Sailor Moon: Daddy's Girl (Haruka)
Jun. 25th, 2008 09:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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lexiewritesTitle: Daddy's Girl
Author: Lexie
Feedback: If you feel so moved.
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sm_monthly Prompt: Pre-Series - Daddy's Girl.
Word Count: 1 057
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Summary: Where had his sunny little girl gone? Why had she been replaced with this sullen teenager? What had changed so much that she had become this unhappy?
Notes: I'm not sure I'm any good at writing pre-series back stories, but I do like writing Haruka's dynamic with her father - it feels like Haruka's father is always the bad guy in fics, and I like writing him as a good guy ^_^
I hate the title, but it was the one I hated the least.
Disclaimer: The characters of Michiru and Haruka belong to Toei, Bandai and Naoko Takeuchi. I make no profit from this fan-based venture.
There were seventy six glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her bedroom ceiling, spiraling out from the centre. She stared up at them from where she lay on her bed; her sock-clad feet resting on her pillow.
She looked solemn, staring up at the ceiling; waiting for the inevitable parental lecture about how to behave, how rude and crass she was.
A gentle knock at the door. She didn’t move.
“Hey kiddo. Can I come in?”
Juri Tenoh stood in the doorway, studying his eldest daughter, lying haphazardly across her bed. She didn’t turn around or acknowledge his presence, just tilted her head forward in what he chose to read as permission to enter.
The small yellow room had been his wife’s sewing room before Haruka had insisted upon moving out of the room she had shared with her sisters; at eleven, Haruka had declared she was sick of the dolls and ruffles, karaoke and dress-ups that her younger sisters were so enamored with.
His wife was equally as stubborn as Haruka, and had refused to relinquish her rarely-use sewing room. Six nights of Haruka camping out on the couch had broken Noriko’s resolve. Somehow, with the narrow bed, the desk and bookshelf crammed in instead of the sewing machine and trestle table, the room looked infinitely bigger.
Juri pulled out the desk chair and sat down; the desk was a mess of school books and half-chewed biros. Her school bag lay open on the floor, more books spilling onto the floor.
“Sometimes I hate her so much.”
Juri looked up. Haruka’s words were laced with bitterness; bitterness that Juri couldn’t imagine a thirteen-year-old knowing. Haruka looked unhappy as she rolled over to face her father, curling her knees to her chest.
“Don’t say things like that about your mother,” he automatically replied sternly. Ever since Haruka was small, she had clashed violently with her very traditional mother – and Noriko already had two sons, she had hoped Haruka would be a doll-like daughter for her to dress up and coach in the lady-like arts.
“She hates me.” Haruka’s words were very matter of fact, despite the unhappy look on her face.
“No, she doesn’t. She loves you so much,” Juri began but Haruka shook her head.
“If she didn’t hate me why does she keep making me do things I hate?” The even tone had now given away to that of pure misery.
“She just wants you to try new things,” Juri prompted.
“Then why aren’t I allowed to go with Rafu to the BMX track?” Haruka looked up. “Why aren’t I allowed to play soccer? Why did she make me go to a dance class? I felt stupid.”
Juri looked at his eldest daughter. He’d heard all about that afternoon’s ‘disaster’, as Noriko had put it. Tani had been in the kitchen as Noriko had ranted, adding little details that made Noriko even angrier. Noriko had dragged Haruka kicking and screaming to a ballroom dancing class that Tani and Akina had been going to for several weeks. Not even half way through the class, Haruka had punched her dance partner in the face and stormed out.
“Why did you feel stupid?” Juri asked gently. Haruka made a face.
“I had to wear that blue dress that Grandma sent last Christmas, and it was too short and too tight, and the shoes pinched, and all the hairpins were jabbing me in the head…” Haruka trailed off. “And everyone kept telling Tani how beautiful and sweet she was, and how cute Akina was, and nothing to me, like they agreed I looked stupid!”
“Well, I’ll tell your mother than your clothes were bothering you,” Juri said. “But you punched a boy, Haruka. Nice girls don’t punch their dancing partners. I thought we were done with the fighting.”
“I didn’t punch him because I looked stupid.”
“Why did you punch him?”
“Why does it matter? You always said that there was no good reason for hitting someone.”
“Well,” Juri looked at his oldest daughter – growing up faster than he ever imagined. For a minute, she was her child-self - Haruka, with her pigtails and mud-splattered overalls, all sunny smiles and begging to be taken to the park, or for him to play softball with her for just a little while. Haruka, who had always kept up with her brothers, even if it had meant a broken arm from falling out of a tree, or taking the blame for a tennis ball going through a neighbor’s front window.
Where had his sunny little girl gone? Why had she been replaced with this sullen teenager? What had changed so much that she had become this unhappy?
“Don’t tell your mother, but sometimes it is okay for a girl to hit a boy,” Juri said slowly. Haruka’s frown deepened.
“But it’s not okay for a boy to hit a girl?”
“That is never okay,” Juri said. “Did your dance partner try to hit you?”
Haruka shook her head. “No. He tried…” She looked embarrassed now, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Ah.” Juri looked down at the floor. “Did you tell your mother what happened?”
Haruka snorted. “You think she stopped yelling and lecturing me long enough to listen to the why? She thinks I hit him because I was bored.” She looked thoughtful for a minute. “I wish he’d hit me back. Then I could have pounded him into the floor.”
Juri blinked. That was not the sort of statement he expected from his little girl. From one of her brothers, maybe, but Haruka?
“I’ll talk to your mother. If we get you some new dancing clothes and next time your brothers and I go to the BMX track we take you, will you go to one dance class without any complaints?” he offered.
Haruka blinked. “No punishment?”
“Washing up duty for two weeks – you need to learn to use words before violence, Haruka. But I understand why you hit the boy. Do you agree one BMX trip for one dance class?”
Haruka smiled; a self-satisfied smirk Juri had learnt to fear. “I’m not allowed to go back to the dancing school anymore. The boy was the teacher’s son.”
Juri started to laugh, and pulled Haruka into a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair. She was still there, his happy, funny girl who used to beg him for piggybacks so she could reach out to the clouds, hidden away behind this awkward, sullen adolescence.
He just had to work out how to get her out again.
Author: Lexie
Feedback: If you feel so moved.
sm_monthly Prompt: Pre-Series - Daddy's Girl.Word Count: 1 057
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Summary: Where had his sunny little girl gone? Why had she been replaced with this sullen teenager? What had changed so much that she had become this unhappy?
Notes: I'm not sure I'm any good at writing pre-series back stories, but I do like writing Haruka's dynamic with her father - it feels like Haruka's father is always the bad guy in fics, and I like writing him as a good guy ^_^
I hate the title, but it was the one I hated the least.
Disclaimer: The characters of Michiru and Haruka belong to Toei, Bandai and Naoko Takeuchi. I make no profit from this fan-based venture.
There were seventy six glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her bedroom ceiling, spiraling out from the centre. She stared up at them from where she lay on her bed; her sock-clad feet resting on her pillow.
She looked solemn, staring up at the ceiling; waiting for the inevitable parental lecture about how to behave, how rude and crass she was.
A gentle knock at the door. She didn’t move.
“Hey kiddo. Can I come in?”
Juri Tenoh stood in the doorway, studying his eldest daughter, lying haphazardly across her bed. She didn’t turn around or acknowledge his presence, just tilted her head forward in what he chose to read as permission to enter.
The small yellow room had been his wife’s sewing room before Haruka had insisted upon moving out of the room she had shared with her sisters; at eleven, Haruka had declared she was sick of the dolls and ruffles, karaoke and dress-ups that her younger sisters were so enamored with.
His wife was equally as stubborn as Haruka, and had refused to relinquish her rarely-use sewing room. Six nights of Haruka camping out on the couch had broken Noriko’s resolve. Somehow, with the narrow bed, the desk and bookshelf crammed in instead of the sewing machine and trestle table, the room looked infinitely bigger.
Juri pulled out the desk chair and sat down; the desk was a mess of school books and half-chewed biros. Her school bag lay open on the floor, more books spilling onto the floor.
“Sometimes I hate her so much.”
Juri looked up. Haruka’s words were laced with bitterness; bitterness that Juri couldn’t imagine a thirteen-year-old knowing. Haruka looked unhappy as she rolled over to face her father, curling her knees to her chest.
“Don’t say things like that about your mother,” he automatically replied sternly. Ever since Haruka was small, she had clashed violently with her very traditional mother – and Noriko already had two sons, she had hoped Haruka would be a doll-like daughter for her to dress up and coach in the lady-like arts.
“She hates me.” Haruka’s words were very matter of fact, despite the unhappy look on her face.
“No, she doesn’t. She loves you so much,” Juri began but Haruka shook her head.
“If she didn’t hate me why does she keep making me do things I hate?” The even tone had now given away to that of pure misery.
“She just wants you to try new things,” Juri prompted.
“Then why aren’t I allowed to go with Rafu to the BMX track?” Haruka looked up. “Why aren’t I allowed to play soccer? Why did she make me go to a dance class? I felt stupid.”
Juri looked at his eldest daughter. He’d heard all about that afternoon’s ‘disaster’, as Noriko had put it. Tani had been in the kitchen as Noriko had ranted, adding little details that made Noriko even angrier. Noriko had dragged Haruka kicking and screaming to a ballroom dancing class that Tani and Akina had been going to for several weeks. Not even half way through the class, Haruka had punched her dance partner in the face and stormed out.
“Why did you feel stupid?” Juri asked gently. Haruka made a face.
“I had to wear that blue dress that Grandma sent last Christmas, and it was too short and too tight, and the shoes pinched, and all the hairpins were jabbing me in the head…” Haruka trailed off. “And everyone kept telling Tani how beautiful and sweet she was, and how cute Akina was, and nothing to me, like they agreed I looked stupid!”
“Well, I’ll tell your mother than your clothes were bothering you,” Juri said. “But you punched a boy, Haruka. Nice girls don’t punch their dancing partners. I thought we were done with the fighting.”
“I didn’t punch him because I looked stupid.”
“Why did you punch him?”
“Why does it matter? You always said that there was no good reason for hitting someone.”
“Well,” Juri looked at his oldest daughter – growing up faster than he ever imagined. For a minute, she was her child-self - Haruka, with her pigtails and mud-splattered overalls, all sunny smiles and begging to be taken to the park, or for him to play softball with her for just a little while. Haruka, who had always kept up with her brothers, even if it had meant a broken arm from falling out of a tree, or taking the blame for a tennis ball going through a neighbor’s front window.
Where had his sunny little girl gone? Why had she been replaced with this sullen teenager? What had changed so much that she had become this unhappy?
“Don’t tell your mother, but sometimes it is okay for a girl to hit a boy,” Juri said slowly. Haruka’s frown deepened.
“But it’s not okay for a boy to hit a girl?”
“That is never okay,” Juri said. “Did your dance partner try to hit you?”
Haruka shook her head. “No. He tried…” She looked embarrassed now, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Ah.” Juri looked down at the floor. “Did you tell your mother what happened?”
Haruka snorted. “You think she stopped yelling and lecturing me long enough to listen to the why? She thinks I hit him because I was bored.” She looked thoughtful for a minute. “I wish he’d hit me back. Then I could have pounded him into the floor.”
Juri blinked. That was not the sort of statement he expected from his little girl. From one of her brothers, maybe, but Haruka?
“I’ll talk to your mother. If we get you some new dancing clothes and next time your brothers and I go to the BMX track we take you, will you go to one dance class without any complaints?” he offered.
Haruka blinked. “No punishment?”
“Washing up duty for two weeks – you need to learn to use words before violence, Haruka. But I understand why you hit the boy. Do you agree one BMX trip for one dance class?”
Haruka smiled; a self-satisfied smirk Juri had learnt to fear. “I’m not allowed to go back to the dancing school anymore. The boy was the teacher’s son.”
Juri started to laugh, and pulled Haruka into a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair. She was still there, his happy, funny girl who used to beg him for piggybacks so she could reach out to the clouds, hidden away behind this awkward, sullen adolescence.
He just had to work out how to get her out again.
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Date: 2008-06-25 03:28 pm (UTC)