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mbsilvana@yahoo.com
standard disclaimers
AN: Thanks to Lyra Stormrider for concept editing, and
Alan Harnum for thorough shredding.   It's very
appreciated.   C&C are encouraged.
Dedicated to Gerald Tarrant, who some would say is my
better half.  This part also gets a special nod to
Ekaterina for all the kicks in the rear she supplied.
*************************************





Part Two: Illusory Light


        I didn't believe in miracles when I was younger.


        After all, what is a miracle?  An event that cannot
be explained by nature, at least by one definition. 
When I was young, a confused teenager fighting a
battle against the sorrow and despair that was trying
to overwhelm me, I would say this often, daring
someone to prove me wrong.


        Perhaps my bitterness stems from my childhood.   I
was born not only wealthy, but beautiful.   My mother
would often fuss over me, making sure my hair curled
right, that my clothes were clean, that I wore a
pleasant expression.  I can still hear her voice even
to this day:


        "Stand up straight, Juri!   A good posture leads to a
good figure!"


        "Juri, dear, remember to brush your hair a hundred
times.   It will help make it grow faster."


        "Really, darling, you can't go to the concert.   You
need to get sleep early so you don't get wrinkles."


        My mother was obsessed with my beauty.   She taught
me that it was a tool to advance myself, not a burden
to be borne.   I must not squander my precious youth,
she had told me, for it would only take an instant for
life to pass me by if I was not careful.


        My was a beautiful but bitter woman.   My father left
her for another woman while she was carrying me, and I
don't think she ever forgave me and my sister for
ruining her perfect figure.   Never mind that I never
chose to be conceived; often times, I think that it
might be better if I had not.   It's a heavy burden to
bear, doubting the purpose of your existence.


        Doubting your right to exist.


        Unlike Miki.   Miki has always had a cause, had a
reason for existing.   He exists because Kozue needs
him, and he exists because eventually, many others
will as well.  I see within him that spark of virtue
that will draw those others to him, and he has the
gifts they will need.   Their faith in him will not be
misplaced. 


        Even though I had sent him to bed, claiming I had a
modeling job early the next morning, I did not
immediately go to sleep.  My mind lay heavy with
memories, of pain that I had forgotten.   


        Shiori.


        Ruka.


        Her.


        Who was she?


        A girl who believed in miracles....


        I shook my head, trying to dismiss the thoughts that
had returned to me without my consent.   For the past
five years, I had been at peace with myself, only to
have that false serenity shattered by the least likely
source.   Miki had called me back to myself and I
wasn’t sure how to take it.


        He hadn’t wanted to remember either, yet he had
thoughtlessly propelled me back into the anguish of my
teenage years.  Part of me wanted to get even, but I
knew that Miki never would have done anything
intentionally to me.  He was too soft hearted.


        When I was this upset, there was only one thing to
do- take one of my showers.  It would relax me, and I
always found it easier to organize my thoughts under
the steady beat of hot water.


        I’m not sure where my obsession with showering comes
from, but I do know that whenever I get upset, my
first instinct is to go take a shower hot enough to
turn me into an imitation lobster.  I’ve invested
quite a bit of money in my bathing facilities because
of it.


        My hair had lost its trademark curls by the time I
stepped out of the shower, yet I was no closer to any
kind of answer then I had been before.  Wrapping a
light satin robe around myself, I was just about to
use the blow-dryer when the phone rang.


        I picked up the bathroom extension, wondering who
would be calling me at this hour of the night.   It
was nearly 1 AM and I had to be at my photo shoot by
eight.  I muttered a greeting, not feeling like
talking, and silently promising myself that if the
call wasn’t life or death, I would get violent.


        "Is Miki there?" 


        "Nanami?" I asked, surprised to hear her on the other
end. She hadn't even bothered to greet me.


        "Yes, Juri-sempai," she said.   "Where's Miki?   I
spoke to Kozue and she said he was staying there for
the night."   A note of suspicion entered her soprano.


        "He's here, but I'm not going to let you talk to
him," I said sharply.  I would protect Miki... protect
his precious innocence.  Nanami was up to something,
and I refused to let her entangle us -him- in the web
that Ohtori was.   We had escaped; there would be no
going back.


        "Juri... he slapped me!" she said.


        "You certainly deserved it.   How dare you give him
the Sword of Dios?" I demanded.   "You’re lucky he
didn’t try to kill you.   Don’t you know anything? 
Don’t you know what that did to him?   He was at
peace, finally, and you go and disrupt it in another
of your madcap schemes!"


        She spoke softly into the receiver, so softly that I
had to strain to hear her.   "The last thing on Earth
I want to do is hurt Miki."


        "You did, Nanami.   You tore the foundation out from
underneath him.   I won’t forgive you for that."


        "I won’t forgive myself," she replied, her voice
stronger this time.  "I never wanted to do anything to
Miki, but... I can’t live like this anymore."


        I clenched the phone in my hand so tightly that I’m
surprised that it didn’t break.  "It’s all about you,
isn’t it?"


        "No," she whispered.   "It’s about the truth.   The
truth of who we are.  These gaps in my memory, these
feelings of emptiness... we gained peace, but at what
cost?   The erasure of our memories?  Juri... proud
Juri... that means we lost ourselves.   We’re merely
shadows on a wall, no longer capable of being complete
people.   It is the sum of our memories that make up
ourselves, and when we lack those memories, we no
longer can claim to be human."  A remarkably
philosophical discourse from a girl who had barely
graduated high school, but then, Nanami was always
full of surprises.   She wouldn’t have been a Duelist
if she was simple.


        Duelist.... Now what was a Duelist?


        I was unaware I had said that aloud until Nanami
answered me.   "A Duelist is one who fights for the
revolution of the world, one who fights for... the rest
of their being.  I think.   I’m not sure.   I still
can’t remember everything, but I remember an Arena,
and fighting with swords.   Isn’t that funny?   I
never knew how to fight, unlike the rest of you.  
Still, I was one of you."


        "One of whom?" I demanded angrily.   "You were an
afterthought," I said cruelly.   "You were never a
real member of the council- you just filled in for
Touga when he got ill."


        "Touga was my other self!" Nanami declared. 


        "And that's what this is about, isn't it?   It's
about Touga.   As usual.   You want him back.   It's
been- what?   Three years since he moved away?"


        "Three and a half.   But this isn't about Touga.  
I've grown since them."


        "You'll never outgrow Touga. You want him back, and
you're using Miki in some Machiavellian scheme to get
him.   You're risking everything, creating some scheme
to drag us all together."


        "I didn't start it!"


        "Nanami... where did you get the Sword?" I asked.  
This question had been plaguing me ever since Miki had
told me what she had given him.


        "I'll tell you tomorrow.   Dinner, my place, seven.  
Bring Miki."   Then she had the gall to hang up on me.
 I couldn't believe her nerve.


        I was left staring at the receiver, which was beeping
annoyingly at me.   The little... brat had gotten the
better of me.  No one EVER got the better of Arisagawa
Juri!  I was seething as I opened the guest room to
check on Miki.   He had been so upset earlier that I
was worried.


        Miki lay sprawled carelessly on the bed, his slender
body taking up an unbelievable amount of space.  His
chest was rising and falling in a deep, even pattern,
and I smiled at how young he looked.   Even though he
was taller then I was now, he still seemed like a
little brother.   Leaning over his bed, I brushed a
kiss against his forehead, hoping to ward of bad
dreams- or bad memories.   I wasn’t sure which.  This
time, I would protect someone who was worth it.


        I’m not sure how many sleeping pills I grabbed.   Not
more then five, I would think, but definitely more
then the reccommended dose.  I would have worked on
the brandy I kept in the cupboard, but I didn’t need
the hangover.  God, the last thing I needed on top of
everything was to get a reputation as an alcoholic. 
Still, the pills gave me a few hours of blissful
unconsciousness, a few hours where I didn’t have to
think about the whole mess my life was becoming.


        Damn Nanami anyway.   Miki and I had been free- why
did she have to drag us back into Ohtori?  None of us
would be at peace until we had the answers, yet those
answers were costly.


        If there was one thing my time on the Student Council
had taught me, it was that everything worthwhile had a
cost.   We had already paid for peace, in blood and
tears, but Nanami had yanked it away in her childish
fashion.


        All too soon, my alarm was going off, and I forced
myself to my feet, hating the bright light which
peered under the curtains.  At that moment, I would
have gladly gone to the Ends of the World if it meant
I could have had a little more sleep.


        The Ends of the World... I should know what that was,
exactly.  There is nothing worth seeing that.   No
devil’s bargain.  I sometimes think too rashly, for
there is no telling where the devil may lurk, or when
he may claim careless words as a contract.


        I got dressed quickly and was out the door before
Miki awakened.   He knew my apartment well enough not
to feel deserted; he’d often come by when Kozue had
hinted that she wanted her "privacy" for an evening.  


        The shoot was a normal one, and I went through the
routine motions, though my mind was elsewhere. 
Obviously I would have to meet with Nanami, but there
was no way I would bring Miki along.  She’d messed him
up enough for a year; she would not have the chance to
do so again.   Not if I had anything to say about it. 



        I mentally tallied what little information I had. 
Nanami was returning to her habits of the past,
causing trouble when there should be none.  She had
the Sword of Dios in her possession (how I wish Miki
had had maintained the presence of mind to take it
with him when he stormed out!), was wearing her Rose
Signet as though it meant something, and was forcing
Miki and myself to confront the fact that we had been
Duelists.   


        All and all, it didn’t add up to a very pleasant
picture.   Nanami had just left Ohtori- was it
possible that Akio was still pulling the strings,
acting the part of temptation?   


        A slight frown marred my features, and I was
immediately chastised by a variety of sources.   My
makeup artist hastily fixed the damage I had wrought,
and the photographer reminded me that time was money,
and that he thought I was a professional and oh just
STOP it Juri or the entire team would spend an entire
day on an assignment that should only take a few
hours. 


        It took entirely too long, but we finally wrapped up,
and I hurried home, relieved that it was only noon.  
I’d be able to get a few more hours of sleep.   It was
with great relief that I made it to the front of my
door.  Opening it, my eyes widened as I saw Miki
sitting tensely on the couch, apparently waiting for
me.  He focused his bluer-then-blue eyes on my
surprised face, then said something that caused my
world to start spinning again.


        "Her name was Tenjou Utena, and she brought the world
revolution," he told me.


        I then did something I never did before.   I pitched
forward in a dead faint.


        I came to lying on the couch, Miki watching me with a
guilty expression.  "I’m sorry," he said contritely. 
"I should have thought of that," he admitted to me.  
"Shock."


        "I'm fine," I assured him.


        "Don't lie to me," he said, looking at me with
wounded eyes.   "We've known each other for far too
long for that."


        I smiled at him, then squeezed his hand in apology.  
To my surprise, I felt the cool touch of metal, and I
swallowed a gasp before it came to life.   Miki didn't
wear rings on his hands; he was too practical a
person.   The last time he had worn a ring had been...


        He raised his hand to confirm what I had feared. 


        "I once read a book, an English book, by C.S. Lewis. 
 Did you ever read the Chronicles of Narnia?" he asked
me in a dreamy tone.   His eyes were vague and I
wondered where his attention was.


        "I read them a long time ago," I answered.


        "Remember that part where Aslan says, 'Once a King or
Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia?"


        "Vaguely."   I couldn't, for the life of me, follow
his train of thought.


        "I think being a Duelist is something like that.  
It's not a job, something you can quit.   It's
something you ARE."  His fingers toyed with the Rose
signet on his hand, and I was a little amazed that it
still fit him after all these years.   


        "Miki... can't you let go?" I practically begged him.
  Please, let me protect him, I prayed to a God I
wasn't even sure I believed in.


        His eyes were determined, and he shook his head.  
"Juri, we've stagnated.  You and I -we're almost
frozen in time.  Neither of us has done anything
except what we were suppose to.  Whatever happened to
our dreams?"


        "We're each where we wanted to be," I reminded him.


        "It's too pat.   Neither of us had to work for it.  
It was as though it was given to us on a silver
platter, and we never for a second questioned why it
all came so easily.   Duelists don't just follow the
common path.   We're unique, and powerful.   It's
almost as if we were being handed a conciliation
prize."


        I thought for a second.   I had modeled all through
high school, and Miki had always been a brilliant
student.   Our current careers were exactly what
people would have expected us to be- Miki would soon
begin to teach math on the university level, and my
face was famous enough that I had to wear sunglasses
if I didn't want to be recognized.   "You're right.  
I'm not happy.  But there's little to do about that."


        Miki smiled at me, and my breath caught.   It was as
though I was seeing him with new eyes, and the memory
of changes came upon me.


        Since the Duels, he had grown up.   At eighteen, he
was finally an adult in body as well as mind.   For
the first time I was aware of how far I had to tilt my
head up whenever I wanted to meet his eyes, how his
voice had deepened into a pleasant tenor, how his face
had refined into that of a man.   He wasn't my kohai
anymore; he was my equal.


        Miki seemed unaware of the revelation I was
experiencing.   "Yes, you can.   Take back your normal
self," he encouraged, opening his hand.


        In his palm was the Rose Signet that had been mine.


        "Where did you get that?" I whispered, my thoughts
still jumbled together.   In the last twenty-four
hours the safe world I had grown accustomed to had
changed dramatically, and even Miki, whom I had always
been comfortable with, had taken on an aura of the
unknown.


        "I'm sorry.   I went through your jewelry box- it was
buried at the bottom.   The WAYYYY bottom.   I never
knew you had so much jewelry."   I could tell from his
tone that he was trying to tease me.


        I reached out, feeling unsteady.  The second I
thought it, I felt a flash of... something: an emotion,
a feeling, a sense of being.   This was what I had
been searching for, and all the time it had been right
before me.   


"Take back the real me," I murmured.   "Take back my
true self."   


The ring slid easily onto my finger, and felt right
there.   I was Arisagawa Juri, a Duelist.  "Sub Rosa,"
I murmured.


        Miki nodded his head, showing his appreciation.  
"Latin.  Under the Rose."


        "Somewhere where we’ll always be," I said.  "They
used to have roses on Catholic Confessionals.  Going
to confession was always ‘Sub Rosa.’  Will you be my
confidant?" 


        "As I have always been," he murmured.


        "It’s time.   The revolution has finally come, for
our eyes have finally been unveiled."


        "Where to now?" he asked.


        "Where else?   We follow the path that Utena has
taken before us."


        "But where is she?"


        I wavered.   I would be meeting Nanami, but did I
really want to let Miki get involved?


        He stood and looked down on me.   "Juri... you’re
hiding something.   I can see it."


        He knew me too well.   "Nanami arranged a meeting
with me."


        "With us," he corrected.


        "What?"


        "Nanami gave me the Sword of Dios.   She’s not going
to let go now. She means for both of us to be
involved."


        I lowered my eyes.  "Miki..."


        "You trust me as your confidant, but won’t you trust
me to judge for myself?"


        "Yes, I trust you..."


        "Then we go.   What time, and where?"


        "Seven, at her place."


        "I’ll meet you here at six thirty.  We’ll drive over
together."


        Then he hugged me briefly, and left the room.  I
watched him go, wondering.


        When I was young, I always claimed not to believe in
miracles.


        I've learned, though.   


        Utena, I've learned.   I do believe in miracles.   My
problem was that I sought the wrong meaning; a miracle
is something that inspires awe and wonder, not
something that is impossible.


        You were my miracle, Utena.   Won't you come back to
me?


END PART TWO
Up Next: 
Part Three: Scales of Mystery
Nanami (shhhh, Alan.... I'll be good!)