.

Something was wrong!

Every iota of Michiru's body was screaming at her to do something about it, to do something to stop the deadly flood drowning it, but what could she do? She didn't even know if what she was feeling was valid. To her own specifications, everything in their home was quiet. The doors and windows on all floors were locked and tucked up for the night. The alarm system was on and everyone but her seemed to be asleep, even Koichi who had crept in about an hour ago with his own key. There was nothing she could do because everything was fine. She was just being a crazy woman again. Maybe when her mother woke up, she would talk to her about seeing a counselor about these strange delusions…

Michiru sighed and closed her eyes. It was there again, the wall of water looming over the city ready to push it into oblivion. This time it was different though. The green haired woman she'd seen in the pool room was there, standing in the middle of a deserted street, staff held firmly in both hands. The wave moved towards her propelled by its own momentum, in slow motion at first, then all too quickly.

Michiru shrieked. She shouted and tried to run towards Setsuna to pull her out of the way, but the time senshi held her ground.

"What are you doing?!" Michiru shouted. "Run! It's going to kill us all."

"Where would you have me run to, Michiru? Surely you of all people must know that once the sea engulfs this island and the earth falls into darkness, there will be no place to run to."

Setsuna raised her staff and the wave stopped where the ceramic surface of the weapon met salt water. Michiru watched, wide eyed, as the time senshi struggled against the fury of nature. Surely, she wasn't going to win. No one could win against something like that. They were both going to die anyway so why even try…but if Michiru really felt that way then why was every cell in her body propelling her forward towards the two warring forces? Setsuna took a step back, the harsh spray of water beginning to overcome her.

Michiru stopped in her tracks and raised her arms to shield the water from her face.

"Why?!" She shouted, into the swirling abyss flooding around them.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Setsuna gritted her teeth as her staff was swept away from her by a jet of seawater and she lost her footing, "Give into your true self and it won't be!"

Then the waves took them both and the world was submerged in a strangling darkness…

Michiru came back to reality gasping as if she had held her breath too long. She was in her room again and both of her feet were solidly planted on the ground. The wind rattled against the shutters wetly once or twice, but aside from that everything was quiet. Michiru took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. That wasn't the first time tonight that she had fallen completely out of reality and into the not-so-tranquil sea of her own subconscious fears. She was sure it wasn't a coincidence; things like that just didn't happen for no reason at all.

The rain ravaged wind rattled the shutters of her room another time more fiercely than before as if it was trying to break through the imported wood to reach her. The current inside of Michiru swelled in her chest at the invitation and she knew then—she knew in that one moment of intense feeling that where she needed to be was wherever the wind called her like it called the waves of the ocean. Without, hesitation, she grabbed her jacket and ran down stairs and out into the rain where the waves were calling her.

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