Greetings! His lordship Chaos here. A small note should be made about the title of this fanfic: Boku No Michiru. When translated this means essentially "My [Dear] Michiru". When the word 'boku ' is used, it has a double meaning. One is that of possession (my or mine) and the other is a term of affection (dear, beloved, fair, etc.). The title itself is rather poignant in terms of the story. I should note one more thing implied by the usage of 'boku': it's masculine. Hence when someone says, "boku no...." it typically means the speaker is male. Typically. Anyone who's seen Sabre Marionette J has heard the very tomboyish Lime say, "Otaru! Boku du ai suki!" which implies she's very masculine. Well, this particular fanfic is set in the Sailor Moon universe. Hmmm, now which Senshi has an affection for Michiru and is very masculine in both attitude and appearance....? Ah, but I rant! Enjoy this small story set in Naoko Takeuchi's world. -His lordship Chaos (hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com) The morning begins as only a Saturday morning can: I wake up with a raging hangover from Friday night. Slowly I open my eyes, but only in narrow slits. The light is pounding against my brain with a surprisingly impressive force, and quite frankly it hurts. No, it doesn't just hurt. It *really* hurts. I groan and stir, eyes slowly adjusting to the barrage of light in the room. It takes about a minute or so before my pupils have adjusted enough to notice that the light itself is just trickling in between the venetian blinds. The ones directly across from the bed. If I didn't felt so ragged I'd probably have gotten around to wondering just where my curtains had disappeared to. Just what the hell had happened last night? From the murky depths of what's left of my mind I can pick out hazy noises of a party. Classical violin playing. A large sum of shot glasses of Sake I can't determine right now. Oh God...I didn't really throw up on someone's carpet, did I? Or did I just pass out? Although neither option is exactly something to look forward to, the latter was the most agreeable to whatever shreds are left of my reputation. Shit! Last night just had to be that one night I decided to get drunk for the first time in my life. My head feels like it's swimming inside my skull, throbbing against the bone like a raging tide. My stomach is ready to punch through my chest like an alien. And for some strange reason my jaw hurts like hell. Damn. Now is not the time to even be conscious. I close my eyes, roll onto my back and flop my arm across the bed. Strange. As far as I knew, I was single when I attended that private recital last night. So then if I walked into that party without a girlfriend...just who's hand was I touching now? Oh God. I didn't. Did I? My eyes are suddenly wide open. Unfortunately doing that causes me to swear through my teeth at the pain of seeing faint rays of sunlight. With a hand in front on my eyes to shield out the light, I roll over. First I look down at the slender hand leisurely draped on the edge of the bed, and follow it up to focus on a certain woman seated on a chair next to my bed. She's seated backwards on it, her one arm along the high back of the chair with her head resting on her elbow. She regards me with an amused grin as she sits there so elegantly. Withdrawing her hand from beneath mine, she tilts her head back and runs her fingers through her wavy blue-green hair. I know that hair. I know that face. And then the violin music from last night is placed. Suddenly my hangover becomes the least of my worries. Oh God. I did!! "M-Michiru?" I manage to stammer, my eyes widening. I wince, my jaw screaming out in pain. Just what the hell had I done to myself last night? All too quickly I realize I have to say something; she's got an expectant look on her face. And I in return babble something that might be coherent. "What are you...what is...oh shit, where the hell am I?" I look around. This is not my bedroom. Those are not my venetian blinds. I don't even venetian blinds. I can't afford venetian blinds! This whole room in fact is too elegant and refined and luxurious to be anything in my tastes or budget. This is all hers. On the side of the bed something is laying on the covers. I only figure out what it was when Michiru lightly tosses it into my hands. An icepack. Ah, I least I know how to handle that. Yes, then I can let the *real* pain begin. Get rid of that annoying little headache before I'm no doubt painfully dismembered by a certain sandy-blonde athletic...she was female, right? I am so dead. Michiru chuckles to herself before getting up and sauntering out from the bedroom. "I hope you enjoyed last night too," she says softly before closing the door behind her. The last traces of her blue skirt are the final nail into my coffin, and with a resounding clunk! the door seals my fate. I swear my heart has stopped beating in sheer terror. Haruka might be saved the pleasure or ripping it out from my ribcage while it's still moving. How in the hell could I have let this happen? How could she?! Somehow I don't think Haruka will listen either way. Well, she might...granted that's probably after she's strangled me. I am so VERY dead. Maybe I can somehow get enough sense of balance into my head and make a fast break for the window to escape. I am on the ground floor, right? Right? Oh, perhaps I should introduce myself. The name's Seiichiro. I'm Japanese, about five foot eleven, black hair, blue eyes, and about to get my ass kicked. Yep, that's me: the naked guy. And now I suppose you want to know just how it was I wound up in the bedroom of Kaioh Michiru, ne? In all honesty that's something I would like to know myself. Maybe we should start at the beginning of all this. The VERY beginning. That way I might be able to get over my hangover long enough to figure out how I can escape this place without Tenou Haruka making sure it's in multiple pieces. I should make a note here first: every now and again you get those stories which are composed of memories you want to treasures forever, the kind you want to bore your kids with. Well this sure as hell isn't one of them. BOKU NO MICHIRU by (Greenbeans?) & His Lordship Chaos [One week earlier....] Right now all that I really wanted was another cigarette. But instead I was seated at the desk and typing away yet another assignment on the computer. Since it was due tomorrow I had made certain not to wind up like my roommate. I glanced over as something stirred to life on the couch. A weary and bedraggled voice mumbled something incoherently. And the person sprawled out over the cushions lifted his head, narrowed eyes trying to focus. "Wha?" "Ah, kon'nichi wa," I remarked dryly, letting the sarcasm of the words sink into my roommate's mind--provided they weren't ricocheting around inside his skull. To remark "ohayo gozaimasu" was to imply that the time was early morning, before 10am. But as for "kon'nichi wa", that implied pretty much the afternoon hours. He groaned. "Damn, is it that late?" I nodded. "One fifty-two, Shogo. You're lucky today is Sunday, or else I'd be having to explain why you weren't at your classes...again. I'm running short on alibis for you, by the way." Shogo blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his hangover. "What the hell happened last night?" he asked. I shrugged indifferently, saving my document. "Oh, same old, same old. You got wonderfully tanked at the party, and I got a call around four this morning with a request to drag your sorry ass over here. Although I must admit I never knew how durable those grand pianos were until you started dancing on it." He groaned a second time. "Shimatta!" he lamented, rubbing his temples. "Man, if I left scuff marks that Tenou guy will have my ass." "After that private party you threw in the 'sacred' recital hall, would you blame him?" I replied, getting up from the chair and moving into the kitchenette. Our apartment was by no means large, since it was still technically on campus dorms. It made me grin to think of what choice words Haruka might have with Shogo if he ever found out about his tap-dancing. For weeks Shogo was telling me about this strange guy in one of his music classes: "I'm telling ya, he's good at the piano but he's one of the most aggressive, self-righteous bastards I've ever met." I pulled out an icepack from the freezer. "You want this, or should I just fetch the Tylenol as usual?" Truth be known I had been to Shogo's private party--but I had the presence of mind to leave both early and sober. If anyone had laughed at me then for being somewhat shrewd, they'd be ruing my laughter now. Shogo had been through too many of these identical situations to laugh at me. "I'm not sober enough yet to take this," Shogo muttered, stifling a yawn and rolling over. I was about to point out that he was rolling himself right off the couch, but he tumbled to the floor before I could make the remark. "Hai hai," I agreed, returning to the fridge to find something to drink. "Ne, Seiichrio." "What?" "I think I'm gonna puke." "Bakayairo! Not on the living room floor, you're not!" * * * Well, the afternoon ended with me printing off my latest assignment...and Shogo actually managing to walk straight and look presentable to the general public. Not that it really mattered; Shogo had become a campus legend by the first month thanks to his escapades. Shogo there was a musical prodigy--and a notorious party animal. Rumour has it he sat down one day when he was four and without any previous training began to play ditty he heard off of the radio on the piano. Like Shogo I was an Arts major, though while his remained in the realms of musical performance my talents were vested within the visual arts. Paintings, drawings, and the occasional sculpture. Though I must confess I do better in sketching someone's body than forming it with my hands. Even the nude models. Do sculptors who do nude pieces find the way they move their hands all over the sculpture's body find the experience erotic? I don't think I ever found painting someone nude erotic. For me I think I was too absorbed in the work itself to find the subject titillating. And just why was I thinking about this? Yare yare. "So, where are we going?" Shogo asked me as we stepped out of our dorms. "Just outside," I replied, gesturing to my lighter. I needed another cigarette. Yes, rant all you want about how unhealthy a habit it is but let's see how hot you look trying to survive a sudden nicotine drought. "You know those things will kill you," Shogo said with a lopsided grin. "About as easily as life does," I remarked dryly. Shogo rolled his eyes. "You know, you're pretty damned morbid for someone who's paintings celebrate the human body." "Bite me," I muttered under my breath as I fished out a pack of cigarettes from my inner jacket pocket. I pulled my lighter out from my pants, and drew a cigarette from the pack. The flame from the lighter took but a heartbeat to light the cigarette, and I in my cravings took a deep breath. Blowing the smoke into the air of the early evening, I felt a little relaxed as the nicotine kicked in. Sunset was still a few hours away but despite this the sky was coloured in a dazzling array of reds, oranges and blues. As if heaven had become a palette for someone to dip their brush into. And we were standing at the edge of a cluster of sakura trees, the cherry blossoms already pink and in bloom, washing across the area like rain. The sun's rays gave the falling petals all the more magical radiance. I suddenly found myself longing for a canvas more than a cigarette. And then there she was, strolling leisurely with a radiance all her own across the courtyards. She had on a billowing white blouse, and navy blue slacks this time. There was some kind of black choker around her collar, but I couldn't see what. I didn't care about such minute details either. All I was fixated on were her eyes. Incredible blue eyes that were not a bright colour like the sky, but a deep and dark blue that could rival the depths of the oceans. And her hair! Soft and flowing, an aqua-green that again reminded me so much of the oceans that managed to creep into many of my landscape paintings. Ever movement she made seemed deliberately planned, timed to perfection so that she moved with a sweeping elegance that I don't think I could ever master given a thousand years. There was little fault I could find in her at all. She was my muse, my goddess, my-- "Seiichiro," Shogo cut into my reverie, reaching out a hand and adeptly taking the cigarette that dangled from my open mouth. "Seiichiro, are you listening to a word I'm saying? Have you lost all control of your body or what?" "There she is," I sighed, leaning against one of the sakura trees. "Kaioh Michiru. Kuso! It kills me just thinking about her." "And it's killing me just hearing you whine about her," Shogo retorted. "Ask her out already, dammit." I snorted indignantly, stealing back my cigarette. I took a long drag almost forgetting to breathe out the smoke. "What?" Shogo said with an indifferent sigh. "So she's dating that Tenou guy. So they're deeply in love with each other and you don't stand a chance. So what if--" His oh so encouraging spiel was abruptly cut short as I flicked my cigarette at him. Shogo danced backwards and gave me an irritated look. I responded with a wolfish grin. "It's not like I was aiming for your eyes," I stated, pulling out another cigarette. "It hit your chest; what more do you want?" "For you to stop torturing yourself." Shogo leaned up against one of the sakura trees across from me. "Seiichiro, she outmatches and outclasses you. The day you get a date with Michiru will be the day I put on a dress and run around the campus." "You already did that last month," I retorted evenly. "Baka." "I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Shogo lamented. I shook my head, lighting the new cigarette. "Not until you graduate, my friend. Not until you graduate." I sighed and pocketed my cigarettes. As much as I despised admitting it, Shogo knew that he was exactly right. In a way I suppose I hated him for so tactlessly ruining my denial. Ever since I had first walked in on her studio while trying to find my own, I had been captivated by Michiru. So much allure and so much enigma. She was delicious to even think about, and I savoured every thought I pondered which included her. What was she like? What were her hobbies? Why did she paint what she painted? Was there a preference she had to wines? I wanted to know everything about Michiru. Every last secret. My wandering gaze stopped just in front of my face. The puff of smoke I had just blown into the air was still visible, moving like a swirling cloud. The cloud changed and became the obscure form of a person. The person began to dance in front of my face, moving back and forth and leaping around. I swallowed hard and swiped at the dancer with my free hand. The smoke was blown into every direction as my palm wiped the dancer out of existence. I rubbed my chin, and took another puff from the cigarette before snuffing it out with my hand. I winced slightly at the tinges of pain from my palm. But it was a necessary habit if one was to smoke outdoors where there were no ashtrays, and keep the scenery looking as beautiful as it was. Couldn't smoke indoors either; so this was it for me. I turned my head and caught the last trace of Michiru before she disappeared behind more trees and a gentle rainfall of cherry blossoms. "Kuso," I muttered. That restless feeling was stirring inside of me once again. Always whenever I was around her or saw her, even from a distance. Always the same restlessness. And I knew there was only one way to calm my nerves. "Ja," I said, nodding to Shogo before walking off. "Painting again?" "Hai." Shogo laughed and shook his head. "Yare yare, Seiichiro. Your creative genius really should pay better attention to your appointment book." Somehow I think Shogo knew why I would abruptly leave to paint at times. He also knew better than to poke me about it. As tactless as he was innumerous times, I appreciated him for that. A lot more than I think I ever let on. And even still, I think he knew about that too. * * * With quick, but controlled strokes, Seiichiro's brush glided over the canvas. He was on a roll now, the emotions flowing freely through him and onto the canvas. Satisfied with his work, he turned away to get some more paint for his palette. He accidentally turned into a nearby chair, causing the palette to press against his white tee shirt. "Shit," he muttered, setting the palette onto a nearby workbench. It was a good thing he kept a spare shirt in his supply locker. It was early Sunday afternoon. He was the only one in the studio. He preferred to work when no one else was around. People were only a distraction when he was trying to create. Standing in front of his locker, he pulled off his soiled shirt and tossed it in before grabbing the clean one. "Ara, did I catch you at a bad time?" A light voice asked from behind him. He stopped midway of pulling the shirt on. 'Michiru!' his mind screamed at him. "No, not at all," he finished pulling the shirt over his head. "I just had a little disagreement with my paints." "I didn't realize paint was such a temperamental substance," she chuckled lightly. He swallowed once before turning around to look at her. She was absolutely beautiful in the yellow spring dress she wore. Her hair was tied back by a red ribbon. His eyes traced the curve of her jaw, down her smooth neck, to follow the curve of her bosom. "I didn't realize one could look at an angel without going blind," he said softly. She blushed prettily before recovering her composure. "Thank you, Seiichiro-san." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. What can I help you with?" He cleared his throat before closing his locker and spinning the dial. "I wanted to know your opinion on a piece I've been working on for our assignment due next week. You have a wonderful eye for color." "Certainly," he smiled, "lead the way." He bowed to her slightly, then fell in line behind her. * * * [In Seiichiro's art studio. From here on it, it's really scattered with a lot of Cut N Paste jobs I have to do] It was eleven thirty-two into the night. My first class began Monday morning at nine-thirty. Studies in Classical Form and Design. I took a step back, and with arms crossed over my chest I stared at the painting. Maybe even scowled at it. I stopped, nearly choking on my cigarette. I let the smoke filter out through my nostrils and mouth as I gagged for breath. I fished the pack out from my pocket and offered a cigarette to him. The Captain slid the cigarette out and held it delicately in his hand. "I haven't had one of these in thirty years," he said, staring at the cigarette. "Well," I replied, taking out my lighter. "Welcome back to the good old days." I flicked my lighter on, letting the flame lit the tip of The Captain's cigarette. The Captain took one long drag, closing his eyes as he blew out the smoke. "Oh God, that's good." I smiled, putting my own cigarette in my mouth. I held up my lighter to the cigarette and lit it. I took a small puff, and looked at my lighter. The flame was moving around, creating the figure of the dancer. The dancer moved around, swaying and waving its arms. There had to be a better way to live than this. * * * [Probably the next day or the day after that] We had grabbed dinner at one of the nearby food courts instead of making it at our apartment. No real surprise there; it was Shogo's turn to cook, and as usual we ate out whenever that happened. Fortunately he'd pay. It was nearing sunset, but the weather was still nice enough to eat outside. Shogo made me walk ten minutes with our meals over to a small gazebo near one of the wooded areas. It was beautiful enough, I guess, but it had only one elegant table and a pair of equally elegant benches to sit on. And by the time we arrived one bench had already been taken. Shogo abruptly elbowed me in the ribs, causing my latest helping of rice to spill onto my shirt. "Seiichiro, check her out." "You and your damn hormones," I sighed, looking for a way to clean off my shirt without tipping my meal all over me. "And now it's another ten minutes to the nearest place to sit, plus I'm getting flower petals all over my sashimi." Maybe I should have insisted on making a meal after all. Abruptly Daniel grabbed my tray and with the grace and flair of a shameless flirter walked over the young woman already seated beneath the pavilion. With nothing left in my hands but air, I resignedly took out a cigarette and lit it. With a deep sigh and puff as the nicotine worked its way through my system I walked over to Shogo and his latest dating prospect. When I actually took the time to notice her, I was ready to kill him. Michiru was sitting there. Damn, was she...not cute, really, she appeared so much more mature, elegant, refined. One look from her eyes to mine, and I had a sudden urge to stamp out my cigarette. In front of her such an act seemed...well, it seemed rude. "Michiru." The new voice was familiar, and not exactly in pleasant tone. I inwardly winced. "Shimatta," I muttered. It was Tenou Haruka. "You...you've got breasts!" he exclaimed. I nearly sucked my cigarette right into the back of my throat upon hearing that. "And you've got balls saying something like that," Haruka replied evenly. "Care to leave this place with them still attached to the rest of you?" Shogo raised his hands as if to surrender, that stunned expression still etched onto his face as he slowly began to back away. * * * [Night of the recital. This is how Seiichiro winds up at Haruka & Michiru's place] "Seiichiro, what are you doing?!" Shogo hissed. "You've never had that much wine or Sake before in your life. And might I add now is not the best time to get drunk." "I don't care," I sighed, tilting my entire body back and downing the contents of the small ceramic cup. My cheeks were starting to feel warm, tingling. I kinda liked it. "Look at them together," I lamented, giving my most depressed puppy-dog look as he draped my head across Shogo's shoulder. "They look so happy. Why can't I get a babe like that?" "If you keep this up you never will after tonight," Shogo muttered. "No, I won't keep quiet!" I exclaimed, my voice raised loud enough to catch everyone's attention." I can't keep quiet any longer! How can I stop the beating of my heart when it pounds only for her!" The din of conversations in the recital hall came to a crashing halt, everyone now focused on the two of us. At least I assumed it was us. Shogo groaned. "Shimatta! Seiichiro, you do not want to be doing this." "What's all the noise about?" someone asked, stepping through the crowd. It was Haruka. Shogo gulped. "You *really* don't want to be doing this, Seiichiro." "I can't help it," I said, turning around to stare directly at him. Well...my body did any ways. The rest of my neck muscles seemed to have lost their tension so it took a few minutes for me head to stop jiggling around Shogo sighed, scratching his head. "There has got to be a better way stop this." Seconds later Haruka promptly delivered a hard punch to Seiichiro's face, sending him crashing into the piano. He absorbed the impact like he was a piece of gelatin and then bounced back. He managed to stay standing for a few seconds, his entire body wobbily swaying around before collapsing in a heap. "That works too," Shogo remarked. He looked over to Michiru and bowed deeply. "Honto ni gomen nasai, Kaioh-san. This is his first time getting involved in a drunken duel for love." "There was hardly any contest about it," Haruka muttered, rubbing her knuckles. She had said it in such a low tone that only Shogo had heard it; in reflection he was certain she had *wanted* him to hear that. * * * ^-^ Oh, so *that's* what happened. I really was an idiot, wasn't I? Daijobu; if I can admit this about myself then you people can admit that about me too. However...that still doesn't explain why I'm in Michiru's bed and my pants are not. [End of first part!]