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
Utena Fanfiction Repository: http://www.thekeep.org/~harnums/UFR

Takes place during and shortly after Episodes 31 and 32.  
Spoilers for up until that point in the series.

                             * * *

                              ONE

                             * * *


He was in the bedroom studying when the doorbell rang.  Probably
Kozue, getting home from her date, wanting him to come down to 
the door so he'd be forced to watch the send-off; she'd done that
before.
     
     Miki frowned sourly, and stuck his nose back into the math
textbook.  No more, he'd decided, after his last duel--he was 
through with letting her control, through with letting how she 
chose to live her life choose how he led his.

     The doorbell rang again, insistently.  He closed the book
with a slap and went to the window that overlooked the front 
door.  He pulled the curtains wide, opened it, and stuck his head
out into the night.  He _knew_ it couldn't be anyone other than
Kozue, this late; past ten, on a school night.

     It wasn't Kozue.
     
     He was apologizing even before he finished opening the door.  
"Sorry, Nanami-kun; I was occupied."  He paused, looked her up 
and down, and blinked.  "Hey, what's wrong?  You look..."

     Nanami had her school satchel in one hand, what looked like
her gym bag in the other, and was wearing about the most hangdog,
miserable, defeated expression he'd ever seen on her.  "Can I
come in?" she asked, in a tone of voice that made it clear she 
was expecting him to say no, and possibly release dogs to chase
her away as well.

     "Sure, sure."  He moved away from the door.  "You okay?"
     
     She stepped inside, bent down and put her bags on the floor
of the hallway, near the closet.  He closed the door behind her,
and stood over her as she took off her shoes, clasping and
unclasping his hands.

     After perhaps half a minute, when she still hadn't said
anything, he coughed and repeated his question.

     "No," Nanami replied.  She straightened up.
     
     Confused, but by nature inclined to be hospitable, Miki 
opened the hall closet and indicated the shoe rack, with slippers
for guests placed atop it.  Nanami put her shoes in one of the
pigeon-holes, and took a pair of slippers.  Then she picked up 
her bags again and just stood there in the hallway, looking small
and lost.

     "Hey..."  Hesitantly, he touched her shoulder, half-
expecting her to flinch away.  She didn't.  "Nanami-kun, what's
wrong?  Did something happen?"  He studied her slack face and
hollow eyes.  A plethora of horrible thoughts about just what
could have traumatized Nanami, who had always seemed close to an 
unstoppable force to him, began to swim through his head.  "Do
you want me to call your brother--"
     
     "No!" she snapped.  Then, quieter, "No... no, I don't want
that."  She looked from side to side; away from him, then back to
him, then away from him again.  Finally, she settled for staring
at her feet, seemingly rooted to the hallway carpet.  "Miki-kun,
can I stay with you tonight?"

     Though phrased entirely innocently, in an almost childlike
tone of voice, it brought a faint blush to his face.  "If you 
need to.  But... won't you tell me what's wrong?"  He glanced
pointedly at the bags.  "Have you run away from home?"

     It took a moment for her to answer.  "I guess so."
     
     Miki touched a finger to his chin.  The only thing that
could have made Nanami leave home, and part from Touga, was...
well, Touga.  He knew--oh, he knew very well--that the President
had been up to strange things recently, working in close concert
with the Chairman; with the Ends of the World, the intriguing
Ohtori Akio.  For the Revolution of the World.

     "Why did you run away?"
     
     She scowled at him.  "I don't want to talk about it."
     
     Miki shrugged, and took his hand off her shoulder.  "Okay.
I'll be here to listen if you want to, though."  

     After a moment, the scowl faded; she looked sad and lost
again.  "Thanks, Miki."

     He put his hand lightly on her back, between her 
shoulder-blades--her back muscles, he noted, were tight with 
tension--and guided her down the hallway towards the kitchen.
"Come on.  I'll make you some tea; you look like you could use 
it."

     He flicked the lightswitch on the wall as they entered;
Nanami sat at the small kitchen table, and put her bags down
on the blue-tiled floor beside her chair.

     Miki got down the kettle from the cupboard and filled it at
the sink.  "This is the first time you've been to my house, isn't
it, Nanami-kun?"

     "I think so," she said uncertainly.  "We don't really see
much of each other outside of school, except for parties."

     "True, true."  The kettle had filled a little too full, and
he poured the excess water from the spout; it swirled, 
spiralled, vanished down the drain.  "Are you looking forward to
the school festival?  It's coming up soon."

     "I haven't really thought about it," she answered.  "You're
going to play piano at the concert, right?"

     "Uh-huh.  I've been practicing."  He placed the kettle on 
the stove, and turned the burner on high.  "It's hard, 
though," he murmured.  "So hard to find the right tone.  I'm
either too weak, or too strong."

     "Looking for a mean, huh?" Nanami asked quietly.  Then,
before he could answer.  "And I guess you're still playing with
_her_ in mind, aren't you?"

     "Yes," he answered coolly.  "I'll play with whomever in mind
I like."  He opened the cupboard and looked over the boxed teas.
"What do you feel like?  I've got all kinds.  Earl Grey, quite a
few herbals--"

     "Green."
     
     He nodded, took down the box to extract the bags, replaced 
it.  From another cupboard, he removed the blue-and-white china
teapot, and set it down on the counter beside the stove with the
tea bags in it.  Then he took a seat at the table, across from
Nanami.

     "So," he said.
     
     "So?" she echoed.
     
     "Does Touga-sempai know you're gone?"
     
     "I don't know.  Maybe.  I don't care."  Each sentence
dropped heavy and individually from her lips, like separate 
falls.

     Miki almost sighed; he couldn't imagine what had her so
upset, what Touga could have done or said that could possibly
make Nanami flee home.  "If your big brother knows you're gone, 
he's probably worried."

     "I said, I don't care!" she snapped.  Then, softer, "I don't
want to talk about this, Miki."

     "So, you just expect me to let you stay here, without
giving me any explanation?"

     She looked away from him, appearing very much as though she 
were about to burst into tears.  The mild annoyance he'd begun to
feel at her recalcitrance melted away in the face of concern; 
Nanami was his friend, he supposed, even though she could often 
be aloof and condescending, and sometimes even cruel.

     "I just need someplace to go," she said in a small voice.
"I won't be any trouble.  Please."

     Miki felt a dull, tight pain begin in his chest.  He hated
to see anyone, anyone at all, in such a state of sadness.  
"Nanami..."

     She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head; a
visible tremble ran through her body.  Briefly, the thought
crossed his mind to leave his chair, walk around the table, and
embrace her--he didn't think he'd ever seen someone quite so in
need of the comfort of human contact.  But he wasn't a physically
demonstrative person, never had been; even in childhood, he 
hadn't been eager to hug or kiss his parents, or to receive the
same from them.  That had been more Kozue's style.  Nanami 
probably wouldn't even find it a comfort, from him.

     Steam was rising in slow, lazy, fat curls from the mouth of
the kettle.  He glanced at Nanami, then pushed back and walked
over to transfer the boiling water from kettle to teapot.  Some
of it splashed on the counter as he poured it; he tsked with
annoyance, and grabbed a dishtowel from near the sink to wipe 
up the steaming patch of water.  The thin towel turned painfully
hot beneath his hands almost instantly, leaving him with a 
slightly reddened palm.

     "Miki?"
     
     He looked back as he hung the dishtowel back on the rack
beneath the sink counter.  "Yes?"

     "Did you hurt yourself?  You cried out."
     
     "Did I?"  He chuckled softly.  "I didn't even realize that
I did.  No, I just scalded my hand a little; it's nothing."  He
walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling
down at her; she tilted her head back and twisted her neck a
little to look him in the eye.  "Listen, I won't press you any
more.  You can sleep in my bed tonight, in the room I share with
Kozue; I'll take the couch in the sitting room."

     After a moment, to his surprise, she put her head down on
her shoulder, laying her cool, soft cheek against the back of his
hand.  

     "Miki-kun..."
     
     He studied her hair; pale, fine.  Almost, he took his free
hand, the one her cheek lay not upon, and touched that hair;
moved it away from her slim neck, away from her violet eyes.  
Almost.

     "It'll be okay, Nanami-kun," he murmured.  "Really, it 
will."
     
     "It amazes how me how you can say things like that," she 
said, almost affectionately, and raised her head; part of him was
sorry to lose the feel of her cheek upon his hand.  "You really
are the type who thinks things will work out for the best, aren't
you?"

     "Most days, I am," he said distantly, taking his hands off
her shoulders.  "The tea's just about ready, I think."

     "Really?  Has it steeped long enough?"
     
     "I don't like it very strong.  Do you?"
     
     "No."
     
     He removed the tea bags, got down cups, moved them and the
teapot to the middle of the table.  Nanami poured.  They sipped
in silence for a little while, and then heard the hallway door
opening.

     "Kozue's home," Miki said, rising.
     
     "Oh?  I was wondering where she was."
     
     "A date," he replied shortly, heading out into the hallway.
Nanami didn't follow.
     
     "Welcome back," he greeted.
     
     Kozue, who had just finished putting on her indoor slippers,
favoured him with a brief glance.  She wore a short black skirt
and a tight, dark blue, long-sleeved sweater.  

     "Did you have a good time?"
     
     She smirked at him, raised her eyebrows slightly.  "He was
a boring conversationalist and a bad kisser.  Draw your own 
conclusions."  She breezed by him, heading for the kitchen; his 
nose wrinkled at the too-heavy scent of her perfume.

     He followed.  "Kozue, we have--"
     
     She was already in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at
Nanami with a vague frown.  "What's she doing here?" she asked,
glancing back at him.

     "Hi, Kozue," Nanami said quietly.
     
     "Nanami-kun's going to stay the night," he said firmly,
daring her to take some issue with it.

     Kozue's frown quirked into a kind of twisted smile; she
looked from him, to Nanami, and back again.  Then she laughed,
softly, unkindly.  "You two?  I had no idea.  Want me to sleep on
the couch so you can have some privacy?"

     "Don't be disgusting!" he said sharply, and saw Nanami
wince--he wondered what he'd said wrong.  

     Kozue rolled her eyes.  "Sorry.  I forgot.  Company."  She
turned to Nanami, and said in a too-sweet, sarcastic voice, "It's
so lovely to have you here, Nanami-chan.  Does your big brother 
know you're sleeping over?"

     "Kozue!" he snapped.  With some effort, he forced himself to 
lower his voice.  "Enough."
     
     "Fine, fine," she said.  "You've got to learn to loosen up,
and relax, Miki.  I'm only teasing."  She brushed by him, arm 
and hip briefly touching his as she passed, and headed for the 
stairs.  "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

     After a glance to the silent, unresponsive Nanami, Miki
followed after her, catching up halfway up the stairs and 
stopping her with a hand on her elbow.

     She turned, eyes and expression conveying only disinterest.
"What?"     
     
     "Listen," he hissed, barely above a whisper.  "Nanami is
having some trouble right now, and needs to stay here, at least
for tonight.  She'll be staying in our room, in my bed; I don't
want you to treat her badly, okay?"
     
     "My," Kozue said languidly, "and here I thought the only
girl you cared about was Himemiya-sempai."

     He flushed; damn her for being able to do this to him, for
always knowing exactly what buttons to press.  "Nanami's my 
friend and I'm worried about her.  That's all."

     She resumed walking up the stairs, and he followed.  
"Really?  That's all.  I don't know, she's very pretty.  Looking
to gather a harem, are you?  Who'll it be tomorrow, Himemiya and
her roommate?"  She smiled and looked back at him, hand on the
knob of their shared room's door.

     "Don't make me ill," he said, flushing even hotter at the 
images her words made rise, against his will, inside his head.

     She shrugged.  "I'm honest," she replied, opening the door
with a creak.  "And you hate that, because you've built your life
upon all these lies, which you can see tumbling down around you
even as you try and build them up again."

     "I thought I saw some birds circling the house today," he
said after a moment.  "I think they might be the chicks' parents.
They may come back for them soon."

     She snorted.  "You're still feeding them?"
     
     "What, do you think we should just let them starve?" he 
said, scowling.

     "The parents aren't coming back.  Deal with it."  She
stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.  Miki stood
looking at the blank wood for a moment, then sighed heavily and
headed back down to the kitchen.

     Nanami was still at the table.  It didn't look as though
she'd drunk any more of her tea since he'd left.  She sat
slumped forward a little, elbows resting on the wood, teacup
cradled between her hands.

     "Sorry you had to see that," he said after a moment, hoping
no visible trace of his embarrassment remained on his face.

     "You and Kozue live here all by yourselves, don't you?" she
asked, as though she hadn't heard him at all.

     "Yeah."
     
     "You're the older one, right?"
     
     Despite himself, he smiled slightly.  "Yeah; by about five
minutes."

     She raised her head and looked at him intently.  "What's it
like, having a little sister?"

     His smile vanished; he sighed again.  "Sometimes, you know,
it feels like it's the hardest thing in the entire world."
     
                             * * *

She'd changed into her nightdress in the bathroom, the prude.  As
if what she had under that uniform was any kind of secret; the
thing was practically painted on.

     Lying beneath the covers, facing the window, Kozue smiled.
It was priceless, in her opinion; precious little Nanami, 
running away from home in some fit of pique--probably thinking
her brother had put a contract on her head again.  God, how she'd
laughed when she'd heard about that.

     Nearly as priceless was the fact that Miki didn't see any
significance in the fact that he'd been the first one Nanami came
to for sanctuary.  Naive as all hell, both of them; unable to see
the motives behind their own actions.  Then again, most people 
were like that, torn in so many directions by impulses they often
tried to pretend didn't exist.

     The door creaked; light from the hallway filtered into the
room, shoving the darkness into the corners.  She didn't move at
all as Nanami entered and closed the door behind her, so that the
gloom come down again in full; let her think she was asleep.

     Feet moved lightly across the floor--tip-toe, maybe?  That
was courteous; Nanami was trying not to disturb her.  Bedsheets
rustled as they were pulled back; bedsprings creaked at the 
weight of a body.

     When all was silent and dark again, Kozue spoke.  
     
     "So, why'd you come here first?"
     
     "What?"
     
     "There's got to be some reason."
     
     Nanami sounded a little guarded; in the darkness, Kozue
smiled again.  "It was just the first place that came to mind."

     "But why did it come to mind first?"
     
     "I don't know."
     
     "Thinking about the reasons you do things you don't seem to
have a reason for is the best way to get to know yourself."

     "So do _you_ know why you do everything you do?"  Nanami
sounded dubious.

     "Of course," Kozue replied smoothly.
     
     "So, why'd you crawl out on that ledge to get those chicks?"
     
     After a moment's silence, Kozue said, "Do you like my 
brother?"
     
     "What?  Of course.  I can't think of anyone who doesn't."
     
     "I mean, as more than a friend."
     
     "Why are you asking me a thing like that?"
     
     "I could help you, you know.  If you do like him.  You'd be
better for him than that Himemiya Anthy girl."

     "That's right," Nanami said.  Then, she added, "Not that I
do like him as more than a friend.  I just think he needs to stop
fixating on that girl; she's so weird."  She giggled, a bit
nervously.  "But her older brother is cool."
     
     "He's a remarkable man," Kozue agreed.
     
     "Oh?  You know him."
     
     "I know him quite well."
     
     "I just met him today."  There was a dreamy quality in
Nanami's voice; Kozue smirked.  She didn't have any idea of what
was coming for her, but coming it was, all the way from the Ends
of the World, unstoppable...
     
     "So, how do you really feel about my brother?"
     
     "I told you, he's my friend."  Now Nanami was annoyed, 
defensive.  "Are you hard of hearing?"
     
     "Come on, be honest with me," Kozue said unctuously.  "Cute
little sisters like us ought to stick together."

     Show me your heart, pretty Nanami, and if I don't like the 
colour of it, perhaps I'll rip it out of your breast, red and
bloody, and parade it around for the amusement of others.

     "Goodnight, Kozue," Nanami said firmly; conversation was
over.  There was pause, then a sigh; hesitant, as though she 
were unused to it, and to what came next.  "I'm sorry to impose
on you and Miki like this.  What's it like, sharing a bedroom 
with your older brother?  Do you two talk every night, before 
you go to bed?  That must be nice."

     "No," Kozue said after a moment.  "No, we hardly ever talk
at all.  Usually, we just go to sleep.  Straight to sleep.  No
talking at all."
          
                             * * *

Kozue woke her the next morning, padding back into the bedroom
after her shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel.  Nanami raised
her sleepy-eyed head from the pillow, saw blue towel falling
away from pale curves, and simply closed her eyes again and lay
back down, to wait until Kozue finished dressing.

     She was so weird, that girl; not like her brother at all.
What had she been thinking, asking those kinds of questions?  It
wasn't any of her business.  Sure, Miki was nice--sweet, even--
but he wasn't cool like the Chairman.  Such a mysterious man, and
so kind to his sister... Touga never would have sat around and 
let her feed him shaved ice these days... he'd have something
better to do, or...

     Well, he wasn't her brother anyway, so she didn't care.
     
     Kozue was humming something, very softly; a pretty tune.
Nanami heard her footsteps move across the floor, then pause.
She was right beside the bed.
     
     Nanami waited, scrunching her eyes closed and not moving.
Perhaps half a minute passed, and Kozue still hadn't moved away.
Unable to stand it any longer, she opened her eyes.  "What?"

     For a moment, Kozue wore the same expression she must have
been wearing ever since she'd come to stand beside the bed--
perhaps even before--and Nanami understood, with a kind of
creeping terror, the real reasons behind Kozue's questioning the
night before.  And why she'd called herself a wild animal; as far
as Nanami was concerned, in that moment, Kozue looked like she
was about to bend down and sink small white teeth into her 
throat.

     Then it was gone, and Kozue was looking, as usual, slightly
disinterested in everything.  "Oh.  So you weren't actually 
asleep."

     "No," Nanami murmured, resisting the urge to leap from the
bed and run downstairs, screaming for help.  "Why were you
standing like that?"

     "You're lucky, getting to sleep in my brother's bed like
that."  Kozue smirked; it was a very old expression for her young
face.  "Too bad he wasn't in it with you, hmm?"

     Nanami just stared at her for a moment, then said, 
incredulously, "What the hell are you talking about?"

     "Oh, nothing.  See you."  With that, Kozue left the room.
     
     Nanami sat upright in the small bed, pulled up her legs,
rested her arms on her knees and her chin on her arms.  She
realized she was blushing faintly; had Kozue seen that?  Well,
what did she expect, saying something like that?  When people
said dirty things like that, it brought pictures to mind just by 
power of suggestion, even if they were things you didn't ever 
think of by yourself.

     She got out of bed, took up the bag she'd packed her
clothing in, and headed out into the hallway to take a shower in
the small, blue-walled bathroom of the house.  As she passed the
stairs, she heard voices rising from the front hallway, and
paused to listen.

     "Did you and Nanami-kun get along all right?"
     
     "Just fine.  Did you like sleeping on the couch?  It'll be
good practice for when you're a married man."

     "Why are you acting so weird?"
     
     Kozue's laughter drifted up the stairs like ugly black 
smoke, cruel like it had been the night before.  "You and Nanami
are a good pair.  Neither of you can see what's right before your
eyes, you're both so fixated on things you can't ever have."

     "Kozue, what's _wrong_ with you?  Hey--"
     
     There was the sound of the front door opening, then closing,
not quite hard enough to be counted a slam.  Very softly, the
sound of Miki sighing reached Nanami's ears.  Footsteps; it
sounded as though he could be heading towards the stairs.  She
hurriedly made her way towards the bathroom.

     There was no way she could spend another night here.  If it
were just Miki, it would be fine; nice, even.  They could drink
tea together, and talk, get to know each other better.  But Kozue
was too weird, and too scary.
     
     She showered quickly, then changed into her spare Council
uniform.  It was a little wrinkled from inhabiting the cramped
space of her gym bag, and she smoothed it out as well as she
could before the fogged glass of the mirror on the shower doors.
If this went on much longer, she was going to have to find a coin
laundry or something.

     How much longer could this go on?  She definitely wasn't
spending another night here, but where was she to go?  There was
no way she was going to let a common bunch of girls like Keiko,
Eiko and Yuuko see what she'd been brought to, running away from
home.  Maybe Juri's place... but she didn't know Juri in the way
she knew Miki, and, to tell the truth, she was kind of scared of
her... then again, at least Juri was a girl; she'd probably
understand.  And she didn't have a sister; that would be a plus.

     Downstairs, she found Miki in the kitchen, buttering toast.
There were eggs on a blue plate, a sliced apple and mixed
berries in a bowl; a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk.  A
place set for one at the little kitchen table.

     "Good morning, Nanami-kun," Miki said brightly, smiling at
her as he set the toast down, and a pot of jam beside it.  "Did
you sleep well?  I made breakfast for you."

     She sat down, a little stunned.  "Thanks.  Aren't you going
to have anything?"

     "I ate when I got up."
     
     "When was that?"
     
     He checked his watch.  "About two hours ago; I have to get
up early, you see, to feed the chicks."

     "Hasn't it been almost two weeks now since you got them?"
     
     "Yeah, about that."
     
     "And the parents still haven't come back."
     
     He was standing at the sink counter, washing his hands, and
she saw him flinch.  "No.  I'm hoping they will soon; I'm not 
sure how long I can keep on feeding the chicks like I have been."

     "Maybe you should just call an animal shelter."  She began
to eat; the eggs had spices in them, and cheese.  Miki was a good
cook.
     
     After a moment, he nodded.  "Yeah.  I'll probably do that
soon."  There was a defeated tone in his voice that she didn't
like to hear.  She would have said something, but her mouth was
full of toast, and before she could finish chewing, the phone on 
the wall near the fridge rang.  Miki quickly picked it up.

     "Hello?  Oh..."  He glanced to her; she felt a sliver of ice
trace her spine.  "Yes.  She's here; she spent the night here.
She's fine.  What?  Hello?  Hello?"

     She was already standing as he hung up the phone, shoving 
back her chair so hard the legs scraped angrily on the tiles.  
"How could you?" she whispered; she felt as though she'd been
punched in the gut.  Betrayed.

     He looked away from her.  "I said you could stay here,
Nanami-kun.  I didn't say I was going to hide you from Touga-
sempai.  Whatever problems you're having with him, he's your
brother, and you should try and work them out, not run away from
them."

     She almost slapped him, but held herself back; at her side,
her hands trembled, balled into fists.  "You... you..." she 
snarled, "you don't understand anything!"

     "Of course I don't," he said quietly, sadly.  "How could I,
when you wouldn't tell me anything?"

     She snatched her bags from the floor, spun on her heel, and
headed towards the front door.  Miki hurried after her and 
touched her shoulder as she reached for the handle; she pulled 
away from him, vision blurring.  How could he do that?  She'd 
thought he was a friend, a good friend...

     "Nanami-kun!" he said.  She yanked the door open; he
grabbed her arm, tightly.  "You can't just--"

     "Let me go!" she snapped, painfully yanking free of his 
grip.  She hurried out into the front yard; Miki didn't follow,
but stood in the door, watching her as she left and chewing
on his lower lip.

     "Nanami, please," he pleaded, "what's wrong?  Why did you
run away from home?  What happened?"
     
     She didn't look back, wouldn't have had anything to say even
if she did.

                             * * *

                              TWO
                              
                             * * *
                             
It rained that night, just a little, misting the window-panes,
but the rain made her think of him; she expected that rain
always would.  Beneath the window sat a little table, and upon 
the table was a phone that almost never rang, and right now, she
was standing before that table, looking out the window on the
light rain falling on the city, the school, the world.

     Juri touched her fingers to the cool glass, and drew a
meaningless pattern in the condensation.  Bach was on the stereo;
the Cello Suites.  An old LP on an old player, both brought from
home.  Rain on the window, and the deep-voiced cello.  Music to
relax to; to let down her hair to, before taking a long, hot
shower, and putting on her nightdress.  Old routines.

     When the doorbell rang, she frowned sourly, even though 
she'd been expecting it.  Miki had caught her at lunchtime and
told her.  She had her speech all prepared.  Not my business; I
don't want to get involved; you should face your problems, not
run away from them, whatever they may be.

     Nanami, standing in the doorway, with rain on her hair and
face and uniform, looked small and bedraggled.  The sad, hopeful
expression didn't help either.

     She steeled herself, even as the words 
("Hi, Juri-sempai...") were leaving Nanami's lips.  "Don't 
bother.  I know why you're here."

     Nanami paused, blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, then
lost the hopeful part of her expression.  "Did Miki tell you?"

     "Yes."
     
     Nanami stood there expectantly.
     
     After a moment, Juri said, "Come in until the rain stops."
     
     As Nanami entered, Juri was once again struck strongly by 
the wish that she could actually be as hard-hearted as people 
thought she was.  Life would be far easier if she actually could 
not care about these kind of things.

     "This place is a lot nicer than a regular dorm room," Nanami
said, looking around.

     "The school provides it," Juri said shortly.  "Part of the
privilege of being on the Council.  I believe Saionji has 
something similar, although I've never been there."

     "Oh."  Nanami unlaced her shoes and looked around for a
moment, apparently for guest slippers.  Since Juri didn't have
any, it was a futile search.

     The clock on the wall chimed seven.  Nanami put her bags
down by the table with the phone that seldom rang.  The First
Cello Suite ended, the Second began.  It was three hours before
Juri normally went to bed.

     "Would you like something to drink?" she asked.
     
     "Tea would be nice," Nanami said.  She paused.  "Miki made
me tea."

     "Why didn't you stay with him again?"
     
     "He didn't tell you?"
     
     Juri began to walk towards the kitchenette.  "No.  He only
said that you'd run away from home, and might come and ask to 
stay with me."

     "Was that all?"
     
     She stopped, looked back.  "No.  He said I should call your
brother if you did show up."

     Nanami visibly tensed.  "Are you going to?"
     
     "I keep my own counsel," Juri said coolly.  "Whatever
situation you're having with your brother isn't my affair."

     "A while ago, you said you were worried about what my
brother's up to.  What did you mean by that?"

     Almost, she answered.  She knew the truth now.  But would it
do any good?  As before, there would undoubtedly be an order to
these things.  Saionji, Miki, herself; now Nanami's turn had 
come--she realized, with a sudden flash of insight, that it was
imminent.  And Touga must know it, and whatever he'd done to 
drive Nanami from him--because it had to be him, it had to be--
would have been done with the intent of making her duel again.

     "Just that he's back at school, but isn't coming to Council
meetings.  Knowing your brother, it's because he's found 
something better to do with his time."  Yes; let Nanami take from
that what she would, for the truth was in it, if she sought for
it.  But she would not, could not say more than that--some sense
of honour, duty, dedication, prevented her, even though she'd
realized some time ago that her part in these things was over, 
had ended with a breaking locket whose shattering set the heavens 
weeping.  Or perhaps later, in the hospital corridor; or outside,
looking back at the setting sun, remembering watching the sun set
from their place, beside him--feeling, for a brief moment, all 
the long and treasured bitterness lift from her heart, as though
hurled into and consumed by the sun, so that all that was left
was a radiant glow, a hope and conviction that things were going
to get better.

     Then, so it seemed, her miracle happened.  She heard
footsteps; someone was pacing her, a few steps behind.  And she
paused, looked back.  Shiori's words were, she suspected,
indelible, even though she couldn't for the life of her remember
her own responses.  Hi, Juri-san.  I looked for you at the
fencing club, and they said you'd come here because a girl had
been hurt.  I wanted to tell you something.  I wanted to say I
was sorry.  I acted like a real bitch, and all you were trying to
do was help me.  You know you were the only person who even came
to see me?  No one else even called.  I thought I'd made all
these new friends since I came back.  But I guess I hadn't.  Not
the kind of friends like we used to be.  Am I babbling?  I'm 
sorry.  I wish sometimes that it hadn't happened; it was all my
fault.  But I guess you can't go back, right?  You've got to move
on.  You've got to let the old things go.  And I've tried.  But
I'm sorry I split us apart.  Anyway, that's all I really had to
say.  Goodbye, Juri-san.

     She wished very much she could remember what she'd said in
reply; she could remember only the generalities.  It's okay; I
understand.  You were very upset at the time.  That was a long
time ago.  I've moved on.

     "Juri-sempai?  Hello?  Are you even listening to me?  Hey!"
     
     Juri coughed.  "Sorry."  She headed into the kitchenette,
shaking her head.  It didn't do to sink into reverie like that,
around someone else; raised too many questions.

     Nanami followed her in.  "Hey, what were you thinking about?
You looked really distant."

     "My thoughts are my business," she half-snapped, putting
water into the electric kettle and plugging it in.  The ON light
lit up as the coils began to heat.  

     "Hmph.  Fine."  Nanami sniffed and leaned back against the
doorframe.  "This really is a nice place..."

     Inwardly, Juri let out a long sigh.  "You can stay one 
night.  But you sleep on the couch.  That's all I'll give you.  I
don't know what's going on..."  But wasn't that a lie?  She did
know, or at least could guess.  "...but I'm not just going to let
you hide out here indefinitely.  You need to face your problems
instead of running away from them."  Feeling especially
hypocritical today, aren't you, Juri?

     If there was any hint of internal conflict in her voice,
Nanami either didn't pick it up or didn't acknowledge it.  "All
right.  I'll find somewhere else to stay tomorrow."

     "Are you simply intending to stay away from home and your 
brother indefinitely?"

     "I'm not going home ever again."  Juri half-expected Nanami
to stomp her foot on the floor as she said it.  "Never, ever,"
she muttered, folding her arms.

     Juri nearly rolled her eyes.  "Of course."
     
     "You don't think I'm serious?" Nanami said, sounding peeved.
"I'm not!  I'm not going home."  She began waving her arms for
emphasis and speaking so rapidly that Juri had trouble making out
individual words.  "Listen, I'm telling the truth, even if my 
brother showed up right now and--"

     The doorbell rang.
     
     Nanami froze, mouth open in mid-sentence, arms paused 
mid-wave.  Slowly, almost mechanically, her head turned to look
back towards the door.

     "Stay in here," Juri said, moving by her to answer it.  On 
the way, she reached out with her foot and nudged Nanami's bags
beneath the table, out of casual sight for someone on the other
side of the door.

     She opened the door, and two thoughts hit her 
simultaneously:

     One was, her hair looks lovely when its wet.
     
     The other was, why this night, of all nights?
     
     Close behind those two came: damn it, Nanami, couldn't you
have chosen another night, _any_ other night, to come beg
sanctuary from me?

     "Juri-san," Shiori said (such a lovely smile she had), "I 
was running errands, and it got late; then I realized that I was
in your area, and thought I'd drop by and say hello."

     She was out of her school uniform, in a dark silk skirt and
a white blouse, both a little damp with rain, and she looked 
absolutely gorgeous.  

     "Hello," Juri said slowly.  "I didn't realize you knew where
I lived."

     The smile somehow grew more appealing.  "You're a legend.
Everyone in the building is scared of you."

     She laughed.  Even though she did find it funny, it came out
sounding forced.  "They must think you're brave, to even come
onto the threshold of my lair."

     Shiori shrugged.  There was a folded umbrella in one hand,
dripping water on the hallway carpet.  "I couldn't ever be scared
of you, Juri-san.  We were friends for too long."  She paused.  
"Hey, have you had dinner yet?"

     "No.  I eat late."  It would have been take-out tonight; she
hadn't felt like cooking.  "Why?"

     "Want to go out?  I haven't eaten either."
     
     Yes, Shiori, I'd like to go out for dinner with you more
than almost anything else in the entire world.  "Sure.  Just let
me--"

     Shiori's glance moved over Juri's shoulder; her smile faded
a bit.  "Oh.  I didn't realize you had somebody over."

     Almost, almost she turned around, and said, "I told you to
stay in the kitchen!"; the words were on her lips, even, but then
she realized the impression they would probably give Shiori, and
swallowed them.

     "Shiori, this is Kiryuu Nanami, the Proxy Student Council 
President.  Nanami, this is Takatsuki Shiori."

     Nanami, standing in the doorway of the kitchenette, smiled
and bobbed a slight but perfectly polite bow.  "Hi.  Nice to meet 
you."

     "Nice to meet you," Shiori echoed back.
     
     "Nanami and I were just finishing off some paperwork for the
Council.  Right, Nanami?"

     Nanami nodded immediately.  "Yes; paperwork.  For the school
festival."

     "I'm sorry to intrude on--" Shiori began.
     
     "You're not intruding," Juri said, hoping it didn't come out
too quickly.  "Really, all that I had to do was give Nanami some
files on the budget.  They're in my bedroom.  If you'd like to
come in for a moment, Shiori..."

     Shiori nodded, and stepped inside.  Juri closed the door
behind her, then headed for her bedroom, Nanami at her heels.  As
soon as they were inside, she closed the door behind her.

     "Hey, isn't that the girl who went out with Tsuchiya-
sempai?"

     "Yes," Juri said shortly, and started lying.  "Now, 
listen.  She's an old friend of mine who I'm trying to reconcile
with.  It's inconvenient that you showed up tonight.  The way
we're going to work it is like this..."

                             * * *

"She's Kiryuu Touga's little sister?"

     "Yes."
     
     "Seems nice enough.  Although, a bit odd, heading home
without an umbrella, in this rain."

     "I expect she caught a cab."
     
     "Oh.  Yes, they're a very wealthy family, aren't they?"
     
     "Yes."
     
     The light rain fell softly upon the canvas of their
umbrellas, two droll rhythms, one for each.  Shiori turned her 
head to study Juri in profile for a moment; still in her Student
Council uniform, even though it was hours after school had 
finished.  It wasn't that it didn't look good on her; Shiori 
merely wondered if she ever wore anything else, even outside 
school hours.

     "I can't think of the last time we did something together
like this," she said, moving her gaze ahead again.  There weren't
many other people on the streets; rainy evenings like this were
times to be inside, with friends or family.  

     "It would have been before you left the school," Juri
replied.  "We certainly haven't done anything like this since you
returned."

     "It would have been all three of us together, then."
     
     "Yes," Juri said softly, after a moment.  "How is he doing
these days?  Do you keep in touch?"

     "I got a letter from him a few weeks ago.  He seems well."
After a moment, she said, "But, then again, people don't always
say what they feel in letters.  It's easier to hide the truth in
those than it is face-to-face."
     
     "That's true"
     
     "I have his address, if you'd like to write to him..."
     
     "No; I don't think that would be a good idea."
     
     "It's up to you.  But I think he'd like to hear from you."
     
     "Perhaps.  Where should we go for dinner?"
     
     "I was thinking that beefbowl place we used to go.  Cheap 
and good."

     Juri smiled, a smile that Shiori remembered from when they'd
been younger; it had been a real shock, to come back, and 
discover that Juri had changed from the most popular and admired
girl in her grade to a cold, distant person whom people were
afraid to be around.  "I haven't been there in years."  That 
smile, a recollection from more carefree days, was almost 
entirely the old Juri, and felt good to see.

     "I went there with Tsuchiya-sempai once," she said, and
watched the smile, as she'd expected, vanish.  "I told him that
it used to be your favourite place to go."

     "Oh."
     
     "He was in love with you, wasn't he?"
     
     Juri stepped over a puddle that had formed in a depression
on the sidewalk, then nodded.  "Yes.  I suppose he was."

     "Then, he was just using me to get at you?  As part of this
Duelling Game?"     
     
     "I don't know.  Maybe.  Yes."
     
     She pressed on, past the lump threatening to form in her
throat.  "Why?  What did he want the power of miracles for?"

     "I suppose he must have had his reasons," Juri said
guardedly.  "But, I never heard from him what they really were
before he left."

     Shiori could tell that Juri wasn't saying everything, even 
if she wasn't exactly lying.  But it wasn't as though she had any
right to expect total honesty from Juri, after all she'd done.  
"He was someone important to you, wasn't he?  There was something
in the past between you; that was why you warned me, that he 
couldn't be trusted."

     After a moment, Juri nodded.  "That's right."  She peered 
ahead into the misty rain, through which the dim shapes of the
few other walkers on the streets moved like phantoms from another
world.  "I think we're almost there."

     "Just about."  Shiori closed her mouth and looked down at
her feet briefly.  Rain, glistening like jewels on the black
gloss of her pumps.  "How long did you go out with him?"

     Juri stiffened a little; she was obviously growing less and
less relaxed as the conversation went on.  "It was never like
that between us," she said eventually.  "After you left the 
school, I threw myself into fencing like I never had before.  He
took me on as his protege; as his personal project, I suppose."

     "But," Shiori persisted, "the two of you were never..."
     
     "No."
     
     They reached the restaurant, an old-fashioned little place
with a big blue-curtained front window, half-opaque from 
condensation.  They furled their umbrellas beneath the blue
awning over the door, and left them hanging on the coat rack near
the front.  The place was barely half-full, with most of the
customers seated at the counter; one couple, a boy and a girl 
whom Shiori faintly recognized from seeing them around the high 
school building, sat at a booth.  She led the way to another 
booth, as far from the occupied one as could be.  A waitress 
appeared with menus; they ordered green tea and sodas, and 
studied the menus as the waitress left to get the drinks.  

     "I don't even remember what I used to have here," Juri said.
     
     "The teriyaki beef bowl," Shiori answered automatically.
Then, a bit embarrassed, she explained, "It's just one of those
things that sticks out in my memory.  You always ordered the
teriyaki bowl."

     "I don't remember which one you liked," Juri said, sounding
a bit disappointed in herself.

     "I never settled on one like you did.  I think I'll have the
Szechuan today; that was always good."  They put down their 
menus; the waitress returned, deposited the drinks, took their
orders, collected the menus, left.

     "It was very much like before, you know," Shiori said, once
the waitress was out of earshot.

     Juri looked up from pouring tea for both of them from the
little pot.  "What was?"

     "Tsuchiya-sempai.  Just watching you watch him at the
fencing club, I could tell he was someone important to you.  I
didn't really start to want him--more than all the girls did, I
mean, he had even more admirers than Kiryuu Touga for a while--
until I realized that he meant something to you."  She raised the
straw to her mouth and sucked up a little of the too-sweet lemon-
lime soda.  "Wasn't that horrible of me?"

     For a little while, Juri didn't say anything at all.  Then,
a kind of comprehension seemed to dawn on her, and she said, "So,
when I told you that you should stop going out with him..."

     "I thought you were just jealous.  Trying to break us up,"
Shiori finished.

     "First Ichiro, then Ruka," Juri said quietly.  For a moment,
she looked and sounded angry, and it was a beautiful sort of 
thing to see, like the wrath of an angel.  "Why do you feel this 
need to compete with me, Shiori?"

     "I don't even really know myself," Shiori admitted.  
"Perhaps I'm just a terrible person."  She looked at her nails
for a moment: short, neatly trimmed.  "But, when we were kids, I
always felt like I was in your shadow.  And even today, when I
think about how I am, and how you are... I feel like I hate you,
sometimes, for being so good so easily."
     
     The brief anger was gone, but Juri was frowning now.  "I 
don't understand what you mean."

     "Of course you don't," Shiori said quietly, unable to meet
Juri's eyes.  Saying the things she'd always felt out loud, to
Juri's face, made her realize that they sounded small and petty
and selfish.  "Never mind.  It's my fault, not yours."

     Their food arrived, and they ate in silence for a few
minutes.  The atmosphere had become uncomfortable, defensive.  
Too many things had been said, after too long a time of living in
two different worlds.

     Eventually, unable to stand the only sound being the chewing
of food punctuated by sips of tea or slurps of soda, Shiori 
asked, "Is fencing hard to get good at, Juri?"

     Juri looked surprised at the question, then shrugged.  "Like
any sport--this is my opinion, mind you, and others may tell you
different--it's not hard to pick up the basics.  But it's hard to
get good.  It takes time, and a skilled teacher.  Why do you 
ask?"

     "I've been thinking of joining the team.  Something to
improve myself.  Whenever I watched you and Ichiro fencing, I
always wished I could do it too--it looked so cool--but I always
thought, 'No, I wouldn't be any good at that.'"

     Juri's face quirked slightly; a strange expression, eyebrows
lifted slightly, mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and a
smile.  "Why would you think that unless you tried it?"

     Shiori laughed, softly, a little bitterly.  "That's what
makes you different from me.  You're not scared to try things,
because you're confident enough that they'll turn out well.  I'm
not like that."

     Juri flinched slightly.  "You don't really know me well
enough to say that about me," she said.  "I wish I were as strong
as you seem to think I am, but I'm not."

     For a time, there was silence again.  Shiori pushed bits of 
rice around the bottom of her bowl.  Juri finished off the last 
of the tea.

     "If you're interested in joining the team, Miki and I hold
an orientation meeting every month.  You'll get a chance to 
handle a foil, learn some of the basics.  See if it suits you."

     "I think I'd like that."
     
     "You'd probably be good at it."  Juri paused for a moment,
then looked faintly perturbed.  "There's no obligation to join
after the orientation meeting.  But if you find you like it..."
     
     "I think I will.  As long as I'm not absolutely horrible at 
it."
     
     "You won't be."
     
     They finished up what remained of dinner, called for the 
bill.  When it came, Juri reached for it; Shiori quickly covered
it with her hand.

     "I'll take it.  I was the one who invited you."
     
     "Let's split it."
     
     "No; I insist."
     
     "All right."
     
     Rain was still falling as they left the restaurant, and they
opened their umbrellas to shield themselves.  All the walking in 
the misty rain had begun to uncurl Juri's hair from its usual 
tight coils, making her look fetchingly dishevelled.  They had a
short distance to go together before they parted ways at an
intersection of streets.  They stood in a streetlamp's cast pool
of light; that light, caught and refracted by the drizzling rain,
seemed to surround them briefly in shifting curtains of fire.

     "This was really nice," Shiori said.  "I feel... better than
I have in a long time."

     "About what?"
     
     "I don't know.  Maybe everything."  She tilted her head 
back a little, staring around the edge of her umbrella at the
grey clouds overlaid across the star-filled night sky.  "Where
did Tsuchiya-sempai go after he left the school, Juri?"

     For a moment, Juri looked so sad that she wished she hadn't
asked the question, even though she wanted terribly to know the
answer.

     Then, Juri's expression softened to mere melancholy, and she
said, "How much did he tell you about why he was away from 
school for so long?"

     "Not much.  Just that he'd been on sick leave, but was
better now."
     
     "From what I understand, he was still sick all that time.
He left the hospital, even though he wasn't supposed to, and came
back to school."  Juri closed her eyes, sighed deeply.  "I wish I
didn't have to tell you this."
     
     Shiori began, softly, "You don't have--"
     
     "No.  You should know.  The exertions were too much for him,
I think.  He died shortly after he returned to the hospital."

     Shiori found her mouth opening, but no words were coming 
out; they seemed to have spiralled down into some dark place
within her.  She raised her hand and covered her gaping mouth
with it.  There were tears in her eyes, suddenly; had Juri been
anyone else, she thought that they would probably been in hers as
well, but she just stood there, wearing a stoic mask that almost 
managed to cover deep grief.  There were no other people in
sight, and the misty light seemed to be everywhere.  They seemed
to stand in their own tiny worlds, bordering, but divided by 
boundaries defined by the edges of umbrellas.

     "If he was so sick, why did he come back?"
     
     "Because of me," Juri murmured, looking sick.  "All because
of me."

     Awkwardly, impulsively, trying not to enmesh their umbrellas
too badly, Shiori gave Juri a one-armed hug, head on her 
shoulder, arm around her back and reaching beneath the upraised
arm holding the umbrella.  Juri clearly wasn't expecting it at
all, and for a moment seemed to have been turned to stone; she'd
changed so much.  Shiori remembered how warmly Juri had always
used to respond to these kinds of physical affections, gestures
of friendship, when they were very young.

     Then, slowly, hesitantly, Juri's free arm crept around her
shoulders and tightened, and she found herself crying against the
cool, stiff white collar and soft, padded epaulettes of Juri's 
Council jacket.  Crying, and desperately wanting not to cry, 
because hadn't he used her, and hurt her so much?  Why should 
she cry for him?  But the tears came on all the same, despite the
rationalizations.

     Juri didn't cry.  Shiori wondered if she remembered how.
And they stood there in the rain together for a long time, Juri
holding her gently, she clinging to Juri and sobbing like a baby,
wanting to stop, unable to.  Was it always to be this way, with
Juri being so strong, and she being so weak?  She didn't think
she could stand that; couldn't bear a rekindled friendship, if it 
meant having to be a guttering candle beside Juri's bonfire of
strength and beauty.

     "Don't cry, Shiori.  Shiori, don't cry.  Please."  Barely a
whisper, almost inaudible over even the faint sound of the rain
breaking upon the canvas shields of their umbrellas; which, 
Shiori noted now, were canted a little too unevenly by their 
awkward embrace to provide full protection from the rain.  

     With both regret and relief--strange, how those two things,
in seeming opposition, could possess her in equal measure--Shiori
broke from the embrace, slowly: move her arm; wait for Juri to
move hers; one step back.

     "I'm sorry," she said, still standing close to Juri, 
umbrella still held off-kilter so that the rain continued to soak
through her skirt and blouse, making them cling to her skin; the
sensation was not entirely unpleasant.  "What you must think of 
me..."

     The words fell away at the look on Juri's face.  Haunted,
sad, pained, and her eyes, green like the sea was sometimes 
green, were so wounded, vulnerable.  There were raindrops all 
over her hair, which hardly curled at all any more.  Shiori found
herself lifting her free hand again; this time, perhaps, with the
intent of touching that pale, perfect cheek, to feel tension and
grief and unshed tears running below the surface like rivers
underground.  She couldn't say for certain with what intention, 
because she didn't really know herself, and the motion was 
arrested when Juri spoke.

     "I wish I could be strong enough to show my feelings like
that," she said, more quiet than the quiet rain.  "You know how
often I've thought, 'I should cry for him', and I haven't been
able to?  Even when I'm all alone..."

     Shiori put her hand back at her side.  "I don't think of it
as being strong," she said after a moment.  She finally adjusted
her umbrella so that it covered her against the rain again; Juri
had already done the same.

     "I should get home," Juri said, quickly, and turned away, so
fast her damp hair swung about and spattered loose raindrops
against Shiori's face.  "Thank you for dinner."

     "Juri!" Shiori called, halting her before she could move
too far away.  After a moment, she looked back.  "We should do
this again."  She managed to make herself smile.  "Maybe without
so much crying on my part the next time; old friends like us
should get together."

     "I'd like that," Juri said after a moment.  She couldn't
seem to look into Shiori's eyes.  "Are you going to come to the
orientation meeting?  It's next week.  Tuesday."

     "Yeah.  I'll be there.  Goodnight, Juri."
     
     "Goodnight, Shiori."
     
     She watched Juri walk away for a moment, through the
falling rain.  Her stride was sure, her shoulders were set; from
behind, she looked strong, unstoppable.

     "You wish you were as strong as I think you are, huh?" 
Shiori murmured softly, still smiling.  Then she turned away and
went in the opposite direction.  By the time she got back to her
dorm, the rain had stopped falling.

                             * * *
                             
No umbrella, not even a raincoat, and even though it was a short
walk back to Juri's building from where they'd parted ways, 
Nanami felt soaked to the skin by the time she got back, with her
hair plastered against her neck, shoulders and back like a dead
animal's pelt.  She let herself back into the apartment with the 
key Juri had given her, and stood for a moment in the front 
hallway, shivering and dripping water onto the floor, 
wishing faintly that she could retreat back into ignorance, 
pretend that everything was as it always had been, go back home 
and apologize to her brother, and he'd smile, and call her a 
silly girl for running way, but say that she was forgiven, and
then he'd hold her, strong arms, but so gentle--

     Scowling fiercely, she knelt down, causing her damp uniform
to squelch unpleasantly, and violently removed her shoes--as
violently, admittedly, as one could remove shoes.  A rapidly-
spreading pool of water was gathering at her feet.  After 
glancing around instinctively--ridiculous, she knew she was the
only one here, but the unfamiliar surroundings strengthened her
natural fear of voyeurs--she stripped out of her clinging uniform
and down to her undergarments.  They weren't especially dry 
either, but she kept them on, bundled her uniform under her arm,
and headed for the bathroom.  

     The bathroom had a white-tiled floor, and a big shower, and
a sink whose counter looked as though it might be real marble.
She hung her uniform to dry over the top of the shower doors,
then grabbed a big, soft, fluffy white towel from off the rack to
wrap herself in.  It felt so good and warm that she was almost
able to forget all the unpleasantness of what had brought her
here.  She took her hair out of its usual coiffure so that it
hung loose, towelled it dry as well she could, then headed back 
out and changed into her nightdress.  She also retrieved a 
hairbrush from the little toiletry bag she'd packed.

     As she zipped the bag back up again, her eyes fell upon her
brother's cell phone.  On perverse impulse, she took it out,
turned it on, and waited, crouched down by the table beneath
which Juri had shoved her gym bag.

     Five minutes was all it took, at the very most.
     
     //"Touga?  Touga?  Where are you?  Didn't you get my note?
You said you'd come to me, whenever I needed you... Touga..."//

     She hung up, closed the phone, turned it off again.  She
had been able to think of nothing cruel to say in reply, found 
perhaps that she had no real desire to say any such thing.  Then
she put the dress on, found a comfortable seat on the couch (her
bed tonight, apparently) and began brushing her hair.  After no
more than five strokes, she decided it was too quiet, and went up
to the stereo.  Juri, like Touga, seemed to prefer LPs, outdated
though they were; her brother always claimed the sound was better
than compact discs.  The rich cello music that had been playing 
when she'd arrived--Bach, the label on the LP said--soon filled 
the apartment again.  She took her seat, resumed brushing her 
hair.  Eventually, she stopped feeling bedraggled as a dead rat, 
if not exactly presentable for a social function.  Not that she'd
be going to many of those in the future, having resolved never to
return home again, which was where most of the social functions
she'd ever attended had taken place.

     She wondered if her parents were worried about her.  Father
probably didn't even know, he was almost impossible to reach when
he was away on his business trips; Mother was probably just
letting Touga handle everything, going out to luncheons and teas
with her friends as usual.  It wasn't as though either of them 
was used to seeing her every day anyway.

     She put her hairbrush away, retrieved a magazine from her
school bag, and curled up on the couch with her feet tucked in
beneath her.  It was a big couch, soft, comfortable.  She'd never
had to sleep on a couch before, but expected it wouldn't be all 
that unpleasant.

     Moments after opening the magazine, she realized that she
would probably never, ever have an opportunity to look around
Juri's apartment without Juri being there ever again.  She
calmly closed the magazine and set it down beside her on the
couch, then began after taking the LP off the turntable.

     Nothing especially interesting in the front room, but that
wasn't surprising.  She pulled back the white curtains over the
glass-fronted sliding doors to look out onto the small balcony,
with filigreed iron railings.  The rain seemed to be slackening
a little.  She pulled them closed again, and wandered into the
kitchen.

     Other than having a surprising amount of junk food in her
cupboards for someone with such a good figure, Juri had an 
unremarkable kitchen.  There was a tomato in the fridge's
vegetable drawer that had definitely seen better days; she
wrinkled her nose at it, closed the fridge, and headed for the
bathroom.

     The cupboard behind the sink mirror held the usual feminine
assortment; no interesting prescription medicines or anything of
the like.  The cupboard under the sink had extra bottles of
shampoo and other toiletries, spare towels, and an impressively
expensive cordless hairdryer with a matched and equally expensive
curling iron.

     She hadn't really been expecting anything good until the
bedroom, though, which was why she saved it for last.  Everyone
kept their secrets in their bedroom.  She'd had a brief glimpse
of it when Juri had pulled her in there after the friend had
shown up.  There was a dresser, a desk, a large bed, a free-
standing lamp, a closet door.

     She checked the dresser first, but Juri kept nothing
scandalous or interesting beneath her underwear.  A lot of it was
awfully frilly, though; she had expected Juri would go for more
utilitarian styles.  The closet was similar, with a good number 
of tasteful, fashionable, very feminine dresses--then again, 
she'd always respected Juri's sense of fashion.  It was nearly as
good as hers.

     The bed was neatly-made, and the tops of dresser and desk
were clean and orderly.  On the dresser was a framed photograph;
four people, seated on the couch in a very nice living room.  She
recognized Juri easily; the photo looked to have been taken 
within the last year or so.  There was a tall, good-looking man 
to whom Juri bore a strong resemblance, and a petite woman to 
whom she didn't bear much of one.  Her mother and father, 
presumably.  Finally, there was someone she guessed was Juri's
sister; a few years older, pretty but delicate, not looking 
anything like Juri.  She hadn't known Juri had an older sister.

     There was a little bookshelf mounted on the wall above the
desk, holding textbooks and a few novels.  The novels all looked
very literary and very boring, without a single mystery or
thriller among them.  She moved down to the desktop: the centre 
of it was taken up by a compact computer system, with notebooks 
for classes to one side, and a tray holding writing utensils and
supplies to the other.  Nothing interesting there, either.

     Checking the desk drawers revealed nothing.  They held extra
notebooks, loose paper, scissors, a stapler, a hole punch.  All
the supplies a dedicated student and Student Council Member would
need.  Didn't Juri have anything _interesting_?

     The thought occurred to Nanami that if Juri did have anything
interesting that was easy to find, she wouldn't have let her
go back to the apartment by herself.  With a sigh, Nanami slid 
the final drawer of the desk closed.  Then, on impulse, she 
pulled it open again and took out the stacked pile of lined 
paper.

     "Jackpot."  She grinned, and pulled forth the little velvet-
covered box that had been hidden in the corner.  It was of the 
kind used to store jewelry, but if it were secreted like this, it
had to mean there was something good in it...

     She opened it, caught a momentary glimpse of shattered links
of chain and a flash of gold, and then heard the front door
opening.  Oh no, she thought, Juri will probably take this in
entirely the wrong way.  She'd thought she'd had the only key,
but Juri had obviously just given her a spare.  Or kept the
spare.  She couldn't say which, and it didn't matter.  She had to
hurry.  The box was snapped closed, shoved back into the corner; 
the stacked paper followed.  She hoped it looked even enough.

     Juri called her name.  Her footsteps crossed the floor of
the front room, heading for the bedroom.  She closed the drawer,
stood up, and hurried to open the bedroom door.  Juri was right
on the other side, hand extended towards the handle.

     "What were you doing in here?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
The fact that she was dishevelled and a bit flushed in the face--
probably from hurrying back in the rain--didn't make her look any
less intimidating.

     "I was looking for a pillow," Nanami squeaked.  She 
indicated her nightdress with a downward sweep of her hands.  
"See?  All ready for bed.  That couch looks nice and comfy."  She
smiled and giggled in a manner guaranteed to win Juri over.

     Juri started forward.  Nanami moved aside to avoid being run
down.  Juri grabbed one of her bed's two large pillows and thrust
it at Nanami, disarraying the neatly-made sheets as she did.

     "A pillow," she said, as though it were a threat.
     
     Nanami took it.  "Thanks," she said, a little numbly.  "I've
never seen your hair like that.  It looks nice.  I didn't realize
it was so long."
     
     Juri grimaced and ran her hands through the damp length of 
it.  "I feel like a drowned rat."

     Nanami perked up.  "Hey, I've got an idea--we could braid
each other's hair!  I bet you'd look cool with--"

     "Nanami!" Juri said sharply, cutting her off.
     
     "What?" Nanami asked, blinking and hugging the pillow to her
chest.

     "This isn't a sleepover, and I'm not one of the cronies you
sometimes call your friends.  Don't treat me like I am.  Now get 
out of my bedroom.  I need to change."

     Wordless, wide-eyed, Nanami retreated back into the front
room, closing the door behind her.  Juri was so scary sometimes.

     She settled down on the couch and opened her magazine again.
The articles, the sentences, even the kanji, seemed entirely 
without meaning.  She wished she hadn't gone snooping through 
Juri's bedroom.  Juri knew, she knew that she knew, and she was 
angry now.  

     The bedroom door opened, closed.  Juri came up, a silver-
backed hairbrush in her hand.  She'd changed into a pale blue,
ruffle-throated nightdress.  Nanami moved her feet to the floor 
to give Juri a seat on the couch.

     "So," Juri began as she sat, turning her head to the side to
let her hair spill down over one shoulder for easy brushing, 
"what do you really intend to do, Nanami?  You can't keep running
forever."

     "I can try," Nanami muttered.  "I'm not going home, Juri."
     
     Juri let out what might almost have been counted a sigh.
"Look, Nanami," she said, "whatever's going on, you should face
it."  Her expression had softened considerably since the brief
confrontation in the bedroom, and was almost tender now--a look
Nanami had never seen on her.  "Running from it will only make it 
worse."

     "You can't know that," Nanami said, scowling.  At Miki, she
would have snapped the words, in an attempt to drive him into 
docile silence; that wouldn't work on Juri, though.  "Why does 
everyone insist on trying to give me advice?"

     "Because," Juri said, running the brush through her hair in
long, even strokes, "you're acting like a foolish little child."

     "Well," Nanami muttered, "maybe you ought to just spank me
then, if you're so grown-up and mature, and I'm such a child."

     Juri coughed lightly and turned her head a little so Nanami
couldn't see any of her face at all.  The brush sliding through 
her hair made a soft, pleasant, silky sound.

     "You're right," she said after a moment.  "It's not my
business.  Do what you like.  You've already heard my terms."

     "One night, on the couch," Nanami said.
     
     "That's right."
     
     Nanami opened the magazine and tried to make herself be
interested in any of the articles.  Fashion, television, quizzes,
movie stars, boys; it all seemed so suddenly meaningless.  She
had run away from home, her brother wasn't her brother... the
immensity of her tragedy was so great.  How was she supposed to
go on, when her brother, for whom her life was lived, wasn't 
her brother?  Life was all a lie, a terrible, rotten lie.

     "Nanami?"
     
     She glanced over.  "What?"
     
     Juri had put the hairbrush aside on the arm of the couch.
"How _do_ you think I'd look with my hair braided?"

     Nanami raised her eyebrows and looked at Juri suspiciously.
"You're in a really weird mood tonight, sempai, aren't you?"

     Juri smiled faintly.  "Maybe I'm always like this at home,"
she said.  She pulled her legs up onto the couch, crossed them,
and turned her back to Nanami.  "Come on.  Think you'll ever have
this opportunity again?  You can tell all your friends about it.
Though they'll never believe you."

     After a moment, Nanami tossed her magazine onto the floor,
swung her own legs up onto the couch, and almost hesitantly put
her hands on Juri's hair.  Long, thick, slightly wavy hair.  A
beautiful colour, too, burnished bronze to coppery fire depending
on how the light hit it.  Gorgeous hair, nearly as nice as hers.

     Her fingers worked quickly and dextrously.  They didn't talk
much while she braided: the occasional soft request for a 
differing tilt of neck from her to Juri was more or less the
entirety.  It didn't take long, and soon Juri's hair hung in two
long, neat braids.

     Finished, she clapped her hands and smiled.  "I was right--
you do look cool."

     "Hmph," Juri said.  She swung her legs off the couch and
headed for the bathroom to see for herself, Nanami trailing her.

     "I look like I'm about eleven," Juri said as she looked in
the mirror, with a stoniness Nanami couldn't say was genuine or
not.  Juri reached back and moved the braids so they draped over
her shoulders.  Then she smiled, and laughed softly.  "I can't
believe I let you do this, Nanami.  I look utterly ridiculous."

     "No, you don't," Nanami said, pursing her lips.  "You look
cool.  Don't you trust my fashion sense?"

     Juri just shook her head, smile fading a little, but not
entirely disappearing.  "What a night," she murmured, so quietly
that Nanami was quite certain she was speaking only for 
herself--that perhaps she wasn't even aware, in that moment, that
there was anyone else with her.  "My, what a night..."

     "It's been a funny time for both of us, hasn't it, Juri?"
she said quietly.  "You, with Tsuchiya-sempai coming back, and me
with, well..."  She blinked, a thought suddenly occurring.  "Hey,
do you know why Tsuchiya-sempai stopped coming to school?  Miki
and I were wondering, and..."  She trailed away; there was
something funny in Juri's eyes, which she could only see 
reflected in the mirror before them as she stood behind her.

     "Actually, Nanami, I..."
     
     "What?"
     
     "Nothing.  I'm not one to guess at Ruka's motives or 
actions."  Juri's voice made it clear that it was a closed topic.
     
     "I wish I had a camera," Nanami said after a moment; the
silence was too uncomfortable.  "I'd really like a picture of you
like this."

     "I wouldn't let you take one," Juri replied.  She turned 
around.  "Want me to do yours?" she offered.

     Nanami nodded.  "Sure."
     
     They returned to the couch, sat down in almost a mirror 
image of their earlier positions, Nanami with her back to Juri.
Juri's fingers, so agile on the hilt of a sword, struck Nanami as
uncommonly clumsy at braiding hair.  She pulled too hard very
often, once so hard that Nanami yelped softly.

     "Sorry," Juri said, taking her fingers away for a moment.  
"I haven't braided hair, mine or anyone else's, for a long time."

     When Juri finished, they returned to the bathroom to look at
the results.  The single braid was rather clumsy compared to 
Nanami's handiwork, but adequate enough.  They stood side by 
side before the full-length mirror on the shower doors to 
compare.

     "Braids are a little commonplace," Nanami said.  "I'd never
wear one in public."

     Juri tugged on one of hers and grimaced slightly.  "Neither
would I, but, like I said, they make me look like I'm about
eleven.  It suits you better."

     Nanami glanced at her.  "Maybe you'd look better with a
single braid..."

     "I think one session of hair braiding is enough for me
tonight," Juri said.  Nanami thought for a moment she was going
to turn away and leave, but she didn't; just stood there, beside
her, the two of them in their nightdresses, hair braided.  She
wished again she had a camera.  

     "It's funny, you know," Nanami said after a moment.  "If 
someone was looking at us, right now, they wouldn't think that
there was anything exceptional about us."  She paused.  "Beyond
our stunning beauty, of course.  I just mean, they wouldn't 
think, 'Those two girls have fought duels in the sky, those two
girls have fought for the Revolution'.  They'd probably just
think we were two friends, having a sleepover."  Again, she
paused.  "Maybe even sisters, or something."

     "What a weird thing to say."
     
     Lightly, lingeringly, Juri's hand touched her back.  They
stood before the mirror, silent for what felt like a very long
time, as though trapped by the eyes of their own reflections.

     "Sisters, huh?" Juri said eventually, and chuckled.  Her
hand left.
     
     "Thanks for letting me stay here, Juri," Nanami said.  "Even
if it's just for one night."

     "Yes," Juri murmured.  "One night.  That's all."  She left
the bathroom; Nanami followed.

     "I've got some work to get finished for school tomorrow," 
Juri said, glancing at the wall clock: half past eight.  "I'll be
in my room."

     Nanami nodded.  Juri headed into her room and closed the 
door behind her.  The click of the latch held a certain sense of
finality to it; the moment was clearly over, and probably would
never come again.

     She sat down on the couch, picked up the magazine; then she
sniffed dismissively and threw it down on the floor again.  She
leaned over, resting her forearm on the arm of the couch and
pillowing her chin on them.  Sisters.  It _had_ been a weird 
thing to say.  Embarrassing, too.  She wished now that she hadn't
said it.

     The notion was intriguing, though.  It would probably be
neat, having an older sister instead of an older brother.
Especially someone like Juri, who was cool and tough and had
superb fashion sense and great hair.

     It certainly couldn't be any worse than having the fake 
sibling that she did.  She sighed, and watched the swaying
pendulum of the wall clock.  Back and forth, back and forth, from
one extreme to another, permanently unable to find a mid-point.
An uncomfortable existence, but it helped to keep the machinery 
running.

     She wanted to go home and throw herself into her brother's
arms and act as though she didn't know.  She wanted to get on a
plane and go far, far away from here, and never come back.  Why 
bother doing homework and trying to pretend that everything was 
normal when it _wasn't_ normal?  When things could obviously 
never be normal again?

     Because you had to do something, she supposed.  Otherwise,
you were just alone with your thoughts.  She opened up her
satchel and did algebra worksheets with mechanical precision for
the better part of an hour.  She had to work slowly, checking and
rechecking her answers, in order to get everything right.  She
wondered why she even bothered; Tsuwabuki would have a crib sheet
ready for her next test.  Tsuwabuki... maybe she could stay with
him next...
     
     Gradually, she moved from sitting on the couch to work to
lying down on it to work.  A little before half past nine, she
discovered her head was nodding, and that all the Xs and Ys and
numbers were making even less sense to her than they usually did.
She put her pencil and books down on the floor and rolled over
onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.  The couch was big
enough that she didn't have to curl up to lie on it.  She found
her eyes closing, seemingly of their own volition.

     She dozed, caught somewhere between waking and sleeping.
She had a brief but frightening dream, in which her brother
seized her by the right arm and a shadowy figure seized her by
the left, and they pulled until it seemed they would split her in
half like a wishbone.  At the last second, just before she was
awakened by the sound of Juri's bedroom door opening, she saw 
that the shadowy figure had her brother's face.

     With the dream still lucid and fearful in her mind, she 
looked up at Juri.  The wall clock was striking ten, slowly and
softly.

     "I'm going to bed now," Juri said.  Her hair was still in
the two loose braids, one draped over her shoulder, one hanging
down her back.  "Do you want a blanket?"

     "No.  I'm fine.  It's a warm night."
     
     "All right, then.  Good night.  What time do you want me to
wake you tomorrow?"

     "Whenever you get up is fine."
     
     "I get up quite early."
     
     "That's fine... how early?"
     
     "Five.  I jog every morning."
     
     "You would," Nanami said, a little sourly.  She rolled onto
her side, away from Juri.  "Wake me up when you get back from 
jogging."

     "All right."
     
     "Good night, Juri."
     
     "Just don't go snooping around while I'm gone again.  Good
night, Nanami."     
     
     Nanami rolled back over to face Juri, words of denial and
protest rising on her lips, but all she got was the sight of the
bedroom door closing, with fuller weight of finality than before.

                             * * *

                             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 did she mean, Touga 
wasn't her brother?  One of the more foolish things he'd heard
recently.  Probably another one of her childish delusions over 
some misunderstanding.
     
     "Please!"
     
     He heard the downstairs door open; footsteps, voices.  Damn,
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 kindly move your 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 really did not need this.  He just _didn't_ care; even 
when she was just a little kid, Nanami had been an annoyance, 
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.  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 at all.  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 years, so what did it matter if she was a
blood relative or not?  Some people cared about the dumbest 
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 insincerely.
"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.
     
     "As you will."  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
an idiot 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 nonsense 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."

     "Did 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."

     "Did 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 true self 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 balefully 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, to 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
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."

     "You repeat yourself unecessarily.  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.  "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.

     "Are you paralysed?" 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.  "That's nice.  What is it?"

     "Dvorak."
     
     "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 lousy thing to do to your sister, Touga," 
Saionji said almost conversationally.  "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 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!"
     
     "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.  "My life seems to 
consist of being beaten up or used by the Kiryuu siblings these 
days," he muttered.

     Nanami's teeth ground together audibly as she left the room,
slamming the door behind her.     
     
     "Is 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 actually 
happened between you two, anyway?"

     "She had to duel again.  One way or the other."
     
     "Yes."  Saionji snorted.  "I just bet she did.  And that 
was the only way, was it?"

     "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 saying all those things 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."

     "Don't psychoanalyse me, Touga.  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 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 overhand 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 gently offered him the ice pack.  
"Here, Kyouichi."

     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, then 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, even her...

...even her, there will be room...

...even for her...

...so sleep...

..just sleep...

...

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 the folks on the Fanfic Revolution ML for additional
extensive commentary.  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 22nd, 2000