A Recuperative Christmas

Epilogue: A Befitting Judgement

Rakurai desu.

Let's call this chapter indulgence. The idea sparked in my head when I read everyone's comments about how they wanna see Naomi getting doomed.

This chapter is mostly about Michiru and her perspective. No HaruMichi here since I've already indulged in their moments more than enough chapters.

This chapter's picture is from https://www.stilltheluckyfew.com/tag/prison-bars/

Disclaimer: I wish I own Sailor Moon.

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"This way, please."

The police officer instructed as Michiru followed. The man, who appeared to be middle-aged with hairs greying around his temples, led her through a set of winding halls in the depths of the police station. They eventually reached what appeared to be an interrogation room.

The officer opened the grey door, allowing her access. Michiru was immediately met with Naomi's blank ruby orbs. Perceiving how the brunette was scrutinising her, Michiru was confident with how she presented herself. She was clad in a baby blue blouse adorned with a sailor collar, highlighted by a white ribbon drooping from the middle of her collar, and a creamy pencil skirt reaching above her knees. Finishing the set was Michiru's favourite pair of creamy heels with straps around the ankles.

Michiru was as breathtaking as ever.

Naomi, on the contrary, was in the sorriest of states. The brunette was dressed in a prison uniform: a light grey jumpsuit, its cuffs bunched up around Naomi's elbows, with an old pair of slip-ons for her feet. She was handcuffed, bound to the table in the center of the room by a slim metal chain.

Michiru fully stepped into the small room. Her eyes focused on Naomi for but a moment. Michiru's attention was instantly snatched away by the officer's flat, unemotional tone. "I'll be standing right outside."

The aqua-haired woman gave a slight nod before he closed the door. The officer gave a rough, loud clearing of his throat behind the grey door, hinting to the guest he expected absolutely no funny business. Michiru was unable to refrain from rolling her eyes at the officer's uncalled for behaviour; she had pulled many strings to be here, and she would act accordingly.

Michiru sat down on the chair opposite from Naomi, facing her.

For a long moment they sat there, saying nothing. Michiru quietly observed her, while Naomi had the gall to challenge her with a conceited stare—as if ironically unaware she was the one in chains.

"So," Naomi began, her tone strangely haughty. "How did you manage to get in here? Was it the same connection you used to keep me in chains for the rest of my life?"

"You could say that," Michiru's voice was even. Her expression composed. Her seated posture was straight and refined, and she exuded every bit of dignity.

"Come here to mock me?"

"It's a tempting thought," Michiru remarked, a slight lilt to her tone. Then she smiled. "Though I'm afraid I have to disappoint."

Naomi scowled, confused. "Then what are you here for, if not to laugh at me?"

"I'm only here to ponder a decision. Though I am grateful that you helped me arrive to my answer quickly." Michiru crossed her legs. Her mysterious smile grew by an inch. "Now I don't have to waste as much time with you."

The green-haired woman gave Naomi the most intense, judgemental stare she had ever seen in her entire life. Egotistical as she was, Naomi couldn't help but break out in cold sweat at the intensity of Michiru's eyes. It wasn't only her eyes that scared the brunette; Michiru's calculating smile was just as dangerous. Those features combined turned Michiru into a frightening, almost sadistic, woman.