From: "Timerunner" ===== Prologue It seemed like nothing had changed; like nothing could change in the little greenhouse we called our school. The sun still shone every day; bright, surrounded by a field of white and blues early in the day, orange and framed by lesser shades of oranges and reds in the afternoon. Students still milled into school, filling the air with light conversation in their wake. The bells still tolled, and the impossibly tall tower that housed them still cast its shadow across the fields, across the courtyards, across the forest that lay in the heart of the campus. It seemed like nothing had ever changed here, in Ohtori Academy. There was no trace of change, of transformation. There seemed no sign that we lived in the shadow of a revolution. In the Shadow of Revolution Act I Part 1 - One - We were the chick, and the world was our egg. But none of us ever wanted to leave, to break the shell; none of us seemed to know that there was an Outside to the Inside we had spent our lives in. It never seemed important before, at least, not to me -- at the moment the most important thing to me was hurrying to class without ruining my meticulously arranged hair. Politely I responded to greetings of 'Good morning'; I nodded at the customary references to the fine weather we were having. The weather was always fine, except during days when no one felt like having fine weather. I'd noticed this before, but never thought to bring it up. Perhaps I should have recognized those thoughts as a sign, long before the others knew about the way I was different from all the rest. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Wakaba. Shinohara Wakaba. That is my name. It has been my name for as long as I can remember, just as I know I have had parents for as long as I can remember. But I can't remember the last time I've been home, and it makes me wonder if I've ever been home at all, sometimes. It's the oddest thing, I know -- of course I'd been home, otherwise, it wouldn't be home, now, would it? The bell sounded and I made onto school grounds in the nick of time. I'd never been late before, and it would have been a shame to tarnish such a spotless record. Had I ever been absent? I couldn't recall, and neither could anyone else -- so did it matter in the end? No, it didn't, I told myself -- but I didn't believe it. It disturbed me to think that something could cease to exist if it ceased to be remembered. But why did it matter? In the end, why did it matter? The teacher scraped her lecture onto the blackboard as I idly waited for the bell to ring, even though we were only halfway through an hour-long class. Amid English personal pronouns and tenses and conjugation I swept my gaze across the classroom. My eyes failed to rest upon any single face for very long. I felt like I was looking at a hastily-drawn crowd scene; broad, charcoal strokes seemed to fill in whole figures, without thought for outline or boundary. Uniforms conveyed sex but not much else, and even that blurred in the distinctions my mind refused to make for anyone in the room. Did anyone else look over me and find my face filled in, my features drawn in a few sparse lines? Did anyone else harbor the secret, shameful fear that she was not the main character in the story of her own life? That somewhere in our midst, someone else was living the story this place, this time was meant to tell? Was anyone else afraid that the story had already played out, and we lived on merely for the story's denouement? Then my eyes fell on him. Why had I never noticed him before? He seemed to listen intently to the teacher, but only for the sake of listening; even watching him from the outside I could feel his mind wandering, beyond the confines of the classroom. His uniform was a deep blue, bordered in red, and his pink hair seemed to bring me to the brink of remembering something that had hidden itself in my mind, so deeply as to leave only the faintest trace, the vaguest feeling. He wore a white signet ring on his finger the insignia of which I could not make out... Perhaps the school insignia? And the scent of roses... I could have sworn I smelled the perfume of roses whenever he was around. What was his name? Mikage. Mikage Souji. He had joined the class only a week or so ago, and it was said that he was a genius -- that explained his lack of interest in the subject. Everyone in class admired him, and he would have probably been popular if he wasn't always so aloof. No, that wasn't quite right. A sense of loss always hung around him, and it made him seem both fascinating and distant at the same time. I paused. Why was I only remembering these things now? It was as if they were being made up as I thought about them, like the world was in the middle of creation, like the world was being completed, even as I watched it happen. A strange thought occurred to me, yet compelling in its oddity, and some part of me felt that it was true simply because it was so strange. The world was not being completed. It was being remade. - Two - "Hello, Wakaba," she said to me as I passed her in the hallway, as she left the music room where she practiced the piano every day; she spoke to me as though we had been speaking to each other our whole lives. I knew who she was. Everyone did; it was in the nature of who she was. She was friendly in a way that made people wary of her; she was often quite polite, unfailingly so, but in such a pointed way that a part of you always asked what her motives were. Though her talent for playing the piano was renowned throughout the Academy, she was more famous for her other exploits. The way she went through her men, coldly, unflinchingly, did not deter her unending throng of suitors, inevitably always the type that would bring whispers about her lack of discrimination behind her back. Not that she was unaware of the gossip she stirred up. She reveled in it. She seemed to be looking for scandal all the time, though for what reason no one seemed to know; not even herself. "Hello, Kozue," I replied, even though I had never spoken a word to her before. We stood there, looking at each other for a moment, wondering what it was that drew our attention to each other. Then she smiled and shrugged. "Well. I see you're going to be trouble for me already." I felt my brow furrow. "What? What do you mean?" She crossed her arms in front of her. "You mean, you can't see it? Even while you look around you?" I did look at that moment, and I noticed that a small crowd had gathered around the two of us. "I still don't see what you mean." "You will," she replied. "There's a reason for everything." With that she walked off, leaving more whispers in her wake, whispers that I realized I couldn't completely make out. I stood there for a moment longer, and turned to leave. But the part of the crowd that remained still stood there, blocking my path. "Wakaba," a female classmate of mine whose name escapes me even now, asked me, "are you all right? What was that about?" "The nerve of that Kaoru," another classmate chimed, "she's only a junior but she acts like she owns the school." "Tell us what that was about, Shinohara!" yet another pleaded. "I... I don't know," I replied, and I meant it. Or at least, I thought I did; I believe that even then I somehow understood the reason. I continued walking in the direction I had meant to walk and the crowd parted in front of me. And even though the words of encouragement and support continued, not one person dared to even touch me, not even to comfort me. The table I usually sat at to have lunch never seemed more full than it did that day. I must admit, I was beginning to enjoy the attention, although a nagging thought still floated to the surface of my mind: What was this all about? I smiled as I turned my attention to the crowd, and I realized that I was not so much dividing it among the people at the table than I was simply devoting it to the group as a single entity. Why shouldn't I have? No one in particular attracted my attention. No individual drew my singular interest. Not that it really mattered to me. For the first time I could remember, I was too caught up in playing the lead role in the story of my life. - Three - "Next!" I watched from the balcony overlooking the fencing hall as the team captain made short work of yet another opponent. The sound of foil on foil sounded almost continuously from that place, and every now and then swords would glint in the sunlight that filtered in through the large windows. "Next!" I felt drawn there that particular afternoon, although I knew that the fencing team practiced nearly every day for a tournament. The Ohtori Academy fencing team always won the tournaments; that was a fact everyone took for granted. It was more of a question of who would bring the most glory to the Academy. Invariably it would always be the team captain. "Next!" This next opponent was tougher than all the others, nimbly parrying and deftly following up with ripostes. The offense shifted from one duelist to the other, back and forth, back and forth... ...But in the end, the result was inevitable. "Next!" "There is no one else left, sempai," Kozue said as she lifted her helmet, sweat glistening in the sunlight. "You've made pretty short work of all of us." The team captain took off her own helmet. "You were doing fine until the end, Kozue, but the strength in your forearm wavered a bit and you parried with the tip of your foil, instead of near the base -- that's why I was able to break through with my last lunge," Takatsuki Shiori replied. "Well, like I said, Shiori-sempai," Kozue said, "You were simply too good for all of us, even combined." "You did well, Kozue. Don't sell yourself too short now," Shiori said, laughing. "All you really need is inspiration." "Is that so?" Kozue replied, smiling. "Can you tell me what your inspiration is, Shiori-sempai?" Shiori opened her mouth to reply, but then she stopped, and turned to look up at the balcony where I was. She paused for a moment, and a strange, wondering expression crossed her face. Then she called out, "Wakaba! Come join us down here!" Before I knew what I was saying, I had already replied, "Do I have to? You both look like you could use showers!" And I was already headed down the stairs to where they were, to my surprise. "If it isn't the Onion Princess," Kozue snorted. "Put a sock in it, Kozue," I replied, to much less disbelief this time, as if I was growing more and more comfortable with my role. "Ladies, please," a new voice said, "don't start fighting on my account." "You wish, Tsuwabuki," Kozue retorted. "Getting out of middle school must've inflated your ego even more." I turned to look and saw Tsuwabuki Mitsuru standing before us, flanked by his lackeys Suzuki, Tanaka, and Yamada (whom I could never tell apart, actually). He looked rather confident in his new high school attire, which was the reason for Kozue's comment. "If one is to be treated like royalty one must act the part," he said, running his fingers through his combed blond hair. "Hello, Tsuwabuki," Shiori greeted him. "Finally decided to join the fencing team?" "I'm sorry, Shiori-sempai, but my busy schedule simply doesn't allow me to join any more extra-curricular activities," Tsuwabuki said with a bow and a flourish. "Perhaps when my schedule loosens up a bit." "Perhaps," Shiori said with a smirk. "What about you, Wakaba?" "She's too busy being captain of the kendo club to join the fencing team," said yet another voice. "And I promised her a rematch." Without thinking I turned and said, "I'll beat you this time, Keiko. Or should I call you President Sonoda?" "Please, it's too early in the campaign for that. You're embarrassing me," Keiko said, shaking her head, her pigtails swishing gently with the turn of her head. "For all I know, Mitsuru here might beat me to it." "Now, why would I want to do that?" Tsuwabuki said, producing a red rose from apparently nowhere and offering it to Keiko, who accepted it graciously. "I wouldn't want to put myself at odds with you, my dear sister." "Stop calling me that. This weird tendency of yours to imagine me your sibling is going to raise some eyebrows, especially in this hotbed of gossip," Keiko said. "Well, I've had enough of this for one day," I replied. "I'm going to the kendo hall to get in some more practice." "Afraid I might beat you again, Wakaba?" Keiko teased, and I felt my hackles rise at this. "You were lucky," I replied. "I'll be waiting for you, Keiko." "I'll be there." As I walked out, heading to my locker to retrieve the shinai I never knew I owned, I looked up at the balcony and saw Mikage standing there, watching all of us -- and it was all I could do to repress a shudder. - Four - I don't know exactly what I was thinking then, but I took the practice sword in hand, pointed at the rest of the kendo team members, and said, "Attack me." They did indeed, rather hesitantly at first, but after I'd cut down (so to speak) the first three or four people they started to charge me, determined not to make utter fools of themselves by allowing me to take the whole club down single-handedly. The less I thought about fighting, the more naturally it came to me; pretty soon it was as if I'd been practicing kendo all my life -- and for all intents and purposes, I had been. I cracked another opponent on the head -- firmly, but not enough to cause irreparable damage, and immediately sidestepped and caught the next one in the stomach. I lifted my foot and swung down, parrying a strike meant for my knee. I struck my attacker in the face with the handle of my sword, then spun around and hit the one to my rear with a thrust to the shoulder. This wasn't ordinary practice for a kendo club, but then, this was no ordinary kendo club, and I was no ordinary captain. The others were fighting for pride, I knew; I was fighting for fighting's sake. It seemed right. It seemed proper. I belonged here, and the sword belonged in my hands. "Do you still have enough left to take me on, captain?" I heard a voice behind me say, and I say Keiko standing there, in her gi and hakama, her own sword in hand. "Perhaps I'll be lucky again this time." The ever-present crowd had more than doubled in size at Keiko's arrival, and their cheers had turned into low murmurs as Keiko and I faced each other, focusing; we knew that at our level of skill, the fight would be decided in one exchange. It was no longer a question of who was better, but of who would show weakness first. We must have stood there, perfectly still but for our breathing, for over two minutes -- but to be perfectly honest, I would have been contented to stand there forever. Something in the crowd gave me a start. Then I heard Keiko's left foot shift, and I charged her. A sharp, quick strike. I felt it on my chest, on my sternum, and I cursed to myself. "A draw, then," I heard Keiko say, and I opened my eyes. While she had struck me squarely in the chest, I had landed a blow that would have split her cranium, down the middle, if we'd been using real swords. A cheer sounded, but I was displeased. I was not in the mood to pander to the crowd as Keiko was doing. I put my shinai away and wiped my brow with a towel. I had slipped, even as Keiko had slipped as well. I looked up at the crowd but couldn't find Mikage. I could have sworn he was there, watching us, watching me... It was his fault. He broke my focus. Damn him. "Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you, Wakaba," Keiko said to me, diverting her attention from the crowd for a moment. "What?" I said, a little more irritably that I would have liked. Keiko smiled, self-assuredly. "I'm always lucky." I turned away, and chuckled. "Oh, right. I forgot." - Five - Days passed, and I grew more and more comfortable with the role that life had suddenly dealt me, though I felt myself growing more and more discontented with something as time went by. The adulation that the faceless mob showered on me grew more and more wearisome, and I suspected that this was because it became easier and easier for me to obtain it. Consequently, I got asked out more and more, but the more numerous they became, the less interested I became with the whole idea, and the novelty wore off rather quickly. I soon became unable to distinguish one date from the next in my memory, and I quickly learned not to risk calling my date by name unless they'd just mentioned it, and even then I was cautious. The results of the Student Council elections came as no surprise to anybody; not even myself, which was the surprising part. Keiko, President; myself, Vice-President; Kozue, Secretary; and Shiori, Treasurer. Tsuwabuki immediately threw a party in our honor, but I wasn't in the mood. Besides, he only wanted to impress his 'dear sister', and I'd seen quite enough of that. I was also sick of the sight of Keiko. I passed the Rose Garden on the way to my locker, and saw someone inside, probably watering the plants. Or did I? I remember the place being declared off-limits to students, no doubt due to some impropriety that occurred there some time ago. But there was Mikage, speaking to someone -- I couldn't tell if he had company or he was one of those people who believed that speaking to plants was good for them. I doubted, however, than any plant would benefit from being spoken to in the tone he was using. He sounded like he was in an argument with somebody. It was none of my business, I told myself, as I made my way to my foot locker, dreading the deluge of love letters no doubt stuffed in with my shoes. There was none. Inside was a single white envelope, sealed with wax, and upon it lay a white signet ring, inscribed upon it a single, pink rose in bloom. My first letter from the End of the World. - First Interlude - "Inside, this world goes on as it always has, night and day, day and night," Shiori began, taking her place beside us in the elevator. "Outside lies the power to bring the world revolution," Kozue said, her hand lightly touching the elevator walls. "Between the inside and the outside lies the fragile shell of this world," I intoned, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Break the world's shell," Keiko finished, standing upright in the center, "for the power to revolutionize the world." - Six - "I assume you've all received the letters?" Keiko said casually, seeming to pay more attention to the long-stemmed red rose she held delicately under her nose than to the matter at hand. She had taken to wearing her hair unbound, and it fell long and flowing down to her shoulders. She stretched out in her seat, reveling in her new, white uniform which was proper of a member of the Student Council. In fact, we all wore uniforms for this occasion, our first official Council Meeting, and I was feeling quite uncomfortable, unaccustomed as I was to wearing those green pants; I thought the top was a bit much, also, what with the tassels and epaulets and everything. I stood up from my own chair, unwilling to stay in one position while in that outfit for too long, and though I told myself I would get used to it, I was beginning to realize that perhaps my role didn't involve becoming too comfortable with the uniform. I drew solace from the fact that unlike Keiko I had kept my old hairstyle, in an effort to leave some part of me unchanged. My distraction did not last very long before it was interrupted. "Indeed," Shiori said, placing her own warm yellow rose under scrutiny. "Indeed," Kozue said, nodding, her blue rose resting on the pages of her log book as she took down the minutes of the meeting. "What do you think, Keiko? Of course we received the letters," I spat, casting my own green rose down on the glass table as I raised my left hand, displaying the signet on my ring finger. "Stop asking these useless questions and get to the point." Still I surprised myself with my new behavior, though now my shock seemed relegated to a quiet corner of my mind, the part of me that claimed sanity in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the part of me that was largely ignored by the rest of me. "That's the problem with you, Wakaba," Keiko said, taking a long sniff of her rose, "ever since we were children you showed very little appreciation for pleasantries." "Ever since we were children," Kozue repeated, continuing her note-taking. Ever since we were children? My mind seemed to reject this statement like the body rejects a powerful drug the first time it is ingested -- it turned my stomach, and an unpleasant taste began to spread in my mouth. Yet I continued in my role like a method actor, seeming reluctant to break disbelief until some invisible director yelled "Cut!" to mark the end of the scene. There was no such end in sight. "Unlike you, Keiko, I recognize formalities for what they are." "No, you don't. That's the unfortunate part," Keiko replied, still apparently unable to extract her attention away from the flower. "There is one more 'formality' we must concern ourselves with." "And that is?" Shiori said, placing her rose in the empty vase, having lost interest in it much faster than Keiko. Keiko idly called into the archway leading to the meeting area, "You may reveal yourself now." A young man of thirteen or fourteen -- it wasn't too clear which -- stepped out of the shadows. He was thin, pale-skinned, perhaps even sickly in appearance, and his short, straight hair was of a shade of brown similar to my own. He was dressed in a red version of our uniform, except with two breast pockets instead of one, and different epaulets from ours, lavender in color. "Good day," he greeted, in the clear, musical tone of a young boy's yet-unbroken voice. "Good day," Kozue said, not so much as a greeting than as a matter of reiteration as she continued writing. "Who are you?" Shiori said, raising an eyebrow. "A formality," Keiko said, chuckling, "from the End of the World." He walked over to me and bowed, almost imperceptibly. "My name is Chida Mamiya," he spoke, smiling a beautiful, guileless smile that reminded me of a part of myself that I hadn't realized I'd forgotten. "I've been waiting for you, Miss Shinohara. I am the Rose Bride. From this day forward, I belong to you." - Seven - Mamiya and I began our walk home together, in silence. The trip to the new Student Council quarters was not long, though only Shiori and I really used them; Kozue and Keiko both had family-owned houses on campus. Since Shiori tended to keep to herself, we were not as close as we pretended to be in public, even though we lived across the hall from each other. She had gone ahead, in fact, uninterested as she was with my problems about living with the Rose Bride. I'd complained loudly, then. I had thrown the crystal vase meant to hold my rose over the edge of the Council meeting place and had made threats and gestures, as if to draw my sword. But Keiko calmly crossed her arms in front of her, her hair blowing in the high winds, and told me this: "If you don't like it, then I suggest you lose your next duel for the power to bring the world revolution." I decided I could live with the trouble after that. The ground was damp, with newly-fallen late-afternoon rain; odd, as I didn't recall any rain falling while we were in the open-air meeting place. But I shrugged, recognizing it as 'just one of those things' that seem to happen in Ohtori Academy. Mamiya stayed quiet for most of the trip, though I could see from the corner of my eye that every so often he would look at me and smile, for no apparent reason. I suppose it should have made me feel better, should have made me happy, since no one had smiled at me so innocently for... as long as I could remember at that moment. But it only made me more wary than before. My room was quite large, and apparently the double bunk was placed there in anticipation of today's events. The room had a deceptively orderly look because I didn't have enough things to make it look cluttered. No, that wasn't right; someone had arranged everything while I was out. I turned to Mamiya with a questioning gaze but all he did was smile at me. That smile. It was starting to unnerve me. I already had trouble with the idea that we would be sleeping in the same room from now on. I didn't want to deal with the thought of him smiling cheerfully at me from beneath my bed, since I had chosen to stay on the top bunk. We didn't speak any more that night -- he coughed quietly every now and then, and apparently he had decided not to burden me with the reasons behind his condition (for which I was secretly grateful); and as for myself, I didn't particularly feel like 'sharing my feelings'. We had eaten in silence, and I headed to the bathroom to get dressed, when I realized he was getting undressed in front of me. My new personality did not allow for shock, or even surprise, even as I reeled inwardly at his lack of concern, or modesty for that matter. I felt myself emit a grunt as I entered the bathroom, washed up, got dressed, and turned in for the night. I imagined his smile burning into the back of my neck as I lay in my pillow. It grew twisted and even more disturbing in my imagination, seemingly contorting at every stifled cough I heard coming from below me. I buried my head under my pillow, but as the coughs died down, they grew louder and louder in my head, Mamiya's smiling visage now resembling a sort of death mask in my mind's eye. I bolted upright, threw off my blanket, and looked out over the side of my bed. He was asleep. And yet sleep had given a different quality to his expression, his closed eyes and regular breathing granting the innocence and naivete and guilelessness of his face something that was needed to complete it -- serenity. The moon was waxing, that night, and it cast an ethereal light into the room. Mamiya's face seemed to glow, looking more full of life now than it did under the harsh light of the sun and the unnatural cast of the room's lamps. It was like looking at the face of a dream, a beautiful wisp of a dream lying asleep before me, living, breathing in the same room as me, and I seemed to be suspended in that moment after waking but before the passing of the dream's memory... I suddenly felt unworthy. The signet ring seemed to burn into my finger. I remembered all those faces in the crowd from the other day, the impression they left on me so fleeting, so temporary, and I realized that what I hated about those faces most of all was that I might have found my own face there, lost in the mob of the ordinary, the unremarkable, the transitory. And now I shared the room with one who bore the face of eternity. I pulled the covers over my face and wept. - Eight - Another love letter. Another insipid, uninspired love letter slipped into that most predictable of places -- my foot locker. Another maudlin correspondence sent to interrupt the regular routine of my day, already made miserable by my lack of sleep the night before. No, that wasn't quite right. The letter fit into my daily routine quite perfectly. Too perfectly. It irritated me that I had grown to dislike something I had always dreamed of before. Before? Before what? There was nothing before this. There was nothing before today. There was not even a trace to indicate anything came the moment I lived in. Except for Mamiya's face. In irritation I tore the envelope that previously held the letter into shreds. I opened the letter itself and read it. It was some pathetic drivel about the writer dancing with me in his dreams. What was his name? Kazami Tatsuya, it said. Why was that familiar to me? Was it familiar to me? Why should it have been? I stared at the letter and looked at the handwriting, familiar as a hidden memory, familiar -- No! I clutched the letter and walked to the bulletin board, where I tacked it up and walked away. A crowd had gathered behind me, no doubt to read whatever I had put up on the board. I didn't care. Or perhaps... Perhaps I wanted someone to remember whatever I had forgotten. Mamiya stood there in front of me, blocking my way. The smile was still on his face, though only a mild one, barely perceptible except in his eyes. "Please don't worry, Miss Wakaba. Someone still remembers." I had a million questions after that, all racing for a chance to be spoken first, but the one question that did come out was "Who?" He shook his head. "If that person truly remembers, then you'll know who it is very soon." He walked off, leaving me standing in the corridor alone. I stomped off to the kendo hall, grabbing my shinai on the way there. I needed to hit someone. Anyone. "You! Shinohara!" I simply continued to practice, not bothering to face the newcomer. "Don't you know that coming into the kendo hall uninvited is a very, very stupid thing to do?" "What's stupid is posting Tatsuya's note up like that on the bulletin board." "What I do with the notes I receive is my business. That stupid note..." I paused to laugh. "I meant to say, that unique note seemed amusing to me. I felt the need to share the source of my amusement with others. I don't see any problem with that, do you, Mister...?" "Mikage." I gave a start. "Mikage..." I slowly turned to face him. He stood there, pointing his own shinai at me. He shook visibly, and his dark eyes flashed with anger -- but I caught myself looking closer, and I saw that the anger for what I had done to Tatsuya did not go deep; as I saw further into his eyes, I saw something his rage change into something else, and it mirrored something inside me even as his eyes held my own image within them. "I challenge you to a duel." "A duel?" I said, and I truly, for a brief moment, had no idea what he was talking about. My disorientation did not last long. "I see. Then you must be the duelist mentioned in the letters from the End of the World." My jaw hurt, voicing its protest for being forced to mouth words of which I didn't know the meaning. I saw Mikage's own jaw clench and unclench several times, and he tried to swallow before he spoke. "Duelist?" he said, and his voice trembled as his face contorted to express the ignorance his eyes did not seem to share. "What..." He paused and swallowed hard. "What do you mean?" You know very well what I mean, I thought, and on the other hand I have no idea. I have no idea what I mean. I have no idea even as I hear myself say this: "I'll meet you at the dueling forest, then, after class hours." "The forest no one is allowed to enter?" he said, and as he mouthed the words my mind thought them at the same time. What did I mean? I knew, and at the same time I didn't. Perhaps it didn't matter that I did not know -- I realized I would in time, and there was nothing either Mikage or myself could do about it. "The very same." I left and made my way to the arena, each step making me more and more certain of something I could not quite grasp. But how can anyone be certain of what they do not know? - Nine - I stood in the center of the arena, clutching at my shinai, and I marveled at the castle floating in the sky above, suspended on a foundation I could not see; it gave me the distinct impression that it was me who was upside down, staring at the upright castle; I was the reflection in an upside down mirror. "So the duels have begun," Mamiya said quietly. "What are the duels?" I demanded, spinning to face him. "What are they for?" "The power to bring the world revolution," he replied. "I've heard that before, and I don't even know what that means!" I cried. "Why would I even want to bring the world revolution?" "Everyone wants to bring the world revolution. It is the natural instinct of humanity to change its surroundings to fit its desires," he said. "But what about those who prefer things to stay the way they are?" I asked. "They want to bring the world revolution as well, because everyone knows things will never remain the way they are, although we like to believe they will." He smiled and walked up to me, dressed in his deep red uniform, a delicate golden crown on his forehead. "Miss Shinohara?" "Yes?" He regarded me intently, still wearing the smile on his face. "I have a small question to ask you. A small, trifling, personal thing." I said nothing as I looked at him, as I tried to pierce the smile on his face as he lifted a graceful hand to my cheek. He traced the line of my jaw with his fingers, and a chill ran down my spine. "Are you prepared to lose this duel? You should know you cannot win." I slapped his hand away. "How dare you! I am the captain of the kendo club! That alone is enough. And on top of that, with you at my side, I have the power to call upon the Sword of Dios!" "Nevertheless," Mamiya said calmly, slowly lowering his hand, "you are simply not fated to win this duel. The letters from the End of the World said so." "Enough!" I slapped him. "You are the Rose Bride, and you are engaged to me!" "Only for now," Mamiya said, holding his cheek, and almost imperceptibly his smile took on a menacing air. "Your challenger has arrived." Mikage stepped into the arena, looking at the sky, at the inverted castle. He carried with him a shinai, and I found myself scoffing at his audacity in doing so. I thought I caught him glancing at Mamiya once or twice, but I wasn't quite sure. "What is this place?" he asked, and the note of wondering in his voice grated in my ears, grated because it sounded so false. "Oh, you've never seen the castle before?" I said with a sneer, even though I hadn't, either, not until that evening. "Some would say it's an illusion, a trick of the light." Some? Who? "But it isn't visible from outside the..." Suddenly he paused and clutched at his head. "No..." "What is it?" I asked. "Have you decided to back out?" I hoped he did. I certainly didn't want to have to duel him, no matter how confidently I seemed to be behaving. "NO! Can't you see?" he screamed, and I staggered back. "Can't you see how pointless all of this is?" I was about open my mouth, to respond in typically snide fashion, but then I stopped myself. My words seemed so hollow, so empty. I clenched my teeth and followed him with my eyes, hoping he could read in them what I could not speak out loud because the part of me that had blustered and bragged, the part of me that I did not recognize, would not let me. "Silence," I finally heard myself say. "Mamiya, prepare us." Mamiya walked up to me and placed a green rose in my breast pocket. Green? Why green? I wondered. Them Mamiya turned to Mikage and placed in his breast pocket a white rose. "Good luck," he said, and with this he turned to face me, and his eyes taunted me, dared me to slap him. It was my place to do so. I was expected to do so. And so I did not. Instead I waited for him to begin the chant to draw out the Sword of Dios from within him. - The Prayer to Dios - Reprise - Mamiya closed his eyes, and clasped his hands to his chest. "Rose of the noble castle that hangs in the sky above, power of Dios that sleeps within, sword of revolution, sword of the ends of the world..." He spread his arms wide, and cried, "Awaken, heed the call of your master and arise..." - Ten - Both Mikage and I shielded our eyes from the blinding light that erupted from Mamiya's chest. I chuckled, and confidently strode to Mamiya, and as he bent over backwards I caught him in my arms, as if we were partners in a dance. "Grant me the power to bring the world revolution!" I shouted, and in one motion grasped at the sword handle and pulled. Except there was no sword. "What?" I gasped, and suddenly the script in my mind had run out. There were no more lines, there was no more prompter, screaming in my mind's ear. The role I had been playing vanished, disappearing like a wisp of smoke. I dropped Mamiya onto the ground and grabbed my shinai. "Don't you see? Don't you get it? The power to revolutionize the world is DEAD!" Mikage cried, and the tightening in my chest told me his words were true. "Lies!" Mamiya screamed, and for the first time I saw the smile on his face shatter, replaced by a scowl of such intense fury that I had to avert my eyes. "You will defeat Wakaba, and you will claim the power to revolutionize the world for yourself!" "He will not!" I exclaimed and charged Mikage, and thought of nothing, thought nothing for roles, thought nothing of Rose Brides, though nothing of the power to bring the world revolution -- and I let the sword and its movements take over. And the duel was on. - First Chorus - Epiphany - I press the attack dreams of fire dreams of light dreams of sun and sky and endless blue he parries dreams of green dreams of falling leaves dreams of yielding branch and bough and ripostes dreams of reflection dreams of luster dreaming on the edge of a finely crafted sword I feint and counterattack dreams of stone dreams of cliffs dreams of harsh rock rubbing against shredded palm on and on the duel goes dreams of blue dreams of dreams dreams of ripples on an endless surface back and forth dreams of morning but sooner dreams of stirring or later stirring someone stirring has rousing to waking win WAKE UP! - Eleven - ...And white petals flew into the clear blue sky, carried by the high winds over the forest below, over the courtyards, over the garden, over the school buildings, over and out of the walls of Ohtori Academy. I walked toward where Mikage was and I stood behind him. "Well, now..." he said, still not facing me. "It seems that the End of the World isn't infallible in this world anymore." "What do you mean?" I asked. "What is happening? What is happening to all of us?" "I... don't know," he said, turning to face me, and he regarded me with those deep violet eyes. "I honestly don't know. Do you know what you've done?" "I won." "You weren't supposed to win." "So what? What does that mean?" I asked. "I have a feeling we are all going to find out very soon." He smiled at me, and he turned to go. "Gather up your Bride, before he hurls himself off the edge." I grabbed Mamiya, who was sobbing, palms bloody from clutching his broken crown. "He promised..." he cried, "he promised me..." "Stop that," I said, and now I felt the role was mine to make up as I went along. "Behave yourself. Remember that you are still engaged to me." "For whatever that's worth," I heard Mikage call out as he descended the stairs. - Second Interlude - "Inside, this world goes on as it always has, night and day, day and night," Shiori began, taking her place beside us in the elevator. "Outside lies the power to bring the world revolution," Kozue said, her hand lightly touching the elevator walls. "Between transience and eternity lies the fragile shell of this world," I intoned, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Break the world's shell," Keiko finished, standing upright in the center, "for the power to revolutionize the world." - Twelve - "You won," Keiko said, standing in the middle of the meeting place, staring at me. "So I did," I said, answering the question that her statement was not. "The letters said you wouldn't win," Shiori said. She frowned as she held her chin in her hand, as she rested her elbows on the coffee table. "The letters said," Kozue repeated, writing everything down in her now-ubiquitous logbook. "So they did," I replied. "Don't be flippant," Keiko said, brushing her hair away from her face with her fingers. "Remember that these duels exist to determine who has the chance to bring the world revolution. You should have lost." "I didn't. That ought to tell you something, shouldn't it?" I said, shrugging. "Tell us, then, what it's supposed to mean," Keiko said. "Tell us," Kozue repeated. "Simple," Mikage said as he exited the elevator. "The power to bring the world revolution is dead." "What are you doing here? This place is for Student Council use only!" Shiori said, rising to her feet. "By whose authority?" Mikage asked. "By the authority of the End of the World," was Keiko's response. "That last duel just proved to all of you what the authority of the End of the World is worth these days," Mikage said, chuckling. "Or what the duels are worth, for that matter." "Silence!" cried Keiko, and indeed, for a few moments there was no sound but that of the high winds. "For all I know, this slip in the plan is all your fault. I will not stand by and listen to you tell us that the duels are worthless, especially when you yourself lost a duel you were supposed to win." "And especially," I said, "when the duels aren't useless at all." Even Mikage gave a start at this, and stared at me. "What do you mean? You saw what happened. The Sword of Dios did not materialize. The written plan of the End of the World was not carried out. How can you say that the duels still mean anything?" "Because," I said, picking up my green rose from my table, "by defeating you and by proving the End of the World wrong, I realized that the power to bring the world revolution is not dead, nor does it lie outside the shell of this world." I looked at my rose and I smiled. Suddenly I realized how strange it was, a green rose. I touched it lightly, brushing my fingers over its soft green petals. "There is no more need to bring this world revolution." I gestured, using the flower to point at something beyond the confines of the balcony. Behind us stood the tower, still towering above the rest of Ohtori Academy, as it always had. There it gleamed, pure white in the light of the morning sun, casting its shadow across the ground. Beyond its shadow was the forest, the gateway to the arena, silent in the absence of any duels, for revolution or otherwise. And beyond that... "I see nothing," Keiko said, squinting to see past the vast grounds of Ohtori. "No," I said. "Look harder." "I don't see what you mean," Shiori said. "No, wait... what's that dark shape?" Kozue asked, having put down her logbook and joined us. There it was, a dark silhouette on the horizon itself, easily mistaken for a low cloud, its ruins easily confused for a passing shadow, or sunlight playing over water's surface like-- "A trick of the light..." Mikage breathed, finally comprehending. I smiled, placed the rose under my nose, and took a deep breath. "The revolution has already taken place. The duels will continue. I bid all of you to try your hand at winning the Rose Bride from me." "To bring the world revolution?" Keiko asked. "No," I replied, gazing at the ruins of the castle in the sky. "To bring it realization." - Thirteen - What did I mean? What was the power to realize the revolution? I suspected that Mamiya knew not the slightest thing about this new power, this new purpose of the duels their creator did not intend. Nor, I mused, was it necessary that he did. What was the End of the World? I asked myself as I drank the tea I had prepared for myself. I had been sitting alone in the dining room of the East Dormitory, as I had every now and then for the past few days since I had defeated Mikage. Mamiya no longer joined me for meals. He had tried to move his belongings to a different room in the building, but I stopped him. He was my Bride, after all. I knew I didn't fully understand what that meant, but it didn't really matter. Understanding is not a requirement for knowing. He had grown sicklier as the days went by, and soon he never left the room for anything. I had to bring his food up to the room, and even then it was a chore trying to get him to eat anything. It would not do to have him die on me just yet, I thought, with a hint of morbidity that I never thought I had in me. Someone had robbed me of my script, it seemed, but not of my role. I was still Vice-President of the Student Council; I was still the center of attention wherever I went (unless Keiko was around -- but then it didn't really bother me); I still received love letters in my foot locker. But ever since my invisible benefactor had left me to ad lib my part of the story from that point on, I decided to make the most of it. It was in the middle of one particular date -- with Tatsuya, in fact -- that I began to wonder how I ever grew weary of the attention I found myself showered with. I sat next to him in one of the school's cherry tree groves near the end of spring, and as I held his hand and listened to him sing to me, slightly out of tune (but I didn't mind one bit), that I realized how different he looked from everyone else. Or how different everyone looked from everyone else. Am I making any sense? I suppose not. But what does it matter? The duels started to become the farthest things from my mind. Schoolwork suddenly (and inconveniently) became very, very real to me. Fortunately, Kozue was a big help especially with math (which I must admit is one of my weak points). We'd meet in the music room to study together every now and then. I'd never known Kozue to be as friendly as she was being to me then. I could not detect even a hint of her earlier cunning, and I had begun to think I had made a new friend. Shiori had become distant after our last meeting, and although she would still fence with Kozue during regular practice, she seemed to withdraw into herself more and more as spring slowly turned into summer, though not in the was Mamiya did. She simply grew more distant, more preoccupied with something she would not share with anyone, not even Kozue. Tsuwabuki, who was oblivious of everything that had transpired, still showered his attentions on his 'sister', Keiko, and I felt a little hostility from him now and then, although I think it was more due to his loyalty to Keiko than anything else. Keiko, on her part, carried on with her men, often going out (and most probably doing things I would rather not think of) with multiple men at once. It seemed almost desperate to me, as if she was trying to drown something out of her mind with all her distractions. And Mikage? Distant as always. But although he and I did not exchange a word with each other since after the meeting, I knew, and seeing him always reminded me, that always weighing on his mind was the offer I gave to everyone present, the thing that had subdued us even as it liberated us. A duel, for the power to awaken the world. - Fourteen - "Mamiya," I said, whispering into his ear as I tried to wake him. He stirred, and as he opened his eyes he focused them on me. Then he shut them tightly. "Leave me alone." "Mamiya," I said softly, "I know I've been harsh with you all this time. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing." Or why I was doing it, for that matter. He sighed, letting out a slow, shuddering breath. "I know." I gave a start. "You do?" He nodded, even as he kept his eyes closed. "It was all part of the promise... You all acted the way you did because of the promise." Tears seeped out of the corners of his eyelids, squeezed out because of how forcefully he kept them closed. "And now the promise is broken. You're all free to act and speak and do as you please." He laughed softly, weakly, painfully and it was a terrible thing to hear, terrible for its lack of any mirth or joy. "And now I have no more reason to live. If you can call this living, that is." I looked out the window, at the early morning sky. "I've always thought that looking for a reason to live is a pretty pointless exercise." "That's easy for you to say. You aren't frail and bedridden." "And neither were you," I replied. He paused. "That's because of the promise from the End of the World." He coughed, quietly. "And now the promise is broken." "You keep saying that," I said, running my fingers through his damp hair. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe the End of the World no longer has the power to make that promise in the first place?" His forehead was cold with sweat. I stood up to get a towel to wipe his perspiration with. "What... what do you mean?" he asked as he tried to sit up. "Lie back. Don't strain yourself," I said, sitting down next to him and wiping his forehead and neck with the towel. "What I mean is that since the End of the World seems to lack the power to do anything in this world anymore, or at least the power you and Mikage have been hinting at since the day I met you," and I said that last part with a smirk, "then maybe you recovered from your illness on your own." He paused, closing his eyes slowly this time. "Maybe," he finally said. "But I had a reason to keep living then. I thought Mikage would beat you..." I chuckled. "That's your reason for living?" He laughed, too, and this time it reflected in his eyes. "You make it sound ridiculous." "I tell it like I hear it." He shook his head. "If he had beaten you, and had carried out the plan to the letter like he should have, then he would have brought the world revolution. That was my reason." "I still think it's a pretty flimsy reason," I said, stroking his cheek lightly. He snorted. "Fine. Then tell me what makes for a good reason to live." I thought about this for a moment. Then I kissed him. It was a soft kiss, a light touching of the lips, ever-so-slightly parted. I closed my eyes as I kissed him, and I felt him doing the same, after his initial shock. Then I slowly drew back, and opened my eyes. I smiled as I saw him, eyes still closed, chin slightly forward, lips still slightly parted. Then he opened his eyes and blushed. "What..." he began, but I put a finger to his lips. "Now, now," I said, "you're not healthy enough. I'm afraid your frail constitution simply wouldn't be able to take it." I shook my head teasingly. "I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do for you now. A shame, really. Goodbye." I stood up and headed for the door. "Wakaba?" he called out, and I paused at the doorway. "Yes?" He faced me, and he smiled. The face of eternity was gone, it seemed, replaced by something more immediate, more fleeting... and the oddest thing occurred to me. I felt his smile was all the more sweeter because of its transience. "I suppose I'll have to get better, then, don't I?" And for the moment, I felt myself smiling back. - End Part 1 -