#michiru transforms

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Michiru had seen Sailor Neptune in her dreams, flickering in peripheral vision as she turned away from silver backed mirrors, and in the ocean waves of the many beaches her family visited from the fanciest of hotels to second, fourth homes. The soldier had been an ephemeral companion for as long as Michiru could remember, warping in and out of her awareness lest she forget that unknown forces had plans for her.

Everyone had a plan for her.

Except herself.

Too many wants and desires were layered over her shoulders like fine silks the tailors asked if her mother thought were just right. She barely had room to figure out what, if any, were her own.

But she knew she did not want anything to do with that soldier. If she could have exorcised this personal haunting from her life, she would have. But no one else knew of her. No one else could have helped. No one else would have believed. If she had spoken of it beyond her first young mentions, when it could be passed off as an ‘imaginary friend,’ then she would have been considered flawed, broken, something to whisk away and hide. Be ashamed of and ridiculed for and thought forever insane.

But Michiru had not been insane. That soldier had been with her the whole time, haunting her, biding her time. And at last, she had struck.

It had been like a delicate chain collar of ice settled around her throat, much like a the first string of diamonds presented as ornamentation for her to wear to her first soiree as a “woman,” when she finally woke up to the ring nestled in the middle of her vanity. She knew it was no rich gift, and no human hand had nestled it there atop her ornate lave vanity tray. No. It was from her. Michiru hadn’t wanted to touch it, so she left it there, hoping a maid would see it abandoned and pocket it, whisk it away.

But as the distance grew between her and that simple piece of silver, a teal oval its only setting, Michiru could feel it like a weight in the back of her mind. An itch she could only reach if she would just touch it, put it on. It tested her iron will for two days, then five, then a week. Eventually, her growing irritation made her wit sharp enough it stung, ever so slightly, her mother, who demanded Michiru put a stop to this ever colder temperament.

So finally, finally one evening, she picked it up. No maid was ever going to have had the audacity to steal even a trinket from a Kaioh. It felt like ice against her fingertips and then a weight far greater than its size in her palm. It was enough. The itch was scratched. For now. It needed only be close to her. She put it on a long ornate chain, so it could hide under her fine clothes without lending her outfits any drabness. And she seethed, resenting every moment it hung between her breasts. She hoped never to find out why it had come to her.

Her hopes were never meant to be realized. She knew that even then.

So it came as no surprise to her that upon hearing distant screams, a compulsion lanced through her so sharp, she staggered. The hidden ring blazed in her mind's eye, froze through the fabric keeping it from her chest, and burned so cold, Michiru's hand compulsively grabbed at it over the top of her layers. It tempered but pulsed against her palm, and she knew the only way to gain relief was to put it on.

Michiru could see through the wide windows that people were running through the courtyard in terror. She was meant to help those people. Save them. That was Neptune's destiny, and somehow taking the ring was an acceptance of that destiny for herself. Michiru wanted to tear it from her and throw it down. Their lives weren't worth hers.

She knew the ring wouldn't let her escape it though, and it's powers to distract clearly were far greater even than she'd experienced before.

Michiru understood inevitability. She was capable of walking away, but what was the point? Better to face what would come now than run and hide from something already slung around her neck.

In a smooth motion, Michiru retrieved the ring from its chain and didn't let herself stop to think or hesitate before slipping it on her finger.

The only expectation Michiru had in the moment her fate was met was some sort of possession. Neptune would attempt to exorcise her. She expected a fight for control, expected a presence in her mind, a loss of control.

She did not expect a flare of blue refracted light to flash alight below her, to hear waves crashing, whirling, rising up from that circle of blazing light. She threw her arm back as though she might be able to block what was happening. She hadn't expected an attack or waves or magic light. A single quiet scream escaped her lips as the waves burst in a column up around her, closing her in, closing in on her. It was as though they picked her up and whirled her around, their cool waves spreading like silk over her abdomen, her arms, her legs. She expected, for a moment, to feel her body shift, her bones move, for pain to break her and leave a space for Neptune. 

But when it was over, she was herself, only with a rip current of power under her flesh, in her veins. She lifted her hands to look at them, wondering if they would be a stranger's hands. They were covered in a fine white fabric, but the size and shape were familiar. She flexed her fingers and felt in the same way she knew to go from first finger on A to third on B that they had always and were still her own.

A not too distant howl of fury diverted Michiru's attention to the world around her, to the windows that faced the courtyard and the monster who had a target pinned to the ground, ready to strike.

Michiru had expected to feel like a captive once she embraced her fate, but in this moment, she felt power. Felt powerful. It had not resulted in possession. She had not been exorcised. And she could feel in this moment that she had been compelled as far as fate could push, for the moment. She could walk away from this moment, let the monster wreak unfettered havoc. But she wanted to feel this rush of power, see what the rushing in her veins could do.

So Michiru didn't run away that first time, only finally beginning to accept her fate now that it was, in fact, hers to choose.