A/N: Due to the interest in our favorite blonde's story, here it is. Initially, I wanted this to remain a one-shot; making this a single chapter that allows you, the reader, to sit there and draw your own conclusions as to what happened. My writing style is almost always 3rd person omniscient, which allows every characters thoughts and feelings be known, and I was attempting a new style by playing with 3rd person limited. However, after receiving ten reviews (and one PM) about the fact that Haruka's perspective was wanted and needed, I have decided to make this a "double-shot".
Thank you to all who reviewed Michiru's story, and I hope this helps clear a few things up.
Disclaimer: I will take no claim in owning Haruka or Michiru. As well as any references to the United States Army.
"Hey, Tenou!" A man's voice rang out over the usual craziness that was the mess tent, which caused a blonde woman looked up from a few tables over. She was dressed in her usual attire: a khaki shirt, a pair of digi-camo pants, and a pair of brown boots on her feet. She raised a brow at him.
"What is it, Johnson?" Her voice came out much harsher than she had intended it. The young man strode over to her, being nomore than 20, his face covered with the usual five o'clock shadow.
"Got a bundle of letters from the States, and the Lieutenant gave me the lovely task of passin' 'em out," he spoke in his thick Texas drawl, handing the blonde a letter that was tucked in a lavender colored envelope. Haruka took it from him without so much as a glance, one of the quieter and reserved ones in her unit. He shrugged off her attitude, mostly used to it at this point, and turned back to the group of guys he had been conversing with.
"Jackass," was all the blonde said about him as she looked to the letter, turning it over several times in her hand. The "To" address section was blank, only a return address at the top if she so chose to write back, which she wouldn't. She already knew she wouldn't. She hadn't written back to anyone since she got the letter from her parents; that letter had been a sad one indeed, telling her of her mother's leukemia. All in all, the letter had been succinct, which all of her father's letter were, telling her within three lines that her mother was slowly dying of the disease and had less than a year to live. The paper had crumpled easily in her shaking hand, her body quivering as it fought the hot tears that threatened to slip down her tan cheeks. She wouldn't cry! Not here…
That had to have been almost six months before this. Now, holding another letter in her hand from a "M. Kaiou", the blonde found herself falling back into that moment of time. She shoved the letter deep into her pocket, standing from the bench she had been sitting at, and walked into the hot desert sun.
"She's weird, don'tcha think, James?" One of the pilots spoke up as he thought she was out of hearing range.
"Very. But, in a war-zone, I'd rather have her on my side than any normal person…" She didn't hear the rest of his conversation; she had walked too far away, the sound of their gossip interrupted by the sound of tanks and hummers rolling by. She saw the small weight lifting area in the distance, at the other end of the compound. Haruka walked into it, nodding to the man she sat beside every mission, Sergeant Henderson.
"Hey Tenou. What'd you know?" He was a beast of a man, being nearly 6'5", and weighing in at near three hundred pounds of pure muscle. His khaki shirt stood out against the darkness of his skin, the sun gleaming from his bald head.
"Not much, Henderson. Like always." She gave him a grin, and sat down at the bench press, laying back to begin lifting the weights she had arranged.
"My wife had the baby yesterday," he said, clearly too excited to hold it in any longer. The blonde looked up at him, setting the bar back up. She sat up, a smile on her face, which was a rare sight.
"That's great Rick! Do you get to go home to visit her and…is it a boy or a girl?" She asked, the big burly man walking over to squat in front of her.
"A little girl. My wife wants to name her Ruka," he grinned up at the blonde, who was flabbergasted.
"Why?"
"Well, because if it wasn't for you, my baby wouldn't have a daddy."
"Rick, it wasn't that big of a deal–," she started to see, her friend cutting her off.
"If I say it was a big deal, it was a big deal," he clapped her on the shoulder, going back to the free weights. The blonde chuckled softly before standing to finish her workout.
-0-
To Whom It May Concern:
I'm not exactly sure why I am doing this, but here it goes. Let's start with the essentials: I am against the military in every way, shape, or form. I also believe this war to be a waste of our countries time. Now, to more pleasant things. My name is Michiru, and I am 17 years old. I play in my high schools orchestra, and I have an audition for Julliard in a month and a half. I don't think I have ever been so nervous in my life. My mom is worried about the cost, however, and she's unsure of how we're going to be able to pull it off if I am accepted. Oh, I play violin by the way. Do you play an instrument? Do they allow instruments in the army? What's your name? Where are you from? What are you doing over there? Why'd you join the military?
I don't expect you to write back, especially after what I said starting out. Stay safe, soldier.
Sincerely,
Michiru Kaiou
Haruka stared at the page, one eyebrow cocked. Then, she chuckled softly. This girl didn't waste any time, did she? Though the army brat found her to be brash and almost rude in the way she wrote her letter, she wrote her back, finding it almost unbelievable at how easily the words fell onto the paper. She ripped the sheet of yellow ledger from her notebook and addressed a plain envelope. Haruka cussed several times as she dropped it into the dust on her way to the mailbox, once accidentally stepping on it. She wiped it off the best she could before setting it in the small mailbox located in the center of the compound.
It was then she thought of it; the young girls name. It was distinctly Japanese, first and last, just like her own. She wondered if this Michiru had the same strange family makings as she had; a full blooded Japanese mother, and a half Japanese father. She turned on her heel and walked back towards the mess hall where they were watching several of the officers make a youtube video. She laughed as she heard "Bad Romance" on the speakers.
-0-
"Mail call ladies and germs!" A man yelled over the dull roar that was the mess tent, the officer standing on a table to get everyone's attention. The blonde didn't look up from her mashed potatoes as he called out the names of the soldiers who received mail. She didn't even look up when her own name was called, so unaccustomed was she to getting mail. "Tenou?" He called again.
"Hey, TENOU!," yelled a Hispanic soldier by the last name of Ramirez. Haruka looked back in time to see a small lavender box come flying her way, which she caught deftly. She heard the silly catcalls she always heard when one of the men got a trinket from a lady friend, but here's was from no lady friend, but a young high school girl she had wrote to once. She rolled her eyes and opened the box. A small velvet case fell onto the table as well as a piece of blue paper. She opened it and read the note Michiru had wrote.
Haruka,
That's a Japanese name, isn't it? My mother is from New York, whereas my dad is from Kyoto. Hence the Kaiou bit. Sadly, though, he passed away when I was little. He had a rare type of heart disease, which was only able to be cured by having a heart transplant. Oh, listen to me babble!
You're a helicopter pilot? I bet that's unbelievable. Someday, you'll have to tell me all about what it's like to fly. I've always wanted to, just, never have.
We're working on a piece called Blue Ridge Saga in orchestra right now. It's originally a concert band piece, but my composer has added the orchestration to it just for us. It's by Swearingen. Personally, I enjoy Bach, but that's my personal preference. Who's your favorite composer?
So, tell me more about you? About what you've seen? How old are you? Where did you spend most of your time growing up?
Stay safe,
Michiru
She smiled some at all the questions, feeling that desire to write the girl back once more. Haruka set the paper aside and opened the small black box, pulling out a second, smaller note written on orange paper this time, and a golden chain with a small pendant on it; the pendant being a Japanese symbol of some sort. The blonde frowned lightly, and opened the small note.
I bought you this. It's an ancient Japanese symbol for "protection". I hope it serves you well. –Michiru
Haruka smiled widely at the pendant, sliding it to fasten around her tanned neck, it finding a home right by the hem of her shirt, the chain mixing with the chain to her dog tags.
"Haruka?" Henderson sat next to her as she reread the letter again, carefully penning her reply. "Whatcha doin?"
"Writing a letter, stupid, what are you doing?"
"Finally get a lady friend?"
"Nah, she's just my friend. She wrote me about two months ago. You know how slow the mail is around this place," she grinned up at him, signing the letter she had written.
"Well, we're gonna take the choppers up for their usual test runs. Coming?" He stood. Haruka tucked the letters in the pockets of her uniform pants, touching the charm.
"Do I ever resist a flight?" She slid the outgoing letter in the mail box as they walked past.
-0-
"Haruka, you got another letter," Henderson said as he handed Haruka the lavender envelope. The blonde tore it open almost excitedly, smiling at the small picture Michiru had included of herself. The chopper pilot felt her breath catch in her throat at just how pretty the younger woman was. In the photo, Michiru was wearing a yellow sundress, holding her violin as she looked over her shoulder at the camera. The blonde set it aside, planning to tack it up beside her bunk, and turned to the letter.
Haruka,
Wow, it doesn't feel any different to be 18. I made it another year! That in itself is an amazing feat. How have you been? I watch the news almost daily now, almost dreading if I hear any mention of a helicopter getting shot down.
My dad gave me a great gift in my gene's. That lovely heart disease he had is slowly stealing my life away. I had a doctor's appointment today. Without a new heart, I have less than a year to live. It's kind of sad really, in a pathetic sort of way. I never had friends to worry about leaving behind, now I have you. I don't know about you, but you've come to be my friend. Each letter takes months to get to us…but, still…a friend. It's a strange concept for me.
Stay safe, soldier,
Michiru
Her mouth fell open in almost horror, her lips forming a perfect "o" of surprise. Who knew that such a young girl was knocking on heaven's door? The blonde's eyes suddenly went dark at the new knowledge. Her friend was dying, no…The girl she had come to love more than a friend, was dying.
She walked out of the briefing tent quickly and towards her barracks, where she pulled out a pad of paper, and wrote Michiru a return letter, which was rather short. The blonde also included a picture of her in her dress greens, a smirk on her features, her medals glinting on her chest. She tucked them both into the envelope she had waiting and picked up the small bracelet she had made by braiding strips of her old ACU pants, a brown clip holding it together. She set it into the envelope as well and sealed it, laying a light kiss on it before sending it.
"I'll never let anything happen to you, Michiru. I'll find you a heart somehow…" She whispered that night as she gazed at the picture of the young violinist.
-0-
Haruka,
I loved the bracelet, thank you! I've worn it every day since I got your letter. Also, you're very handsome. I bet you write to a lot of girls, don't you?
There's no hope for a donor. I'm way down on the waiting list right now, and I'm very sure I'm ready to go. I may be young, but I've done a lot. Julliard can wait until the next life time. The only thing I'll regret is never having got to meet you in person before dying.
I wanted to fly with you. I wanted to feel that weightlessness, the wind in my hair, like you described. Fly for me?
Also, I am so glad we're friends. Thank you.
Stay safe!
Michiru
Haruka read the letter she got, sadness gracing her usually handsome features. Her head shot up as the warning bell began to sound; an enemy attack was approaching. She ran beside Henderson towards the heli-pads, doing their flight suits as they sprinted. Both of them slid into the cockpit of the black whirly-birds, slamming black, full faced helmets onto their heads.
Within moments, and without a single word uttered, since they had done this time and time again beside each other, they were in the skies. The attack was coming in from the north, a small sea of tanks and foot soldiers. Haruka flicked the small black casing from around the fire button as she took aim, and fired.
"Good shot, Tenou!" Henderson's voice came over the radio, and she gave him thumbs up, firing another shot. This was how they operated during a battle: Henderson flying, the blonde firing. It was a good system, and they always won. Suddenly, an anti-aircraft missile flew through the air, crashing into the helicopter's tail, causing them to begin a downward spiral. "SHIT! Tenou!" was the only thing heard over the radio as the helicopter slammed into the dry desert floor. There was no explosion for the moment, and Henderson was unhurt. He pulled himself from the wreckage, and turned to look, frowning when he saw the front dash that surrounded Haruka crumpled over her lower half. His eyes were wide as he ran over, pulling her from the wreckage seconds before it exploded, sending them both flying back several feet.
-0-
"She's lost a lot of blood…and her lower half is completely crushed, Sergeant," the medic stated grimly, looking at the crumpled mass that was Haruka Tenou. Henderson frowned.
"Can she be saved?" His voice threatened to crack. He could remember the blonde pulling him from a burning hummer four months earlier. Had she not returned for him, he wouldn't be here today.
"Her chances are slim to none at this point, Sergeant. Her femoral artery was severed when you jerked her out of the wreckage," he wrapped her leg tighter. Rick bit his lip, looking at the blonde's battered face.
"Can you at least save her heart?" He asked quietly after taking a few moments to think. The doctor who had walked into the tent looked at him, as did the medic.
"Why?"
"Her penpal…she needs a heart. If Haruka can't be saved, at the very least, save that girl. It's what Haruka would want," his voice was stern, and commanding. The doctor looked at the medic, and back to the blonde, whos pulse was fading fast.
"What's this girls name? I'll call her doctor and let him know what is going on," the doctor said. Henderson held up a finger for him to pause a moment and ran to where Haruka's bunk was, retrieving the bundle of letters. He handed them to the doctor when he returned.
"Michiru Kaiou. She's in a hospital in Washington, D.C."
"Alright. You sure this is what Sergeant Tenou would have wanted?"
"I'm sure."
"Do you want to write a note to the girl telling her what happened?"
"Haruka would have wanted her heroics to be anonymous," he whispered, leaving the tent without a backwards glance. The doctor pulled out his cell phone, and after several minutes, got a hold of the hospital in Washington D.C. that had a patient by the name of Michiru Kaiou.
-0-
Henderson walked through the endless rows of fallen soldiers, each of them having a white headstone in the Arlington cemetery. He stopped, seeing a young woman with aqua hair stooping to put a red rose on his fallen friends grave. He strode up, holding his baby girl close, wanting her to meet her name sake.
"You must be Michiru…" He said quietly, still causing the woman to jump.
"Who…"
"I'm Sergeant Henderson, I was Haruka's partner," he smiled sadly, little baby Ruka fussing some.
"Oh, it's nice to meet you," her voice shook slightly, turning back to the headstone. She sighed after a moment, holding her chest, where he knew Haruka's heart pumped inside of her. He cooed to the baby girl in his arms before stepping up.
"Ruka…I want you to meet Haruka. She saved your daddy's life. She also saved Miss Michiru's life…" He said, talking in baby talk. Michiru turned to him.
"She saved your life too?"
"She was an amazing person, through and through," he smiled, laying a medal on Haruka's grave: The Medal of Honor.