I realize this story is about a universe relatively few people on the
list will have heard of.  In fact, this is, as far as I know, just about
the first Shoujo Kakumei Utena fanfic in English aside from some (rather
good) MUSH logs.  As such, I'm not expecting huge amounts of C&C, but I
would appreciate whatever people can give.  I've tried to write this in a
way to be accessable to even non-Utena fans, trying to avoid both
confusion and excessive spoilers, so even if you're not familiar with the
series, I'd appreciate it if you have the time to give it a try and tell
me if it worked.

     Thanks to my prereaders (Ten'jou Utena and Caroline L. of the Utena
ML; and Martha, Debbie and Abra elsewhere).  Thanks also to Elsa Bibat,
who posted a challenge to the FFML many months ago that inspired this fic.
Now that I'm done, I realize that the paragraphs I inserted from the
challenge don't flow quite right, and I'll probably be changing them
before I post this to rec.arts.anime.creative, but I wanted to leave them
in for the moment as tribute to the seed that inspired this.

     Shoujo Kakumei Utena and all characters therein are copyright Saitou
Chiho and BePapas.  No infringement to their rights is intended.

=====

...Sunawachi, Kiseki
(...In Other Words, Miracles)
A Tale of Shoujou Kakumei Utena
by Scott Johnson

=====

     My name is Arisugawa Juri, age 16.  I attend Ohtori Private Academy,
a prestigious school that encompasses all levels of education from
kindergarten to university.  I am the Student Council representative for
the high school first year class, and the undisputed captain of the
fencing team.  I am respected even among the faculty for my achievements
and those of the Council, and yet those who truly know me don't dare get
within ten meters of me.  I am a solitary individual.  I have seen secrets
and oddities few will ever see.  And I do not believe in miracles.
     I have seen many things others would call miracles, true.  The Castle
of Illusion, hanging inverted in the sky above the Arena.  The Bride of
the Rose releasing the Sword of Dios from her body.  A victory turned to
defeat by a falling blade, striking perfectly true by sheer luck.
Incredible, awe-inspiring sights, all of them.  But they are not truly
miracles, simply strange, or unlikely, or unexplained.  Miracles cannot
exist.
     That only makes me wonder more about that night, though.  Others
might dismiss it as good fortune, or a miracle, or some other name that
really means they don't understand.  I, however, cannot dismiss things so
lightly.  My mind continually strays back to try and glean some small
amount of reason from that encounter.  Why did I act as I did?  Why did
they?  Why?
 
     It was probably the moonlight. Moonlight, they say, affects people in
a weird way. Especially on a full moon. So that must be it.
     She was whining again beside me as we walked back home. I turned to
tell her to shut up. Then I stopped. The light from the full moon played
on her hair as she also stopped to look at me and continued her nagging. I
didn't
listen to her, all I could think about was how beautiful she looked in the
moonlight. I moved towards her. She waved a hand before my eyes.
    "Hellooo? Anyone home?" she asked as I moved towards her. Then I put
my hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer.
    "Hey! What are you mmmpphhh!" she said as I kissed her on the mouth.
 
     I do believe in love.  I was in love once.  Perhaps I still am.  But
my love left me without even knowing how I felt about her.  She left me
for a boy with a crush on me, which she thought I reciprocated.  She
actively stole him away, despite how much she thought it would hurt me.
Despite the fact that if I could, and if I thought it would make her
happy, I would gladly have given him away.  If she had but asked.  She was
my best friend, and more, and together with him we were an inseparable
trio -- but such love triangles cannot long survive, I suppose.  Perhaps I
still love her.  Perhaps I hate her for being so blind and selfish.  But
if I still love any, I love her alone. I know I do not love Tenjou Utena.
     Why, then?
     Perhaps it was simply her beauty.  The first time I saw her, watching
her duel with Miki from the top of one of the towers by the Arena, I was
struck by her vitality, her energy.  Dressed in a modified boy's uniform,
wielding the Sword of Dios as if she were born with it in her hand, she
seemed so utterly dazzling, so full of life.  Her pink hair flashed in the
light as she parried and struck, blue eyes narrowing as she searched for
an opening in Miki's defense.
     And yet even as I admired her through my opera glasses, I was picking
out flaws in her technique, inadequacies that could be used to defeat her.
Miki was good -- second only to me in the fencing club's rankings.  And
yet she clearly had him on the defensive.  She had defeated Saionji twice,
and for all his arrogance and foolishness he was still the captain of the
kendo team -- no light distinction at this school.  But I could defeat
him.  I could defeat Miki.  And I could most certainly defeat this new
girl, this Utena.
     And yet, when the time came, I lost.
     How?
 
     Utena was the one to break the kiss, backing away from me in surprise
as her eyes widened.  She seemed... shocked.  Uncertain. A bit disgusted?
Perhaps not -- perhaps simply uncomfortable.  I could hardly blame her --
I was feeling rather off-balance myself.  A thousand thoughts were reeling
through my mind - my shock at what I'd done, the shame of losing control
so, the taste of her lips, the fear of what she must think of me, the
stunned and beautiful look on her face, the horrified realization that
Anthy was watching us...
     Utena stepped back slightly, raising her hand to her face as she
looked at me with wide, unreadable eyes.  "Juri..." she breathed.  This
must have been so sudden to her -- even more than it had to me.  One
moment she was berating me for the little prank I had helped play on
Nanami (was it my fault the girl was so vain and stupid as to be unable to
tell a Sebastian Dior pendant from a cowbell?), and the next...
     I tried to brace myself for the inevitable explosion.  Now she had
seen both the sides of me that people feared or scorned -- the cruel,
heartless woman who doesn't believe in miracles, and the hopelessly
romantic lesbian, heart broken by her first love and never truly healed
again.  Despite all the rumors about her relationship with Himemiya Anthy,
or the hero-worship crushes half the female students her age had on her,
she was, in truth, not the type to reciprocate such feelings, or
appreciate having them forced upon her.  I knew that.  I had known that
almost since I first met her.  Which only left me wondering once again...
 
     Perhaps it was simply her personality -- who she was, at heart.  When
I first met her, in the corridors of Ohtori, the day after her duel with
Miki, I was struck with her unique brand of spirit and practicality.  She
had heard all the rumors (mostly true, I must admit) about my disposition,
and yet came to me as a friend, curious to see if I was as bad as my
reputation but not letting any prejudgments stand in her way.  She was
pragmatic and matter-of-fact about the duels, agreeing that fighting for
some 'miraculous power' and the virtual ownership of Anthy was a foolish
thing.  She was practical yet optimistic, fully cognizant of the ways of
the world and yet not allowing herself to be beaten by them.  In her
words, she didn't want to be a princess waiting to be rescued, but rather
a prince doing the rescuing.  I could most assuredly grow to respect
her... and perhaps, just perhaps, there was some small part of me that
wondered if that respect could grow into something more.  Perhaps it was
that small, foolish hope that seized control tonight.
     But in truth, she hardly lived up to the ideal I thought I saw in her
that day.  We met by chance that night, in the moonlight -- a full moon
then, too -- by the old fountain, a calming and beautiful place with its
still, clear waters and old statuary.  I had found myself unable to sleep
that night -- too many old memories haunted me.  She came across me by
accident -- it seems Anthy's strange pet had developed indigestion and
needed to be walked, or some such folly.  We fell to talking of this and
that, and at one point I inquired as to why she tended to wear boys'
clothing.  It was then that I learned just how much she still maintained a
childish belief in miracles.
     She remembered a man -- the proverbial 'prince on a white horse,' no
less -- who had comforted her when she was young and in pain, and still
dreamed that someday, by some miracle, he would return to her and make her
life perfect.  Even now, those virtues of hers I had so admired -- her
strength, her courage, her kindheartedness -- they were all born not of
some inner strength of character, but rather of a pathetic desire to
please her prince and mimic the parts of him she was infatuated with.  She
dressed after his fashion, wore his signet ring -- everything in her life
was an imitation of or appeal to her 'prince', some in ways she barely
realized.
     That was when I challenged her.  I suppose I felt betrayed in a way,
though it was only my own foolish hopes that had betrayed me.  But I was
furious -- with her, perhaps, or with myself, or simply over the fact that
someone with so much obvious talent and potential was crippling herself by
putting her faith in the impossible.  She devoted so much energy to making
herself what her prince would love -- and when her prince never came, she
would doubtless pine away, or be crushed all at once as the revelation hit
her.  All her strength, all her glorious potential -- all would vanish
with her childish ideals.  Someone had to save her from herself -- to show
her how foolish her belief in fantasy was.  That was why I challenged her.
     No, that's not true.  It's my rationalization, my self-justification
after the fact.  All of it is more or less accurate, but I was not
thinking like that at the time.  I only felt the fury of betrayal, and the
desire to break her faith in miracles, to show her the folly of her ways,
either to have her cast aside the signet ring her 'beloved' gave her or
see her humbled in the Arena as her 'miracles' failed her.  I cannot say I
am proud of it, but I have learned to live with myself.  I am in many ways
less than noble, however much I wish I were otherwise.
     And she beat me.  She was not better than me -- far from it.  Her
attacks were broadly telegraphed; her lunges laughably overextended.  I
barely needed to move to evade her and send her stumbling and sprawling
across the stone floor, over and over again.  The barest of simple attacks
had her scrambling to dodge my blade.  I could have removed her rose at
any time, ending the farce, but I must admit I was toying with her... up
until the end.  Then...
     I saw her bathed by a bright light, shining down beautifully from the
Castle of Illusion far above.  I saw her springing into one incredibly
fast, perfectly executed lunge, the Sword of Dios streaking unerringly
towards the rose at my breast.  And I remembered seeing her perform a
similar stroke the day before, defeating Miki in his moment of
distraction...
     (No.  No, I didn't.  I remembered *her*... her final letter to me...
'But I can't regret stealing him from you... because it was what I really
wished for, at heart.   You must hate me for being like this...'  And her
favorite phrase, so alien to me -- 'Believe in the miracle that your wish
will come true.'  And somehow, this time, it filled me with a rage I could
not stop...)
     The Sword of Dios went flying into the air as I parried almost more
quickly than I could think, and I caught Utena against me and threw her
roughly to the ground, letting her own momentum knock the wind out of her.
The tip of my sword was at her throat in a flash.  I smiled lightly, calm
again, seeing victory was well and truly within my grasp.  I could almost
taste my triumph, my smug vindication of my earlier harshness.  Perhaps I
made some light quip about her 'miracles' deserting her; I fail to recall
exactly.
     And then...
     And then...
     It wasn't a miracle, that much I can say with certainty.  While I
sincerely doubt it was pure chance, the Sword of Dios may have odd
qualities I know nothing of, or perhaps some form of strange link to
Anthy, the Bride of the Rose.  Unexplained and fortuitous, yes, even
surreal and awe-inspiring - but not a miracle.
     But the Sword of Dios fell from the arc my parry had thrown it into -
     - somehow remaining precisely vertical, leading with its point -
     - and it brushed past my face -
     - not even trimming a single hair -
     - and with a whisper - 
     - embedded itself in the stone floor of the arena -
     - pinning my rose -
     - pierced through its heart -
     - without a single petal disturbed -
     - to the ground.
 
     I still can't explain it.  I know it wasn't a miracle.  But that day,
I knew that whatever power had caused that, whatever the great power to
revolutionize the world for which we were all fighting was, it was
something I desperately wanted.  It was something mysterious and amazing,
something that I didn't understand.  But I had been told it could somehow
change the world.  I needed desperately to find out the truth of this.  If
it could not, better that I should have it than someone depending on it,
someone who truly believed, who would have their heart crushed.  And if it
could...  Perhaps with it, I could finally bring closure to my troubles,
to the things that so plagued my heart - one way or the other.
 
     "Juri..."  I couldn't bring myself to look at her face.  Any moment
now would come the fear, or the anger, or the disgust, or whatever form of
rejection she chose to display.  I had few friends, and Tenjou Utena was
certainly not one of them, but we had developed a form of mutual respect,
grudging as it was in some regards, and she had come to see me as one of
the more bearable among our little circle of Duelists -- not as close a
friend as Miki, but more reasonable than Touga or Saionji or (heavens
forfend) Nanami.  Now... doubtless that was over.  Now was the time for
rage, or scorn, or...
     Laughter?
     I looked at her - somewhat askance, I suppose.  She was laughing,
half-blushing, rubbing the back of her head self-consciously.  This...
this wasn't right.  *She* was embarrassed?  She was taking this so
lightly?  But...
     "Jeez, Juri, you caught me off guard there for a moment," she
hesitantly grinned.  "What the heck was that all about?"
     She didn't know?  Admittedly, *I* didn't know why I had done it, but
how could she have avoided jumping to an obvious conclusion?  Utena was by
no means stupid, despite her lackluster academic standing, and not
precisely naive, either.  For her to act like this... it was beyond words.
For what was perhaps the third time in my life, I found myself utterly
speechless.
     She must have thought she read something in my expression, I suppose,
because a look of bemused understanding suddenly came into her eyes.
"Jeez, is *that* all?"
     She turned back to walking down the street, stretching with her hands
behind her head.  "Honestly, Juri, if you wanted to shut me up, there's
easier ways.  I mean, I was getting kind of tired anyway."  She glanced
back at me apologetically.  "Sorry for going off on you like that.  I
guess I've been on edge a bit with all this weirdness, and after
everything that happened to Nanami..."  She shrugged.  "Anyway, I think
I'm gonna head for home now.  Himemiya, you coming?"
     "Of course, Utena-sama," Anthy said quietly as she followed along.
     They were taking it in stride.  As if it was nothing out of the
ordinary, nothing to be concerned with.  I could accept them not being too
upset, or even just curious, but this... this was...
     Anthy smiled at me as she walked past.  Just her usual pleasant,
friendly smile, without even a hint that she'd thought anything about me
kissing the girl who was at least her best friend.  No surprise, no worry,
no irritation, not even the arousal or envy the rumors might lead you to
expect.  I might as well have been discussing the weather.
     I watched them walk away into the night, as I stood there, still
speechless.
 
     I realize that my reaction may seem rather extreme.  Perhaps it's
simply a sign of how isolated I've been, that simple human kindess can
have such a profound effect on me.  Perhaps its existence is a sign that
the world is not in such dire straits as I might think -- or its scarcity
a sign that it is far worse.  Perhaps the two of them are simply wiser
than I know.
     Miracles don't exist.  That much I can say.  If you rely on the
workings of a mysterious and likely fictional 'other world' to save you,
you will one day find your miracles vanishing like the fantasy they are.
We are on our own in this world, and all we have is what we and those
around us can do.
     But when some of those people are like the two of them... Then
perhaps, just perhaps, we can create our own miracles.

-- 
Scott Johnson |
zagyg@io.com  |        This space intentionally left blank.