HxM Femslash Febrary Day - 24: Childhood Friends
“There!” Haruka sat back on her heels. “Done!”
Michiru looked up from the sidewalk, giggling at her friend. How Haruka always managed to get chalk everywhere would always be a mystery to her.
“You finished coloring your shirt?” she teased. Haruka frowned, confused before taking a look down her front. The Red PowerRanger was looking a little more yellow and pink than he did before she had started.
“Aw…” she pouted, blowing out her cheeks. “My aunt’s gunna kill me.” Haruka’s eyebrows knit together tightly for a moment before she gave a shrug. She wiped the back of her hand against her chin, a new streak of blue following in its wake. “I drew you a picture though!”
Michiru tried not to smile too hard. Young ladies did not grin like loons, Mama always said. But then again, most young ladies did not have best friends who painted themselves with chalk.
Haruka hopped over a bit, making room for Michiru to better see her handiwork. She pointed at the two figures before them. “That one’s me and that one’s you, see?” We’re superheroes.“
Michiru nodded. It most certainly was her. The mass of blue surrounding the figure’s head didn’t allow room for it to be anyone else.
"Don’t superheroes have better hair?”
Haruka shrugged. “I like your hair,” she mumbled but rubbed away half the halo of blue. “But yeah, see, we’re superheroes and - ”
“You’re wearing a skirt!”
Haruka’s ears went pink and Michiru frowned apologetically. Young ladies weren’t supposed to interrupt others, either. Mama would be disappointed.
Haruka gave a little cough, scratching a new trail of white against her nose. “I-it’s the uniform,” she insisted. “There’re others too! I just… didn’t draw them.”
Michiru nodded. “Well, I like it.” She leaned her head against Haruka’s shoulder and could practically feel her friend beaming at her words. “Do we have any powers?”
Haruka launched into a detailed report, complete with pictures, adding in other new characters every so often. Michiru listened attentively, enjoying the new layers of chalk on Haruka’s fingers and now on her own dress. Young ladies didn’t get their dresses dirty. But she hardly thought it mattered.