Shoujo Kakumei Utena
FUGUE
by
Alan Harnum
Utena and its characters belongs to Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito,
Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai and TV Tokyo.
E-mail : harnums@thekeep.org
Homepage: http://www.thekeep.org/~mike/transp.html
* * *
THREE
* * *
So the princess fled from her castle and her brother, and sought
sanctuary with the nobles of the court. But their own houses
were in turmoil, and she could not abide long with them.
At last, she begged a bed for the night of the youngest lord
of the court, who had long been enamoured of her. Had she taken
refuge with him, her history might have been a different one--but
such was not to be, for then came a prince to her, and he said,
My palace is ever open to you, as it is to all damsels in
distress.
What happened next is well-known, for the princess came to
discover the what darkness dwelt in the shadows of the prince's
bright castle. Some say that her horror was great as it was
because what she saw reflected the darker desires of her own
heart. But some say otherwise, and none can know the truth.
There was another princess, one who wished to be a prince,
and the two princesses were adversaries. Some might call them
opposites, for one was cruel were the other was kind, one was
magnanimous where the other was selfish, one was petty where the
other was forgiving. But things are never so simple as that, and
some might say that the two of them were in truth more alike than
any other two ladies of the court.
At the end of the day, there was a victor and a defeated,
for that was all the rules of the game could allow. The victor
went on, and her story is well enough known.
The defeated, perhaps, returned docilely to her castle and
to her brother, though due to cruel deception and cruel acts she
believed him no longer her brother at all. There she calmly
waited out her days until it had come time for the ending of the
story. And, with the other lords and ladies, she said her pretty
ending speeches and took her bows and then she went off to take
on another role after the curtain had fallen.
Or perhaps it was not so simple as that.
* * *
FOUR
* * *
His first inclination was to say no. He tended to go with first
inclinations.
"No."
"Please?"
"No." He began to close the door.
"Kyouichi, I've got nowhere else to go."
He paused. He didn't get called by his first name very
often, which suited him fine; there were few who had the right to
address him with such familiarity. He supposed that Nanami
technically did, given how long she'd known him.
But he didn't have to like it, and he didn't have to care.
"Go home, Nanami. I want nothing to do with you, or with your
brother, or with whatever troubles you're having." He started
again to close the door.
"He's not my brother!" She put her arm against the
doorframe so that he couldn't close the door without crushing it.
"Kyouichi, please."
"Move your arm," he said coldly. What the hell did she
mean Touga wasn't her brother? Stupidest thing he ever heard.
Another one of her childish delusions over some misunderstanding.
"Please!"
He heard the downstairs door open; footsteps, voices. Shit,
he thought, I don't need this. Damn Touga. Damn Nanami.
"Look, beyond the fact that I don't care, how do you think
it's going to look if I have you staying here? First of all,
it's against school regulations; second of all, think of the
rumours; third, again, I don't care about you or your troubles.
Now move your damn arm so I can close the door."
"Do you really hate me so much?" Nanami half-whispered, eyes
shimmering as though she were about to burst into tears.
Probably was; he didn't doubt that Nanami could cry at will.
He regarded her with blank dismissal. "It's not that I hate
you. I merely don't care. There's a great difference between
active dislike and apathy. Look, go home to your brother; I've
no interest in getting involved with this."
"I told you, he's not my brother," she muttered.
"Don't be stupid!" he snapped. "Of course he's your
brother. I don't know how the hell you get these notions into
your head, but--"
"He told me the truth. We're not blood relations."
Slowly, Saionji Kyouichi blinked. Then he opened the door
with an inward sigh of resignation. "Look, just come in. It
will be easier for me to point out your idiocy to you that way."
"Thank you." She sounded absurdly grateful.
He led her towards the small kitchen of his suite. "I heard
all the rumours over the last few days; that you'd run away from
home, had some kind of fight with your brother."
"Oh."
He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. "Sit down."
She sat. "Did you believe them?"
"Believe what?"
"The rumours."
He shrugged as her opened a cupboard. "I didn't care enough
to decide whether I believed them or not. I suspect it was all
just part of whatever game your manipulative bastard of a brother
is running with the Trustee Chairman."
"How long have you known about that?" Her voice was soft,
but tight like a spring.
"Since the day I first returned to the Council after my...
absence." He pulled down a small tin and put it down on the
table. "I baked cookies yesterday. If you wish, you may have
one." He gestured at the tin.
Nanami just stared at him.
"You've known for that long about what my brother was up to,
about the identity of the Ends of the World, and... and... you
didn't _tell_ us?"
He looked at her flatly. "Why should I have? It's no
concern of mine if you or Miki or Juri go blundering about making
fools of yourselves. And, really, do you think any of you could
have avoided your part in these rituals even if I had told you?"
"I hate you!" she screeched; she was out of her chair and
pummelling him about the head and chest and shoulders before he
even had time to blink. "You... you... you jerk! Damn it, if
you'd just told us..."
"Ow! Stop it!" He put up his arms and managed to take most
of the hits upon them, but she slipped one little fist through
and nailed him hard in the ribcage, robbing him of breath.
"Nanami," he gasped, "stop it, you crazy little bitch!"
"Jerk!" She began to hammer against him as though against a
locked door. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"
Pitched so high, her voice grated on his ears like a file. And
despite her small stature, the punches were hard, and hurt.
Fed up, he grabbed her wrists and yanked her arms out to the
sides, not with enough force to really hurt her. He twisted his
body in time to catch the knee aimed at his groin against his
hip, and roared "Stop it!" once again.
For a moment, she struggled, and he actually found it hard
to keep a grip on her wrists; then, the almost daemonic strength
left her body, and she practically collapsed against him, letting
out a seemingly heartfelt wail of anguish.
He realized she was crying, had been for some time. Damn
it, he so did not need this. He really _didn't_ care; even when
she was just a little kid, Nanami had been annoying as hell,
clamouring for Touga's attention whenever she was around and
sulking if she didn't get it immediately. They'd always had to
sneak off to do things by themselves to make sure she wouldn't
try and tag along, and when they got back, Nanami would come
running up, and it would be nothing but Oh big brother where did
you go, I thought you left me forever, and Don't worry, Nanami, I
wouldn't do that to my little sister, until Nanami was satisfied
that her big brother loved her and nobody but her, and then
_maybe_, just maybe, she'd leave them alone for a while.
He let her wrists go, and was shocked to find her arms wrap
around his bruised ribcage, as she continued to sob pitifully
against his chest.
"Nanami, get off me," he said. "Stop crying. Damn it, stop
crying and pull yourself together. You're acting like a child."
In response, her sobbing doubled. She clung to him as
though he were all that was keeping her upright. Perhaps he was;
it wasn't a role he cared for. He didn't like relying upon other
people, or having them rely upon him, for anything.
He didn't have any idea how to deal with an upset woman.
Anthy had never cried. What a God-damn mess, he thought. Maybe
if he just let her go on for a while, she'd stop. He should
never have let her come in in the first place. More than that;
he should never have even opened the door.
Damn Touga. This was all his fault, somehow. Telling
Nanami they weren't related by blood or something. He didn't
believe it for a second. And even if it was true, he didn't get
why it was such a big deal to Nanami; she'd lived like she was
his sister for thirteen damn years, so what did it matter if she
was a blood relative or not? Some people cared about the
stupidest things.
Damn it, when was she going to stop crying? What did she
expect him to do? Give her a kiss and say everything was going
to be fine, like he'd seen Touga do when she'd skinned her knee
trying to ride his bike? Who the hell did she think he was,
expecting him of all people to give her comfort? Who did she
think she was, imposing upon him like this?
Very awkwardly and uncertainly, he squeezed her shoulder.
"Look, stop crying, okay? Crying never did anybody any good."
Nanami raised her head and looked up at him. She looked
horrible: red-faced, bleary-eyed, runny-nosed. The effect was
almost comical, particularly when she was usually so elegant.
"You're _smiling_!" she shrieked. He hadn't realized he
was. "How can you be so insensitive?"
"I'm sorry," he said. It came out quite insincere.
"It's only that you don't look very pretty when you're crying."
She just stared at him for a moment, then shoved away from
him, scowling and wiping fiercely at her eyes with the back of
her hand.
"I hate you," she muttered.
"Yeah, whatever." He shrugged and leaned back heavily
against the counter, folding his arms and trying to look casual,
despite the fact that his ribs really did hurt. "Are you quite
finished?"
"How can you treat me like this when we practically grew up
together?"
He frowned; the words were like a whiny echo of Touga, in
their attempt to win him over by appealing to sentiments forged
in youth that he no longer wished to hold. "Because I don't like
you very much, Nanami. You play cute and innocent, but you're
actually mean as a snake and twice as cunning, and you don't
really care about anyone except yourself." He paused, reflecting
for a moment on his own words as Nanami stared open-mouthed at
him; he wondered if anyone had ever bothered to tell her what
they really thought of her to her face. Perhaps it was past time
somebody did. "And you remind me too much of your brother."
"Don't compare me to him," she snapped. "And he's not my
brother. Haven't you been listening to anything thing I've been
saying?"
"Yeah, and I don't believe any of it," he replied. "You're
stupid if you believe you're not blood relations just because
Touga says so. Did you think to ask your mother or father?"
Her silence was answer enough. He shook his head in
disgust. "As I thought. You just blindly took his word for it.
Haven't you realized by now that Touga's a deceptive bastard?"
Nanami flinched; then, to his mild surprise, she smirked at
him. "Don't you sound clever? Like you're the only one who
knows what's really going on. But you know less than you think
you do," she hissed. "You're just like Miki; so in love with the
Rose Bride that you're blind to what she really is. She and her
brother..."
"I don't," he said icily, "have any desire to talk about
Anthy with you."
"Oh?" Nanami smirked at him. "So, you get to lecture me,
but I don't get to lecture you?"
He smirked right back. "Nanami, the day I show up on _your_
doorstep asking to stay with you, feel free to lecture me all you
want." He ran his eyes over her. "Go to the bathroom and clean
yourself up, if you want; you look horrible."
She turned away from him without a word, walked to the
kitchen doorway, then looked back over her shoulder. "I really
do hate you, you know. You were my last resort. I forgot just
how much of a cruel jerk you are."
He shrugged. "Sorry I'm not one to allow myself to be
manipulated by sentiment. Your problems are none of my concern."
Nanami gave him a withering scowl, and stomped off.
When she returned, he was making tea, and had opened the
cookie tin. "Go on, have one." He gestured at the neatly-
arranged rows of cookies in the tin. "They've got macadamia
nuts."
"I hate macadamia nuts," Nanami muttered. But she sat down
and ate one anyway, slowly.
"Feel better now?" he asked, as he watched for signs of
steam from the kettle. "I've heard tell that a good cry makes
you feel better, although I think that's bullshit myself."
"No. I don't feel any better."
"You Duelled again, didn't you?"
She took a moment to answer, during which the steam began to
rise from the kettle's spout. He poured the boiling water into
the teapot, over the bags of strong black tea that he favoured.
"Yes. Just today."
"You come here right after?" He left the tea to steep on
the counter, sat down across from her, and took a cookie. He
chewed thoughtfully; next time, more sugar, fewer nuts.
"Yes. After I lost... Tenjou and Himemiya left. Then my
brother left. And I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."
"Your brother say anything to you before he went?"
"He told me he hoped I was done with all this nonsense now,
and would come home like a good little sister," Nanami said
sourly. "Well, to hell with that."
"Smart." Saionji nodded approvingly and ate another cookie.
"When you do go back, make sure you don't fall into his clutches
again. He's a tricky bastard, your brother."
"Thank you so much, Kyouichi; it's helpful for you to
inform me of totally obvious facts."
"You've demonstrated a talent in the past for missing what's
right in front of you," he said bluntly.
"You're one to talk."
He scowled. "If you're going to bring up Anthy again, you
can just leave right now."
"You're still in love with her, aren't you?" she accused.
He almost flinched. "How easy do you think it is to stop
loving someone, anyway?"
"It's not easy. Not easy at all." Her voice was very soft;
she was admitting defeat in their verbal sparring. Or perhaps
she simply didn't care to try and win any longer.
The tea had steeped long enough. He got up and poured them
each a cup. "Milk? Sugar?"
"I hate black tea," she muttered. "Lots of both."
He laughed. "You ought to be more gracious towards your
host, Nanami-kun."
"You're a shitty host," she muttered.
"There's a saying about beggars and choosers, isn't there?"
He set down her teacup before her; it had turned a pale brown
from the amount of milk he'd added. Out the window, night was
oncoming, and the sun had entirely set. "Just so we get things
straight: you're definitely not staying the night here."
"I wouldn't want to anyway." She drank her tea, grimaced.
"It's too sweet."
"Do you ever do anything other than complain and beat people
up when they're kind to you?" He sat back down with his tea.
She snorted softly. "You're incapable of being kind."
"I don't act dishonest and hide my real feelings so that
people won't think badly of me, if that's what you mean."
"It's not."
He sipped his tea; hot enough almost to scald his mouth,
dark and bitter. "So, after tea and conversation, you go home."
"I'm not going home."
"Don't be stupid. Where are you going to stay the night?"
"I'm _not going home_."
His laughter was harsh and sharp. "Right. You're so
pampered you won't last a day without someone else to rely on.
And, if I understand you right, you've already tried Miki and
Juri."
She kept her silence, and glared uglily at the top of the
table. Then she raised her head and said, "Tenjou said before
she left that I could come and stay with them again if I needed
to. With her and the Rose Bride and the Ends of the World." She
laughed, a little choke in it. "Isn't that priceless? She has
no idea what those two are really up to. And she's got a crush
on the Trustee Chairman."
"Serves the bitch right," Saionji said coldly. "She'll get
what's coming to her in the end."
"So cruel..."
"Don't act self-righteous. You hate her as much as I do."
"What's it all for, Kyouichi? The Revolution, I mean."
"Like I said, it's a ritual." He had only come to the
conclusion himself some days ago, but chose to act as though it
had been his opinion all along. "You know how rituals ends,
right?"
"No."
"With a sacrifice." He smiled; a small, almost hidden,
secretive smile that he hoped disguise his own fear and
trepidation.
"It's horrible," Nanami murmured. "I should try and
transfer schools again. Get out of here, before it comes..."
He chuckled. "Do you really think you'll be allowed to
leave this place so easily?"
She went a little pale. "No. I don't think I would be.
Maybe I should just run... I've got a trust fund. I could get
money somehow. Go far away from here."
"You wouldn't last a day on your own, Nanami."
"And you would?"
"I'm not the one thinking about running away, am I?"
"Maybe you should be."
He frowned. "I'm not a coward. I won't run."
"You'd run too," she intoned, "if you'd seen the kind of
things I've seen."
"What are you talking about? Stop dancing around and just
come out and say it."
"The Rose Bride and her brother... the things they get up
to..." She closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth, as
though trying to keep her voice sealed away; but it came out all
the same, though muffled. "It's awful. Unnatural. Disgusting."
"Lies," he said slowly, finally beginning to understand what
she was hinting at. "Don't say such filth. I won't hear it."
"Just like Utena. You won't _see_."
He banged his hands on the table hard enough to make their
teacups bounce and almost spill; Nanami jumped a little in her
seat, looking suddenly fearful. "Lies," he hissed. "Watch your
damn mouth, Nanami, or--"
"Or what? You'll slap me?" She glared at him. "I'll hit
you right back, twice as hard and ten times more. I'm not a
submissive little sister like the Rose Bride, believe me."
He deflated a little. Then, slowly, he asked, "Does Touga
know about this? I mean, he's been running about with the
Deputy Chairman, and..."
"Know?" Nanami whispered. "Know? He tried to..."
"What?" he asked, almost desperately, as she trailed off.
"I can't." She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked
slightly in her chair. "I can't even..."
Saionji felt an acid nausea begin to bubble in the depths of
his stomach. He stared into the black depths of his tea, almost
convinced his faint, dark reflection was staring back at him with
accusation in its tea-dark eyes.
"You're wrong," he said finally.
She didn't say anything at all.
Slowly, he stood up.
"Come on," he said. He held out his hand, as though to help
her rise.
She stood on her own, frowning. "What?"
"I'm taking you home."
"I won't go!"
"Did I ask your agreement?"
"You can't make me--"
"Look, you can either come peacefully with me to talk to
your brother, or I can throw you over my shoulder and drag you
home kicking and screaming." He sneered at her. "And if you
don't think I'm capable of that, Nanami, then you really don't
know me."
"Bastard," she snarled. She looked as though the only thing
preventing her from crying again was how much she despised him.
"I hate you."
"Yeah, whatever. Come on."
Outside, the night was warm and a little humid. He led the
glaring Nanami around to the side of the dorm building, where the
bike racks were, and knelt down to unlock his bike.
"It's a long walk," he said by way of explanation. "This
will be faster."
"Touga used to give me rides on the back of his bike," she
said softly.
"Yeah," Saionji replied after a moment, standing up and
wheeling his bike out of the metal frame of the rack, "me too."
He moved it out into the front street; the traffic on the roads
was light, with few cars. There wasn't much night life in this
city, under usual circumstances.
"Do I really have to go back?" she asked in a small,
defeated voice, as he swung his leg over and settled down onto
the seat.
He looked back at her, a slender shape in the night, and
felt an uncharacteristic stab of compassion and empathy. He'd
told her she was acting like a child earlier, but how surprising
was that? How old was she again? Twelve, thirteen? He tried to
remember when her birthday was, and couldn't.
"Yeah," he said at last. "You do. Hop on." He patted the
rim guard over the back wheel, the same place he'd always used to
sit when he rode with Touga.
Nanami perched on it, grimacing. "It's uncomfortable," she
complained. "No padding."
"It's not far," he said. He was surprised at how soft his
voice had become. Perhaps it was simply the acoustics of the
night compared to those of his apartment. "Hang on tight to me
so you don't fall off."
She grudgingly wrapped her arms around his waist. He
gripped the handlebars, flicked on the bike's light so he could
see the way, lifted his feet to the pedals, and they were off.
Nanami tightened her grip as the wind began to blow through his
hair; the small, soft shapes of her breasts pressed against his
back, and she laid her head between his shoulder-blades
"You don't have to hang on _that_ tight," he muttered as he
worked the petals with all his strength, so that the night rushed
by and blurred around them.
"I don't want to fall," she whimpered, sounding terrified.
"Do you have to go so fast?"
"No," he replied. They reached an intersection; he whipped
the bike to the left in a quick turn, and Nanami let out a tiny
shriek. "But I like to."
"Please," she whispered. "Please, just slow down a little."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Please!"
Cars moved by them like large, sluggish fish beside a
darting minnow. The headlights bathed them in light, glistening
off his bike's reflectors and occasionally threatening to blind
him. Nanami let out a strangled sound and pressed even harder
against him.
The road began to slant upwards; he shifted gears to climb
it, and Nanami let out a sigh of relief as they slowed down.
"Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you, thank you, thank
you, oh, God, I thought I was going to die, how could you go so
_fast_--"
They reached the peak of the hill, and started down.
"OhshitohshitohshitohshitIhateyouIhateyouyoubastard!"
He laughed, and the wind caught it up and mingled it with
Nanami's yells and sent both their voices hurtling away into the
night sky towards the passionless stars. They coasted down the
hill at what felt like hundreds of miles an hour, weaving between
cars that honked their horns as they whipped past, whose drivers
leaned out the window to shout at them. Crazy kids, maniacs!
He applied the brakes gingerly, gradually slowing them, and
put his feet back on the pedals. A few more turns, and they were
in front of the gates of the Kiryuu mansion. Nanami didn't say
anything the rest of the way, merely clinging to his back like a
little blonde limpet.
The gates were open. Even when they had come to a complete
halt, Nanami still had her arms wrapped around them, as though
she didn't believe it was actually over.
"You paralysed, or what?" he asked.
"Bastard," she half-stuttered, slowly removing her arms
and stumbling away from the bike. "I'm going to be walking
funny for days," she said, wincing and rubbing her hips.
He wheeled his bike over and leaned it against the wall by
the gates, which were open wide as though in expectation of them.
"I haven't ridden down a hill like that in years," he said,
taking a deep breath of night air. "Fun, wasn't it?"
"No."
He glanced at her, smiling. "But don't you feel _alive_?"
he asked. "Like everything's more... real, somehow?"
She glowered at him. "No."
He shrugged. "Well, don't worry; you won't ever have to do
it again. Come on."
Nanami didn't move.
"Come on." He took her by the arm, firmly but gently, and
led her through the gates.
* * *
Brass called, strings swept; the timpani rolled like the rolling
of thunder. The music built until it seemed it could build no
more--and then it did, and the climax went on, and on, and
finished at last, leaving only silence as the last echo faded.
He stood at the unbroken window that should have been broken
and watched the night, wondering where his sister was; what she
was doing, who she was with. The Bruckner symphony was ended.
After a moment, he crossed the floor to the gramophone, took the
record off, and replaced it in its sleeve.
Unbroken window. Should have been broken, letting in night
breezes, night sounds... a spray of glass should have lain
glinting across the floor.
He ran a hand through his hair; it came away sweaty. He put
the record back on the shelf, and flipped through the collection;
the sleeves were faded, but in good condition. Some of them
belonged to his father, but most of were his own acquisitions.
Rostropovich and von Karajan; the Dvorak concerto; nineteen
sixty-nine. One of the original German LPs. Unbroken window.
Cross the floor, lift the arm, place the record upon the
turntable, position the needle...
This was the same room, was it not? But, if so, why was the
window unbroken? If you drove a car through a window, it should
stay broken, he thought. It was not right for it to be another
way.
The music began, sweet enough to tear the heart out. Dvorak
had been one of the last of the unashamed romantics. He'd died
before twelve-tone and minimalism and serialism and neo-
classicism and all the other -isms. He'd been lucky, in a way.
He hoped to God that wherever Nanami was, she hadn't gone
back to the Chairman's tower. He didn't think she would--no, he
knew she wouldn't go back there. But where, then?
Her lips had been small, and soft, and he'd tasted them only
briefly before she'd flung him away from her with a shocking
strength. He was almost certain it would have been her first
real kiss. His own sister.
And how did you come to this state, Mr. President?
Well, you see, it all began when I met a girl in a coffin,
and I couldn't save her...
And this chivalry of yours, is that all just an act?
I don't think I want to answer that question right now.
And do you think what you did to your sister was right, Mr.
President?
I don't know what's right. Or wrong, either. But was it
really so terrible for her? Didn't it force her to realize what
she really wanted?
Wouldn't it have been easier to just _talk things over with
her_, Mr. President? Aren't you merely justifying what you would
have had to do anyway? After all, the Duels must be fought; for
the Revolution of the world!
I don't--
Mr. President, just what are the ends of the Ends of the
World? Do you know? Do you?
Someone knocked at the door.
"Come in," he called, over the bowing of the cello and the
accompaniment of the orchestra. Perhaps Nanami was finally home;
or it might be his mother, asking if he'd had any word about
Nanami from any of his friends, what about Kyouichi, did you call
him and see? She might have gone to him, you know, the two of
you are such good friends, and why haven't I seen him around the
house lately? Did something happen?
No, Mother; don't worry about it. Things will be fine.
Nanami will be home soon, I'm sure. He'd given her a good cover
story; I think she found out about the adoption, somehow, Mother,
and you know how upset she can get over things.
They'd only told him a year ago, and asked him to keep it
from Nanami. Not that he hadn't already figured it out years
before. He had his ways.
The door opened; he turned away from the unbroken window.
"Saionji," he said, hiding his surprise as easily as he
concealed anything else.
"Touga," Saionji replied neutrally, closing the door behind
him. He looked around the room; at last, his eyes returned to
and fixed on Touga. "I brought your sister home."
"Thank you." He walked slowly over to Saionji, keeping a
little distance between them. "Where is she?"
"In the hall. I said I wanted a private word with you
first."
"Yes?"
Saionji crossed his arms and cocked his head, apparently
listening to the music. "Nice. What is it?"
"Dvorak."
"Uh-huh. Your mother's relieved to see Nanami back."
"Oh? You talked to her?"
"Just a little. You know how much I hate being thanked for
anything."
He smiled faintly. "Of course you do. It makes you feel
like you have some sort of obligation to people, which you hate."
"And you don't?"
"Of course not; I'm chivalrous."
"You're full of shit," Saionji snapped, eyes narrowing.
"Don't lose your temper." He held out his hand. "You
brought my sister back. Does this mean you want to be friends
again?"
After a moment, Saionji took his hand, scowling as he did.
Touga clasped his other hand over it and let his smile grow.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"No." Saionji smiled back.
The blow was dirty and unexpected, and it left Touga
gasping on the floor for air that simply would not cooperate and
allow him to draw it.
"That was a really shitty thing to do to your sister,
Touga," Saionji said almost conversationally. "I mean, even for
you. I knew you'd become an ass-kissing lackey for Ends of the
World, but I didn't think even you would try to rape your own
sister."
Touga rolled over onto his back. "Saionji--" he managed to
croak. He felt as though he were going to throw up at any
moment.
"Shut up," Saionji snarled, looming over him. "Shut up, or
I'll kick your fucking head in. I actually thought better of you
than that. You're scum, Touga. I'd spit on you, but I don't
want to waste the saliva."
He knelt down, grabbed Touga by the collar, and jerked him
upright. The motion almost broke the hold Touga had on not
bringing up his dinner. He didn't think he'd ever been hit so
hard in the stomach before.
"Now you listen to me," he hissed. "You can get up to
whatever you want with the Chairman and whatever game he's
playing with Tenjou Utena, because I don't give a shit about you
or him or that stuck-up bitch, but you touch your sister again
and I'll kill you."
"Since when did you care so much about Nanami?" The nausea
was retreating a little, thank goodness; he expected he'd be able
to breathe normally again in a year or so.
Saionji let him go and stood up. Touga sat on the floor,
drawing hesitant breaths and clutching his stomach.
"I don't, much," Saionji said, stepping back and turning
away from Touga. "It's the principle of the thing."
"Saionji?"
"What?"
Touga's tackle caught him about the waist in mid-turn.
They went down together on the floor in a tangle of limbs; Touga,
who never fought angry, calmly seized Saionji by the hair and
banged his forehead against the floor to gain the advantage. The
Dvorak played sedately in the background as he grabbed Saionji's
flailing arms and pinned them, then dug one knee into the small
of his back.
"That was a dirty blow, Saionji," he said, with coolness he
didn't feel. "I thought you had more honour than that."
"Go to hell," Saionji snapped. He struggled, but Touga had
too much leverage. "Once I get loose, I'll make you--"
Touga banged his head against the floor again. "Shut up,
fool, and listen to me. I don't know what Nanami told you, but
it didn't happen like that."
"Get off me!" Saionji writhed like a fish out of water, and
nearly managed to throw Touga off. "Damn it!"
"You started this. Don't be such a poor sport."
"You're the one who started this! How the hell did you end
up licking the boots of Ends of the World, anyway? I didn't
think you'd ever end up as someone's servant; you had too much
pride."
"It's a long story. You haven't got the time to hear it,
and I don't want to tell it to you anyway."
"Fine. Now let me up, Touga!"
"Didn't you threaten to kill me just a moment ago? Why
should I let you up, if you're going to be a danger to me?"
There was a knock at the door. Touga looked back. "Just a
minute!" he called.
Saionji slipped an arm free in Touga's moment of distraction
and clubbed him in the side of the head with his forearm. Touga
reeled and Saionji hurled him off with a twist of his body. They
came up from the floor almost simultaneously, fists bunched and
held up before them.
The first movement allegro of the Dvorak swelled to a
crescendo. Saionji stepped forward, clumsily jabbing the air
with his fists in wasted aggressive motions; Touga retreated,
trying not to smile. His stomach still hurt like hell, and his
head was aching, but he felt oddly good.
"Stop running, damn it!"
"And let you hit me? No thanks."
"Coward!"
Again, the knocking.
"Come in!" Touga called, dancing away from Saionji's blows
as he did.
Nanami opened the door, looked at the two of them, and
blinked. Saionji glanced briefly at her, which gave Touga the
opportunity to punch him in the jaw. He staggered back; Touga
followed up with two light jabs to the stomach.
"You should have taken those boxing classes with me back in
our freshman year, Saionji-kun," he said. "I found them very
informative."
Saionji stepped right into another stomach jab, snarling,
eyes wild; Touga tried to move back, but was too slow, and then
Saionji had him by the throat. Touga gasped as Saionji tightened
his hands, and grabbed him by the throat in turn.
Nanami just stared for a split second. Then she started
yelling.
"What are you two doing? You said you were going to _talk_
to him, not kill him! Stop it! Stop it right now!"
"He started it," Touga gasped in an air-choked whisper.
He'd forgotten how _strong_ Saionji was...
Saionji's eyes were bulging, and smouldered like jade coals.
"Liar! You started it!"
"I don't care who started it!" Nanami howled. "Just stop
it!"
Touga caught Saionji's eye; some mutual agreement passed
between them, and they both released their grips and backed away
from each other, sucking air and rubbing their throats. Touga
flopped down into a chair near the unbroken window; Saionji
slumped against the wall nearby.
"When was the last time we had a fight like that?" Touga
asked after a moment.
Saionji appeared to think upon it briefly. "When we were in
our second year of junior high, I think."
"What was it over, again?"
"I don't even remember any more. Maybe a girl?"
Touga nodded, still massaging his throat. "It was a long
time ago."
Slowly, he began to laugh. It hurt. After a moment,
Saionji joined in.
Nanami looked from one to the other, puzzled and angry and
confused. "I hate you both!" she snapped finally, spinning on
her heel and heading for the door. "I should have just let you
strangle each other. I'd have been better off."
"Nanami," Touga called.
Somewhat to his surprise, she turned back, glaring icily at
him. "What?"
"Get us some ice packs, would you? We could use them."
Saionji nodded. He sat down on the floor and gingerly
touched his forehead, wincing as he did. "Shit," he muttered.
"My life seems to consist of being beaten up or used by the
Kiryuu siblings these days."
Nanami's teeth ground together audibly as she left the room,
slamming the door behind her.
"She actually going to get us ice packs?" Saionji asked,
sounding genuinely interested.
"I'd give it good odds," Touga replied.
Saionji shook his head, then looked from his grimacing
expression as though he wished he hadn't. "What the hell
actually happened between you two, anyway?"
"She had to duel again. One way or the other."
"Yeah." Saionji snorted. "I just bet she did. And that
was the only way, huh?"
"Probably not," Touga said evenly. He rested an elbow on
the arm of the chair and cupped his chin lightly with one hand.
"But it was how he wanted to do it." The admission came with
surprising difficulty; he might as well have said it straight
out: Saionji, I'm not in control anymore. I haven't been for a
long time.
Saionji seemed almost to hear the unspoken words; his
expression softened slightly. "He's a real bastard, isn't he?"
"Yes. But so am I, so we get along all right."
Saionji smirked cynically. "So, which one's the act?"
"Hrm?"
"I remember you talking all that shit about chivalry when we
were kids, but it always sounded like you actually believed it.
Why are you doing this, Touga? What are you aiming for?"
Saionji chuckled dryly and sat down cross-legged on the floor,
head and back resting against the wall. "What do you want to
be?"
Touga didn't answer.
"What did you do to her, anyway?"
"A kiss."
Saionji looked dubious. "That all?"
"That was all."
Scowling, Saionji punched the floor. "She made it sound a
hell of a lot worse than it was, then."
"It was bad enough for her," Touga said quietly.
Saionji just glared at the floor.
Touga took a gamble. "Seeing the Chairman and his sister
didn't do her much good either."
The look of pure venom that Saionji shot him told him it had
paid off; Nanami had told him, or hinted at it in such a way that
Saionji had figured it out.
"That kind of thing's unnatural," Saionji muttered
eventually.
"So, that's what this was all about," Touga concluded,
unable to suppress a condescending smirk. "I got to be the
Chairman's proxy, and Nanami got to stand in for Himemiya for
you. How noble, in a rather deluded fashion; how very like you,
Saionji."
"Fuck you, Touga. Don't psychoanalyse me. I always hate
when you get up to that."
The first movement ended; the second--adagio ma non troppo--
began. Touga shifted in his chair; Saionji glared at the floor
between his legs. The music filled the silence like water in a
vessel.
"Izanagi and Izanami, though brother and sister, fathered
all the gods of Japan," Touga said, after some time had passed
between them without any talk at all.
Saionji looked quizzically at him. "What was that you
said?"
"I think about that story sometimes these days," Touga
replied, distantly. "Do you know it?"
"Of course." Saionji seemed annoyed that Touga even
considered it possible he didn't.
"When Izanami died giving birth to fire, Izanagi descended
into the underworld to rescue her. But he found she had become a
dead thing, queen of worms and corpses. She tried to force him
to stay with her in the darkness, but he escaped her, and sealed
the way behind him, leaving her unable ever again to reach the
light."
"I said that I knew the damn story, didn't I?"
"I know," Touga murmured. "I know."
Saionji said, "What the hell are they, Touga?"
"Fallen gods. Fallen angels." He shrugged. "I don't
know."
Saionji whistled softly. "Well, I'll be damned."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"Hey, Touga?"
Touga raised his head and met Saionji's eyes. There was an
oddly childish lilt in his old friend's voice; he remembered it
well. Hey, Touga, wait for me; you're running too fast; I can't
keep up with you. Wait up!
"Yes?"
"You told me that the Chairman was the one who saved that
girl... the one who was in the coffin. That he showed her
something eternal."
"Yes?"
"Did you see it too?"
Before Touga could answer, the door opened, and Nanami
stalked in, an ice pack in each hand. She glared at Touga and
tossed it to him with a hard underhand throw; he caught it,
smiled and thanked her, and gladly pressed it to the aching side
of his head.
Body language radiating total disdain for Touga, Nanami
knelt down by Saionji and offered him the ice pack. "Here."
Saionji took it and held it to his forehead. "Thanks."
Nanami took a few steps back, then sat down on the floor,
near the table that the gramophone rested on, legs curled beneath
her. She looked from one boy to the other, then away, lips
pressed into a tight frown.
"It's good to see you home," Touga offered.
"Shut up."
He held up a hand defensively. "Come now, Nanami..."
"I said, shut up."
Saionji switched the ice pack to his jaw and smiled
faintly. "Want me to leave the two of you alone to talk?"
"You're welcome to leave any time you choose," Nanami said
frostily. She folded her arms and glared. "I'm still trying to
decide which one of you I hate more right now."
"Him." Saionji jerked a thumb in Touga's direction.
Touga nodded, tried not to smile. "Saionji's not the most
pleasant of men, but he's a saint compared to me."
Nanami looked at him with undisguised disgust. "This really
is just a game to you, isn't it?" she asked softly. "You don't
care who gets hurt at all. Kyouichi, or me, or anyone else."
He almost winced; but control, control was everything. "I
take my games seriously."
"If you have weaknesses, people will take advantage of
them," Saionji said, voice muffled slightly by the positioning of
the ice pack. "But you only learn to fear fire by getting burned
by it." His voice dropped to an intense whisper. "Burn down
before you build up."
"You're both full of it," Nanami snapped. She glared at
Saionji, slightly wounded and trying to hide it. "And I can't
believe you're taking his side."
"I'm not taking anyone's side," Saionji rebuffed. "I'm just
commenting. I'm here for myself alone." He stood up. "On that
note, it's late, and tomorrow's a school day. Mind if I keep
the ice pack for now? I'll return it when I'm finished with it,
of course."
Touga nodded. "Go ahead."
"Gonna be a long walk home in the dark," Saionji said as he
walked towards the door. "But I don't want to ride my bike home
when my head feels like this."
"I could call you a cab--"
Saionji silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Nope. I'm
not going to be in your debt for anything. Sorry." He opened
the door, stepped out into the hallway, turned. "You know, you
are still technically part of the kendo team, Touga; it wouldn't
hurt you to stop by for practice once in a while."
"No," Touga said evenly, "it probably wouldn't."
Saionji turned his gaze to Nanami. "Nanami."
She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"
"You take care of yourself," Saionji said, with something
Touga might almost have called warmth. "Don't let your brother
use you again, because he will if you give him the opportunity."
"Thank you for the advice," Nanami said ungratefully.
Saionji waved, closed the door, and was gone.
Touga waited a few moments, then said, "Can I talk to you
now without being told to shut up?"
Nanami didn't answer.
"If it helps," he continued neutrally, "I'm sorry that you
got hurt, Nanami. But you have to understand my point of view--"
"No." She stood. "I don't have to understand your point of
view at all." She opened the door; the adagio swelled poignantly
as though timed to her actions. "I don't think I want to."
She slammed the door behind her.
Touga sat in the chair and waited for the Dvorak to end, and
tried not to think of anything at all. His stomach hurt.
* * *
When she was very young, sometimes she'd grow scared after she
was put to bed, on moonless nights, usually, when the darkness
was so very thick. Then she'd leave her bedroom and go down the
hallway to her brother's room. Quietly, very quietly, she'd open
the door and enter and quietly, very quietly, she'd crawl into
his bed, beside him.
Sometimes, he was awake, and he'd say, What's wrong, Nanami?
And she would always say, Big brother, the night was trying
to eat me again.
And he would always laugh, and say that was silly, because
the night itself couldn't eat you. Then he would say, Pretend
that the darkness is the ocean, and this bed is a boat, with just
the two of us in it, and we are sailing to a pleasant land where
it is always summer.
Just the two of us?
Yes, just the two of us.
And they'd lie there together. Sometimes he would hold her,
and eventually the rhythms of their breathing would synchronize,
until they seemed as though they had but one single set of lungs
between them. And to her it would seem like the rising and
falling of their breath was like the rise and fall of the waves,
and beneath her the bed would seem to undulate as it floated upon
the wine-dark sea.
And other times, he would be asleep, and she would just lie
there in silence beside him until sleep took her too. And she
never, ever had nightmares beside her big brother.
How old had she been, the last time she'd done that? Maybe
eight. Eight, the last time she'd done it, and he'd let her
stay. Then it had been, Nanami, don't be silly, you're a big
girl now, you're too big to be scared of the dark, too big to
need to sleep with your big brother. Every time after that, he
sent her back, by herself. And the walk back down the hall to
her room took forever, because it was so very dark.
There _were_ things in the dark to be afraid of, and if the
night itself couldn't eat you, plenty of things that lurked in
the night could, and would, and wanted to.
But Touga had been right. She was a big girl now and she
didn't need any kind of brother at all, especially not a false
one. She didn't need anyone. Everyone she knew was horrible
anyway, in their own particular way. They were cruel or
insensitive or ignorant or mean or uncaring or stupid. She
didn't need them.
She didn't mind being here by herself in her room, with the
lights out. She was still dressed, lying atop the neatly-made
covers, staring at the shadows. It was very dark. But she
wasn't scared. Only babies were scared of the dark. Scared of
being alone. She wasn't some weirdo like Tenjou, needing to
practically sleep in the same bed as her so-called friend--
There came a knocking at the door.
"Go away!" she called.
"Nanami, honey, can't I come in?"
She sat up, surprised. "Mama? Yes, of course."
The door opened slowly, an air of hesitation to it, and her
mother came in. Her adopted mother. Whatever. It was hard to
think of her as anything other than her mother, though, whatever
their real relationship might be.
"Can I turn the lights on?"
"If you want."
The sudden shift from dark to bright made her close her
eyes momentarily. Her mother, who had probably been very pretty
when she was younger, came and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm glad you're home, Nanami."
Those exact words had already been said when Kyouichi had
practically presented her to her mother, but Nanami decided not
to point that out. "Okay."
"You scared me, running away like that. Scared me a lot. I
mean, even when Touga found out you were staying with your
friends, I was scared. I wanted to... I don't know. I wanted to
try and talk to you. I wanted your father to come home. But
Touga said he'd handle things. And he did, I guess. Because
you're home now."
"Okay."
"I guess you were pretty shocked to find out. Maybe we
should have told you earlier. But we decided we'd tell each of
you when you turned sixteen, and it seemed to work okay for
Touga, and... I'm sorry, honey. It must have been a real shock.
Touga said you found out because of the blood types. We never
thought of that."
"It's okay."
"Is there anything you want to know?"
"Are Touga and I related by blood?"
Her mother looked a little surprised at the question. "Yes.
We adopted the two of you together; we couldn't have done it any
other way." She looked at her hands, which were twitching a
little; Nanami recognized it as a sign she wanted a cigarette.
"It's a strange story, you know. You want to hear it?"
"Of course I want to hear it," Nanami said, a little
peevishly. "Don't you think I want to know who I really am?"
Her mother said something under her breath, too quiet for
her to hear.
"What's that?"
"I said, doesn't everybody?"
She edged a little closer to her mother. "Tell me the
story, Mama."
"The two of you showed up on our doorstep one morning. One
of the maids found you. Touga was about five--that was what the
doctors estimated--and you were only a baby. He was holding you
in his arms, and he was dressed really nice; a little blue suit.
And all he would say was, 'My name is Touga. This is my sister,
Nanami. Will you take care of us?' And then when I said I
would, he didn't say anything else, for six months. Nobody could
get him to talk. We spent a lot of money on private
investigators after the police gave up looking, but no one ever
found out anything about who your real parents might be. Very
strange."
"Yes." The story simply didn't seem to register, on top of
everything else. So Touga and her were related by blood. Big
deal. He was still a bastard whom she wanted nothing at all to
do with. "Why didn't he talk?"
"The first thing he said after that was, 'Mother, Nanami is
crying.' He always talked so proper when he was little; it was
adorable. After that, he talked normally, but if your father or
me or anyone else tried to ask him about things that had happened
before he came here, he just wouldn't say anything. Nothing
would make him talk about that."
"Oh." Her mother hadn't actually answered the question, but
she decided not to pry. "That is a strange story."
"I've read some things. A book. Several books. I think I
probably know the kinds of things you're thinking right now. Why
you ran away. Just... well, don't. Your father and I don't love
you any less because you're adopted. We always want you to be a
part of this family, you and your brother. You two were like a
miracle." Her mother smiled; it made the ghost of her beauty
drift higher in the lines of her face. "They said I probably
never could have children, you know. We tried, and tried, and
finally we gave up. And then you two showed up, like you'd
fallen from heaven for us."
The words gave little comfort. They weren't even close to
the kinds of thoughts she had. But she supposed they were meant
well enough, even though they might as well have come from an
entirely different world than the one she lived in now. "I'm
sorry I ran away, Mama. I know you love me. I love you too."
The words came easily, almost mechanically.
"We haven't spent a lot of time together lately, have we,
honey?"
"Not really."
"You and Touga both seem to be growing up so fast these
days, and you're both so busy with school, with the Student
Council... I don't know. I'm sorry if I've been rather distant
lately."
"It's okay."
"Is there anything you want to talk about? I mean, you're
thirteen now. You're growing up. Pretty soon you'll be a woman,
not a girl." Her mother looked uncomfortable; the speech was
obviously prepared in advanced, and made with some effort. "I
mean... you know about... things, right?"
Nanami flushed crimson and stared intently at the bed.
"Yes," she muttered. "Yes, I know about things."
"Oh." Her mother looked relieved. "That's good. Umm..."
"Is that all?"
"I don't know. Is it?" Her mother's voice seemed distant;
Nanami was certain she wanted the conversation to have ended some
time ago, but was keeping it up out of a sense of obligation. "I
feel like I should be asking you the kinds of questions my mother
asked me when I got to be your age, even though I thought they
were stupid then, and you'll probably think they're stupid now.
Are you worried about anything? Is anything troubling you? Are
there any boys you like?"
"No, no, and no," Nanami lied.
"Really? No boys at all?" Her mother appeared somewhat
disappointed. "What about Kyouichi? It was nice of him to bring
you home; he's a nice boy, isn't he? And very handsome."
"He's a jerk," she muttered. "Boys are all jerks."
Her mother laughed forcedly. "I remember when I used to
think that. But it's not true, really. I mean, they're not all
jerks all of the time."
"Mama, do we have to talk about this?"
"Well, no, we don't. It's just that you're at the age where
you start to think about these kind of things. Boys. Things
like that. But..."
"What?"
Her mother seemed to be blushing a little as well. "Just
keep in mind that you're still young and you need to be careful.
About boys and dating and... other things like that. You're
still young."
"Mother!"
"I'm sorry. I just wanted... needed... honey, you look
really tired."
"I am. I had a long day."
"And here I am, gabbing away at you. I'm sorry. I'll let
you sleep. Maybe we can talk about this more tomorrow?"
"Maybe."
But they wouldn't. She knew that, and her mother knew that.
So many relationships were based on mutual denial of obvious
facts.
She wondered if her mother would give her a hug or a kiss
before leaving. She tried to decide if she was disappointed when
she didn't. It wasn't unexpected. Touga was the only one who
had ever hugged or kissed her much, even when she was little.
After her mother closed the door, she could hear her talking
to someone in the hallway, hear Touga's voice raised in reply.
Then they stopped. For a moment, there was silence.
The door to her room opened.
"Have you ever heard of knocking?" she snapped.
Touga shrugged as he closed the door. "You always used to
come into my room without knocking."
"That was when we were kids. It's different now."
"But wasn't that what you wanted?" he asked quietly. "For
things to just be like they were when we were children again?"
"They can't. I'm aware of that now. I've learned your
little lesson. Now get out." She glared at him; he didn't seem
bothered by it at all.
"Is this really the way you want it to be between us from
now on, Nanami?"
She didn't answer at first. Then she said, with a pain that
surprised her, a pain she wished she didn't have to feel, "How
can it ever be any other way? After what you did..."
He crossed the floor and sat down on the bed beside her.
She said nothing, made no motion, to stop him. He folded his
hands in his lap and stared at them. He still looked a bit
winded from his fight with Kyouichi.
"I wouldn't have done any more than you wanted me to," he
said finally.
"Oh?" she said, hugging herself and looking away from him
until he became only a vague shape seen from the corner of one
eye, until it seemed he was on the verge of disappearing from her
sight forever. "And what if I'd wanted more, Touga? What if
instead of shoving you off me, I'd kissed you back? What if it
had turned out that it _was_ what I really wanted, all along?
What then?"
He didn't say anything at all.
"You would have, wouldn't you?" she finally hissed bitterly.
"I wouldn't have wanted to," he replied.
"But you would have."
Again, he didn't say anything.
Slowly, not really wanting to, she turned her head back
until she could take all of him in. The silky fall of crimson
hair, the angular division of light and shadow across his face,
the gentle blue of his eyes...
He was so very beautiful, her brother.
"Did you even know it wasn't what you wanted until it
happened?" he asked suddenly.
Her entire body tightened like a clenched fist. "How dare
you come in here and ask me that?"
"Because I want to know." He locked eyes with her; a note
of what might have been anger came into his voice. "Be honest
with yourself, Nanami; is it normal to spy on your big brother
when he's showering? Is it normal to try and control his life so
that there won't be any other woman in it but you?"
"That wasn't--"
"It wasn't? Then what was it?"
"You didn't--"
"No. I didn't." It came out laced with weariness,
something she thought (wanted to believe, perhaps) was regret.
She moved a little closer to him, as close as she could get
without touching.
"I wish it didn't have to be this way," she said finally,
giving voice to the hidden desire that she was ashamed to hold.
"I wish... I wish..."
"Wishing never did anyone any good. You can't make anything
happen just by wanting it enough."
"You sound as though you wish that weren't true."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe I do."
"Mama told me the story. About how we came here."
"Oh."
"Is it true?"
"I don't really have any way of knowing. I was very young
when we came here; I hardly remember anything."
"And before we came here? Do you remember anything about
that?"
A quiet more profound than the mere absence of noise seemed
to descend upon her bedroom. Touga's eyes, still looking into
hers, flickered closed, then opened again so quickly they seemed
never to have been closed at all. Outside, cicadas had begun to
call to each other. Wind rattled the panes.
"I don't remember anything about those times at all," he
said finally.
"Why do you think our real parents sent us here, Touga?"
"I wish I knew."
"I don't, you know."
"What?"
"I don't want things to be like this between us forever. I
want... I want..."
"What do you want?"
"I don't know. I just don't want it to be like _this_.
Being so angry with you that I want to kill you, and at the same
time still loving you. I hate feeling like this. It's like
there are two of me, and one wants to go one way, and the
other..."
"Relationships can't always be simple." To her surprise, he
broke eye contact. "Look at Saionji and me. One moment, we were
trying to strangle each other; the next, we were laughing like
old friends."
"That's because you're both idiots," she muttered.
"I think he likes you."
She sniffed and turned her nose up at him. "I've no idea
what you're talking about."
"Seriously. You could do worse. He's not a bad guy."
"I could do a lot better, too," she said with a snort.
"Oh? Miki, perhaps?" He grinned at her. "Or... I do seem
to remember you saying something a little while ago about
preferring girls..."
"Stop it!" She was blushing again.
"Sorry."
"Jerk."
He laughed.
"So," he said after a quiet moment, "am I forgiven?"
"No," she said stonily. "I'm still mad at you. I still
can't believe you're willingly working for that creepy Chairman.
But..."
"But what?"
"It's like Tenjou said," she muttered, angry at the
admission. "Some things haven't changed. You _are_ still my
brother. And even though I shouldn't, I still love you. Even
though you're a bastard and an asshole and a jerk. I don't
_like_ it, but that's the way it is."
Touga closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little.
"Tenjou's very wise, in her own naive sort of way."
"She can't even see what's under her own nose. The Chairman
and his sister... disgusting. They're like demons, or
something."
Touga said nothing.
"What's going to happen to her, anyway?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her with interest. "I
didn't know you cared."
"I don't," she protested. "I'm just interested. As far as
I'm concerned, that girl will just get what's coming to her.
Get sacrificed for the Revolution, or whatever."
"Sacrificed?" He almost sounded concerned.
She tightened her arms around herself. "Kyouichi says this
has all been like a ritual. And I think he's right. Him, then
Miki, then Juri, than me, than you... then over again, in the
same order. So I guess you're next. And then the ritual will be
over, and it will be time for the sacrifice. I almost feel sorry
for her."
"I hadn't much thought of it that way," Touga said finally,
in a very quiet voice.
"Are you going to fight her again?"
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't really have much
choice in the matter if Kyouichi's right, now do I?"
"Maybe there's a way we could stop it. I mean, we could
tell people. Tell everyone. You could refuse to fight. We
could tell Tenjou everything--"
"Do you really want to risk the wrath of the Ends of the
World?" he asked quietly.
She shuddered. "No; no I don't. But--"
"The best thing for you to do now is stay away," he said.
"Stay well away. I... my part isn't done in this yet, but I
think yours is. I'll take care of things from now on."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"I wish I could believe you."
"Believe me on this one. I'll do my best to make sure
everything works out all right."
Nanami let out a yawn she seemed to have been holding in for
several hours now.
"Tired?"
"Tired, and sore, and still angry with you for everything,
by the way."
"I'm aware. I won't keep you up any longer." He stood up,
made as though to move towards the door, then paused. "A kiss
goodnight, then?"
"I don't want one from you."
"Well... good night, then."
"Hmph."
He turned the lights out and closed the door behind him.
"Jerk."
She flopped down on her side on the bed and found her eyes
closing almost instantly. I should undress and change into my
night clothes, she thought. I should crawl under the covers.
But I am so tired, and those things all would take effort...
Perhaps by now Utena is asleep, facing the Rose Bride in the
darkness. She has no idea at all about what those two get up to.
Or maybe she does, and just won't let herself think about it;
maybe she's like me, a type B, and she gets stuck on the wrong
ideas really easily. Maybe it's easy for her to lie to herself.
Tomorrow, I should go to her, and I should say it straight out;
I shouldn't dance around it like I did before. I should say,
Tenjou-sempai (I would call her Tenjou-sempai; I would try to be
sincere in calling her that), I need to tell you some things.
Some things you should know that are important for your safety.
The Chairman is... he and his sister... the Ends of the World...
Oh, why can't I even form the words in my mind? If I could
string them together in my mind, they would be like an unbroken
chain of silver and gold, and I would have only to let them come
forth, without stuttering, without fear... I could write her a
letter and send it anonymously... but she wouldn't believe an
anonymous letter... I wouldn't believe an anonymous letter...
She probably wouldn't even believe me if I could tell her face to
face... after she tried to be nice to me, in her way, and I just
threw it back at her... I could go to Miki and Juri, and Kyouichi
too, and we could all go to her, and tell her the identity of the
Ends of the World, and then, then, maybe together, all of us
could fight him, all of us with our swords, or we could run away
from here together, go far, far away (this bed is a boat, and
the darkness is the ocean, and the bed is travelling to a land
where it is always summer), somewhere where the Ends of the World
could never find us... but he would find us, he would always find
us... and I can't do these things, because I'm too scared, the
Chairman and his sister; I saw them together, and there was
light, such as that which surrounds angels or gods or demons...
I'm so very afraid. There's nothing I can do. My big brother
said, I'll do my best to make sure everything works out all
right. So don't worry, Nanami, because things will be okay,
everything will be okay; but all shall be well, and oh, poor,
poor Utena, she'll be okay, won't she, big brother? Yes, Nanami,
she'll be fine, just go to sleep now, good night, Nanami, and
here is a good night kiss for you, entirely innocent, just like
when we were children, so don't worry, Nanami, because all shall
be well, and everyone, everyone, even Tenjou--
END
Notes:
Whew.
More of a novella than a short story, this one turned out to be.
The unseen things in Episodes 31 and 32 have always intrigued me
by their possibilities. Nanami staying at Miki's place? At
Juri's place? What went on?
I originally intended this as a Nanami story, something similar
to "What Is Done"; it became, as I wrote it, a story about all of
the Student Council. Something obviously occurs to change the
relationship dynamic between Touga and Saionji between Episode
25 and Episode 34; something obviously occurs that would explain
why Shiori looks so pissed at Juri flirting with Utena in Episode
37. But what?
Perhaps this got written because after their final duels, the
Student Council fade a little into the background, as the focus
of the story tightens and tightens to resolve the triangle of
Utena, Anthy and Akio, to tell the last story of the Revolution.
This is natural and necessary from a storytelling perspective...
...but sometimes it leaves those of us who are rabid fanboys of
various Student Council members feeling a bit unsatisfied. ^_~
I'm a little uncertain about the whole story, particularly the
ending. Is it too unwieldily to fit within the canon? Are parts
of it too warm and fuzzy to be plausible? Is it too big for what
I wanted it to do?
But no story ends up the way you see it in your head; in your
head, everything works perfectly. And then you write it down,
and it doesn't work at all as you'd intended, and...
I'm rambling. I don't tend to ramble this much in my notes.
So I'll finish up.
This is only a story; it's one facet of a whole gem of
possibilities. Ambiguity reigns in SKU, which is one of the
reasons it's such a delight to write for. I'm not saying this is
how it necessarily happened; I'm not saying this is even
necessarily a very plausible guess at how it happened; I'm not
even saying that this is how I believe it happened. It's just
how the story ended up. Take that as you will.
Kudos for prereading and support on this particular story go to
Andrew Huang, Sean Gaffney, Mercutio, and Irina Louise Ruden.
Kudos to all of you for reading to the end of these (rather
self-indulgent) notes.
And that's all I've got to say for now.
Ciao,
-Alan Harnum, September 3rd, 2000