Chris Davies Prologue Once upon a time there was a little princess weeping over the graves of her parents. It should not be thought, however, that this little princess had lost her parents recently, and that their passage was a still-bleeding wound on her heart. She had not yet seen her second birthday when they had been killed, and that had been nearly five years ago. Her memories of her parents -- her true parents -- were faint and dim. The little princess had been adopted and cared for by one of her parents' friends, who had done so at least as much because of the guilt that she felt for having been unable to prevent their deaths, as for the concern that she felt for their only child. While her step-mother was far from the stereotype, and lavished care and tenderness on the child given to her care, there comes a time in every child's life that the urge for freedom clashes with her mother's loving concern. And that time had come today. With a scream of "I hate you!", the little princess had fled from her step-mother's home, running aimlessly through the city of night, until she came to the graveyard where her true parents lay beneath the cold earth. Perhaps, in her heart of hearts, the little princess cherished a belief that her parents were still alive, but in hiding, and would come to her when she truly needed them. If so, this belief was strained to breaking as the hours passed and she crouched in the graveyard, cold and alone, at once frightened of what her step-mother might do on her return and yearning for the warmth of her embrace. And so, at the end, she cried. "Why are you crying?" a gentle voice asked, from above her. The little princess looked up through tear-filled eyes at the incredibly beautiful woman with dark skin and long, wavy purple hair, who was kneeling beside her. She did not question why she had not heard her approach. "My parents ..." she said, and then a fresh wave of sobbing passed through her. She thusly did not see the woman blink her luminous green eyes in amazement, then smile sadly. "These are the graves of your mother and father," she said, rather than asking. The little princess had the presence of mind to just nod in agreement, since her step-mother had ingrained in her the knowledge that most people would not understand the ... unusual elements of her history. "Are you alone, then, in the world?" The little princess nodded vigorously ... and then, her honesty outpacing her grief, she shook her head. "Mama ..." she said, haltingly. "I see. Don't you think your step-mother is worried about you, being out alone as you are?" She shook her head as vigorously as she had nodded earlier. "She doesn't care about me! She hates me! She wishes I were dead!" The mysterious woman frowned, for she knew well that such things did happen. "Really?" she asked. Again, the little princess was caught by her own honesty. She swallowed, and whispered, "No ... but I'm scared to go back there. I said I hated her ... she must hate me, now." There was a flash of ancient pain on the mysterious woman's face, but it was gone in an instant. "I see. You remind me of some-- of a story I heard once, long ago. Would you like to hear that story, little princess?" The little princess nodded, anxious to hear anything that would keep her from thinking on the possibility that her step-mother might now hate her. The mysterious woman slowly reached out towards her, and drew her close, resting the princess' head on her shoulder, so that her lips were at her ear. "Once upon a time (the mysterious woman said) there was a little princess weeping over the graves of her parents. Before this princess appeared a prince traveling upon a white horse. His appearance gallant and his smile gentle, the prince enveloped the princess in the scent of roses and wiped away her tears. He spoke to her, saying `Little one bearing up alone under grief, please lose not thy strength and nobility when you grow up. As a token of this day, please retain this.' And he gave her a ring. "The princess replied, `Pray, shall we meet once more?' "And the prince answered, `This ring shall guide thee to me.' "Was the ring from the prince meant as an engagement ring?" She paused. "This was all very fine, but caught up in her overwhelming adoration of the prince, the princess made up her mind to become a prince herself! "But was this really such a good idea?" Shoujo Kakumei Utena: Ten Years After [Warning: This story contains very substantial spoiler information for "Shoujo Kakumei Utena". You've been warned ...] * * * Arisugawa Juri woke up with a start. The sun had set, but it was still rather light outside her office window. She blinked, clearing the sleep out of her eyes, and let out a quiet yawn. Akizuki Mana, Juri's TA, poked her head into the office. "Good evening, Juri-hakase." Juri smiled thinly. "I take it that I've been out for a while?" Mana nodded. "I know how hard you've been working on grading those essays, so I figured I shouldn't wake you." Juri frowned. "I have been working hard, but not as hard as when I ..." She trailed off. "When you were in high school?" Mana finished. "Right," Juri muttered, distractedly. "Well, you're not a teenager anymore, Juri-hakase," Mana said patiently. "Pulling all-nighters is easy when you have all that adolescent energy pounding through you, but you're twenty-six now ..." Juri sighed at the lecture. "You're right. I'm not a child anymore." She started to make some adjustments to the mild amount of clutter on her desk. "Any messages while I was `out'?" Mana's head dropped out of sight, and a moment later she appeared standing in the doorway, carrying a small white envelope. "Yes, this was slipped under the door. I thought it might be a note from one of your students or ... someone else, so I haven't looked at it too closely." Juri momentarily rolled her eyes at the vague suggestion in Mana's tone. She had come to terms with her celibacy long ago, when she had finally realized that Shiori was never going to return her love, and that since there was no one else -- <-- almost no one else --> Juri blinked at the odd rider on her own thoughts, then shook her head as she took the letter from Mana's outstretched hands. It was marked "To Arisugawa Juri". "From Kettou no Shourisha." For a moment, it rested in Juri's hands, and then it slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers to drop to the desk. "Hakase?" Mana asked, a concerned note in her voice. "Is something the matter?" Juri took a deep breath. "No, everything is fine," she lied smoothly. "It's just that this is from someone ... someone that I wasn't expecting to hear from. A surprise." Which *was* true, as she had no idea who `Kettou no Shourisha' was, and so couldn't possibly expect a letter from him. She also did not know why the thought of a letter of this sort should cause her such shock. "It was slipped under the doorway, so you didn't see who it was from?" Juri asked. "No," Mana replied, shaking her head for emphasis. "I took a quick peek out the door after I picked it up, but there was no one in the hall. "I see. Thank you, Mana. Why don't you go home, now? It's well past quitting time, isn't it?" "You're sure that you're all right?" Mana asked, dubiously. "I really am fine, Mana," she lied again. "Thank you for your concern, though." The girl was an incurable mother hen ... "All right," Mana said, turning to go. "I'll see you tomorrow, Juri-hakase." Juri waited until she heard the door to the office close before she let out the long, deep breath that she'd been holding. Slowly, she took up the letter in her left hand, and a silver letter opener in her right. Even more slowly, she cut away at the envelope. Within the envelope was a single card, with writing on both sides -- elegantly shaped kanji, from the hand of a master calligrapher. On the side which faced up as she pulled the card from the envelope: "The Duellists and others who ought to remember will meet in the Meiji Shrine's Outer Gardens this evening, at ten o'clock. Your presence is required." It was unsigned. She flipped the card onto its reverse side. In the same hand: "The secret of childhood is to never believe that you will one day die. "The secret of adulthood is ..." The rest was blank. Juri only vaguely realized what she was doing as she rose up from the desk, walked around it, and took up her coat. Only as she stood on the threshold of the outer office did she pause, and take a deep breath. "Stop it," she said to herself. "You are one of the youngest people -- and *the* youngest woman -- ever to earn an associate professorship at this university. You are a credit to your discipline, and to your gender. You --" <-- were a Duellist.> "-- were the captain of the Fencing team in high school and in university. You have no reason to be rushing out to the Meiji Shrine simply because of a vague feeling of deja vu." That *did* describe her feelings about the letter far more accurately that the term she had spoken did. Not only that it seemed a familiar sight, but that the entire experience seemed to be something she had done before. Receiving a letter, and then acting upon the information related within it. But she could not for the life of her remember where or when or how it had occurred, before. A moment later, the door to the office of Arisugawa Juri, Ph.D., closed once more. * * * Some few moments after that, Juri walked slowly through the gardens of the Meiji shrine. The full moon transformed them as it cut through the clouds, bleaching away the greens and browns for a mixture of blues and greys. She had not seen another human being since arriving at the gates of the shrine. Strangely, this didn't bother her much. Even beyond her usual reserve and desire for privacy -- which had mellowed from the legendary levels she'd had in high school -- there was something eerily familiar about this. Walking alone in the moonlight, wondering whether or not she might meet someone -- Who? It didn't matter. And then she came upon a clearing and stopped dead in her tracks. she thought. A moment passed, and she wondered where that inspiration had come from. She slowly gazed across the vaguely circular glade, looking for the evidence which prompted the intuition. A major difference between fencing and other methods of combat is that the practitioners of the "art" of swordfighting are much more aware of the potential for lethal injury inherent in their styles than the average fist-and-foot-fighter. Part of this is ameliorated by the protection that they wear, but the fencer also learns a sensitivity to the physical behaviour of the opponent ... and trains other senses to add to the information gathered. Reflexes outpaced thought as she spun around to intercept whoever she'd sensed about to touch her back. That individual, for his part, sensed her motion almost as soon as it began and leapt back a full pace, his hand up in a gesture which could have been either a warning or a defensive block. The moon came out from behind the clouds and shone on his bright blue hair and strangely innocent face ... Juri blinked. "Miki?" she asked. "Sempai!" Kaoru Miki replied, his lips turning up in a sudden smile of relief. "It is you ... I wasn't sure ..." "So then do you normally approach women from behind like that on cloudy nights?" she snapped, feeling the adrenaline drain out of her system. He looked deeply embarassed as he lifted his hand to the back of his head and laughed lamely. "I'm sorry ... I didn't think it all the way through, I guess." She couldn't help herself but smile as the last of the tension fled her body. "Same old Miki," she murmured, not bothering to hide the fondness in her tone. "How are you? How have you been?" "Never better," he assured her. "The second `Something Shining' collection is almost ready for release, after I work a few of the bugs out. After that, there'll probably be a tour." Miki paused, then shook his head. "I'm not sure how I feel about that, to tell the truth. It's .... awfully *big*, the idea that people in America liked the first one enough that my producer thinks they can make money by sending me over there to perform. A lot to take in." Juri nodded. "Believe it or not, Miki, I had the same jitters the first time I taught a class at Tokyo University." "You did, sempai?" he asked, startled. She flinched. No use lying to him. "For the first second or so. Then fencing club instincts took over and I made sure that they were paying attention." Miki smiled at that. "Yes, I can believe that. But ... it's scary, yes, but it's inspiring too. All those people liking what I do with a piano." He shook his head. "And for years, I thought that I was just messing around without knowing what I was doing." That reminded her. "How is your sister?" He sighed. "Living with an all-girl motorcycle gang and dealing heroin. Considering some of the other things she's tried, she's fine." Juri stared at him, aghast. "It's her life, sempai," Miki explained patiently. "I can't protect her from her own decisions, and I've gotten tired of being angry and upset about things she does to *make* me angry and upset. In any event, if most of the information I have is correct, she's happy where she is." He shrugged. "What more can we ask?" She shook her head, almost sadly. "Ah, Miki. I was wrong. You *have* changed, for better or for worse." He spread his hands and bowed slightly, in the manner of one who asked forgiveness. "I couldn't help it. Ten years work their magic." She nodded. "On me as well. In any event, what brings you to the Gardens at this hour?" A cloud passed over the moon once more. Miki's face passed into shadow. "I received a letter telling me to come here. From `The Victor of the Duel', whatever that means." Juri felt her jaw fall, but no sound issued from her throat. "You as well?" he asked. She could only nod. "Do you understand it?" Slowly, she shook her head. "For my part, I believed that it was perhaps a challenge by another practitioner of kendo who had probably seen far too many samurai dramas, and wished to recreate some scene from one of them as he attempted to defeat me. It would seem that this is not the case." Miki and Juri slowly turned to look at the new speaker, who stood on the fringes of the clearing and examined his surroundings with an air in parts inquisitive and disdainful. His moss green business suit went well with the faintly green tinge of his hair. "Good evening, Saionji-sempai," Miki said after a moment. "Kaoru. Arisugawa," Saionji Kyouichi acknowledged, briskly yet politely. "From your conversation, I take it that neither of you is responsible for the letters." Juri's eyes narrowed. "How long were you standing there listening?" "A few moments," Saionji replied, shrugging. "Should you be concerned that I overheard any private moments between the two of you, rest at ease. I neither heard anything, nor cared to." Miki let out a sigh. "I'm not the only one who hasn't changed much," he murmured, just loudly enough for Juri to hear. She showed her appreciation for the sly insult by letting out a brief snort of laughter. "I suppose it could have been worse," Saionji continued to muse out loud. "My supervisor could have intercepted the letter before it reached my desk, presumed that it referred to one of those `live theatre cults', and then I would have been subjected to a lengthy lecture on how engaging in that sort of behavior was *not* in the best traditions of Tokyo Maritime Fire Insurance and --" Something clicked in Juri's mind. "Just a moment," she interrupted. "You received the letter at work?" He frowned at the interruption, but nodded. "When?" Saionji considered. "Presuming that the receptionist delivered it to me almost immediately after its arrival ... perhaps seven o'clock. Why?" Instead of replying at once, Juri turned to Miki, who anticipated her question. "It was delivered to the receptionist at the studio, about fifteen minutes before we got out. Call it around six thirty." Juri envisioned a map of Tokyo, placing Tokyo University and the Shinjuku offices of Tokyo Maritime Fire Insurance. "Where's the studio?" she asked. "Roppongi district." After a moment of thinking, Juri shook her head. "Not possible. One person couldn't have gotten to all our locations at the times that we're supposed to have received the letters." "Then obviously there was more than one person involved in the delivery," Saionji commented with ill-concealed disdain. "I suppose neither of you thought to ask about the person who delivered it?" she pressed on, ignoring him. "It's not the sort of thing you ask when you get a letter, sempai," Miki pointed out delicately. "Wonderful," she muttered. "We're drawn to an obscure meeting by someone whom none of us have seen, because of an impulse none of us understand but cannot deny. I suppose next the mastermind will step out of the trees and mock us for falling into his trap." "I wasn't planning on it." Juri's eyes closed in a spasm of psychic pain as she heard the bemused voice from behind her. Reluctantly, she opened them again to look over her shoulder. "I suppose you're wondering why I called you all here?" Kiryuu Touga asked, a smile playing on his lips as he looked over them. His black suit and trousers were well-pressed under the beige trenchcoat he wore. "Then it was you," Miki snapped. "No. However, I've always wanted to say that. Lovely as always, Juri. Kyouichi, looking well. Are we still on for next week's match?" "Assuming that whoever brought us here permits us to leave alive, certainly." Saionji smiled with a vaguely wry expression. A deep sigh came from a few yards behind Touga. "Quit fooling around, niichan." A much shorter blonde figure with a long pony tail stormed into view. She wore hiking boots and a pair of short shorts supported by a pair of suspenders over a tanktop, with several large pouches hanging from her belt. "We each got a letter delivered," she announced, pulling one up to the light. "Naturally, the jackass calls me up to see if I need a ride. I'm going to be nice and presume that none of you sent this damn thing. Am I right?" A long silence fell. "Hello, Nanami-san," Miki said belatedly. Kiryuu Nanami fixed him with an icy purple glare. "Hello, Miki-chan. Steal any boyfriends lately?" Miki flushed. "He wasn't your boyfriend and we didn't --" He broke off, and turned away. Juri didn't even try to bother being subtle as she stepped between the two of them. Subtlety had never worked with Nanami. "No, Nanami-san, I don't think anyone here sent the letters." Nanami gazed levelly at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay. You and niichan were the only ones that I seriously thought would have tried something crazy like this, and you're too wrapped up in that honor shit to lie outright about it like that." "Thank you for the compliment," Juri replied without a trace of moisture in her tone. "Just out of curiousity, how do you know that your older brother didn't do it?" "I'm wounded by your your lack of faith in me," Touga said, with a genuinely hurt expression. "As it happens, I showed my dear little sister the letter which I received ..." He trailed off as he reached into his trenchcoat pocket. Nanami held up a pair of identical cards. "They both look genuine, but it's still possible that he just wrote one for himself. Still, I think this would have been a lot better handled if he did try something like this." Touga simply sighed and looked put-upon. "Nanami, honest little sisters don't pick their brothers' pockets." She smiled sweetly. "Touga, honest big brothers don't wait until their step-fathers throw their sisters out of the house before letting them know that they're blood relations." Juri let the sounds of the two squabbling Kiryuu siblings fade out. Clearly, no one here was responsible for the letters. She felt something like anticipation quickening in her stomach, and tried to soothe it. Despite Touga's posturings, she couldn't see whoever had sent the letters actually appearing. It would be far more likely for him -- or her, she reminded herself -- to just sit back and watch their paranoia do the job for him. "Excuse me?" Juri looked up and the sounds of the argument faded. A young woman, perhaps a year or so older than Nanami, dressed in a fashionable yet practical sweater and skirt, stood on the outskirts of the clearing. Her clear brown eyes gazed at the assembled people with a confused and slightly baffled air. A single curl of chocolate hair rested against her forehead. "Um, I don't mean to interrupt your ... whatever, but would one of you happen to be the Victor of the Duel? I'm supposed to meet this person here, and I'm also supposed to meet my sister-in-law for a movie so I'd like to get it over and done with as soon as possible?" "You received a summons here?" Juri asked. She couldn't recognize the girl, but ... "Uh, yeah. Wait. Oh, I get it ... you people are the other, um ...." She fished in her purse for a moment, then produced a card. "The other, `Duellists and people who ought to remember', right?" She looked up. "Do any of you have any idea what this is all about?" "Not really, no," Saionji replied. The girl seemed to notice him for the first time, and blinked. "Um. Well ... um, I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Shinohara Wakaba, and --" "Excuse me," Miki interrupted. "Didn't you attend Ohtori Academy at one point?" "Yeah," Wakaba replied with a nod for emphasis. "Up until my first year of high school, when my dad decided to transfer me to a school in Switzerland for some reason." She paused, then suddenly turned to stare at Touga. "Wait a minute ... I recognize *you*! You were the Student Council President my first year there ... all the girls were crazy about you!" Touga sighed, but seemed pleased all the same. "Well, I can't escape my reputation after all." "Like you try," Nanami muttered. "All right, other than having attended Ohtori, what connection do all of us have?" Juri began. "Now, Touga-san, Kyouichi-san, Miki-san and I were the Student Council at Ohtori in 1998 --" "Ten years ago," Wakaba interrupted. Juri paused. "True ..." Miki blinked. "Actually, it's ... ten years ago, tomorrow, was when the elections for our replacements were held." And there had been something else, as well ... "Maybe niichan's replacement embarked on a scheme of vengeance after realizing the mess he'd been saddled with," Nanami opined. "That does seem like a possibility, Nanami-san," Juri replied. "Really?" "No." As Nanami smoldered, Saionji spoke up. "Well, I know my connection to Touga, at least -- we still spar occasionally. And I believe that Nanami-kun watched us." He turned to Wakaba. "Shinohara ... no, Wakaba-san, can you think of any possible connection between yourself and anyone present?" Wakaba considered. Suddenly, there was a glint of recollection in her eyes. "Well ... yes, but it's rather embarasssing." She took a deep breath. "I ... sent a love letter to someone here, because I had a crush on him. It's a bit embarassing, because of what happened next ... he posted it on a bulletin board for everyone to read --" "I am so sorry," Touga interrupted. "I truly had no idea that you would be so wounded by the rash action that I took with your letter to me, and --" Wakaba lifted an eyebrow. "I sent it to Saionji-sempai." "You did?" Saionji asked, sounding startled. "... yes," Wakaba admitted. "I think you were involved with someone else, and --" "I don't remember doing this," Saionji interrupted. "But ... I must admit that it does sound like the sort of thing that I might have done -- or let been done -- in that situation. I'm very sorry, Shinohara-san." He bowed, slightly. Wakaba blinked, and flushed a bit. "It's not ... I was over it the next day, practically. It's all right. I ..." She trailed off. "What?" Juri asked. Wakaba sounded puzzled. "I ... got over it quickly. I read a book about another girl who had a crush on a guy, and how she was over it in a day, because she found someone else to love ... and I remember joking to someone that they were my new love. "But I don't remember who that was." "A boyfriend?" Miki asked. She shook her head. "I didn't get a real boyfriend until I left Ohtori, two years later." Wakaba laughed suddenly. "Maybe it was one of my girlfriends. You know how kids get sometimes. Anyway, it's not really important; it wasn't anyone here, I think." Juri was annoyed to note that Touga lifted an eyebrow as he looked at her. She said nothing, however. "Perhaps ..." Miki said into the silence that followed, "it's more important than you think." "What do you mean?" Saionji asked. Miki's brow was furrowed in thought. "The only connection that Wakaba-san has to the rest of us is this incident -- about which she seems to have just now remembered, correct?" Wakaba nodded, looking puzzled. "Juri-san, under what circumstances did we meet?" Miki continued. "Was it before you became the council treasurer, or afterwards?" Juri blinked. "I think," she said after another moment, "that I see what you imply. I do recall being elected to the student council ... but I can't recall the exact circumstances." Miki nodded, smiling tightly. "I'm not sure if it means anything," she added quickly. "I don't think about those years very much." "Why ever not?" Touga asked, sweetly. She shot a glare in his direction. "I did not enjoy adolescence -- nor have I sought to prolong it past its due." "In any event," Miki interjected, "Wakaba-san suffered the same sort of ... for lack of a better term, amnesia about her teenage years, which has faded as she has come into contact with the rest of us. Yet there is one detail that still eludes her." "Well, I said that it wasn't anyone here," Wakaba commented. "So it's probably just --" She broke off, and her eyes went wide. "You don't think ..." "It's possible that this person is the one who sent the letters. The Victor of the Duel," Miki confirmed. "So please, Wakaba-san ... *try* to remember your friend. Even the slightest detail --" He suddenly rounded on Saionji. "Are you sure that you don't remember anything about the incident Wakaba-san mentioned, Saionji-senpai?" Saionji shook his head, frowning -- then paused. "I ... think I might, at that. You have to remember, I was something of an ass then --" "We do," Juri said, deadpan. He smiled apologetically at her, and then continued. "-- and I did a fair number of oafish things. `One does not always care to remember the mistakes of one's youth'," he quoted, "but ... the more I think about it, I *do* recall doing something like that to at least *one* letter I recieved, though I can't recall the person who sent it to me." He frowned, suddenly. "But I *do* remember someone being extremely upset with me about it." "Who?" Miki pressed. Saionji shook his head. "Can't recall her name. It wasn't ... the person I was with at the time, although --" He stopped dead. "No. That's not important. The girl who was angry, though ... she did *say* that she was a friend of yours, Wakaba-san." "What else can you recall?" Juri pressed, growing interested despite herself. The entire affair was not unlike some of the most interesting research she'd done -- tracking down fragmentary references in a variety of sources to point to a truth that was never stated outright. "It's the strangest thing. She ... I can't quite believe it, but she was wearing a boy's uniform --" The revelation struck Saionji first, as his eyes widened in surprise. Miki opened his mouth to ask a question, and his jaw stayed at a lower level for a moment. Nanami blinked ... then glowered at her brother. Touga's mouth twisted in a half-ironic smile, while Wakaba blushed. And then it came to her in a rush. For a split second, she heard a fragment of a very old story in her mind's ear. `I am youth, I am joy, I am a little bird that has broken out of the egg.' As if the words were a key, a score of images flashed in her mind; images of a woman -- no, a girl -- with bright pink hair, enormous blue eyes, and a male school uniform that did nothing to disguise the femininity of the form within -- and most of all, an easy smile, and laughter. "Tenjou Utena," Juri murmured. "I don't believe this," Wakaba protested quietly. "How ... she was my best friend, all through elementary school. I *can't* have just forgotten about her, and only remembered her now!" "But you did?" Miki prompted. "But I did," the young woman confirmed. "It's like ... one day she was just gone. And I didn't care." Her eyes widened. "I didn't *care*? What kind of *monster* --" "Shinohara-san," Juri interrupted. "I suspect that we have little time for self-recriminations. The question you should be asking is not what sort of monster are you, but what sort of monster did this to you ... and is it the sort of monster that sent us these letters?" Wakaba subsided, although her eyes had a haunted expression. With her own memories of Tenjou returning swiftly, Juri could scarcely blame her. The girl had become involved in so many of the momentous events of Juri's own life in that year ... Shiori's return and the resolution of that situation ... that it was absurd to believe that she could simply forget her -- And then she realized. "There's more," she and Miki announced simultaneously, then exchanged a startled glance. Smiling faintly, the young man indicated that she should proceed. "We all knew Tenjou. Some, to greater degrees than others. Then she vanished, under unusual circumstances. Time to deal with those, later. But the question remains: How?" "How did we forget?" Saionji asked. "No. How did we come to know her?" "Well, she became involved with me when --" he replied. "That's very interesting, but what has it to do with *me*?" Juri interrupted, articulating each word. "From what I recall, I never gave you or your affairs a first thought, let alone a second. Why should *I* have taken an interest, to the degree that she was involved in *my* life as well?" "Or mine?" Miki confirmed. "I recall being upset at your general behaviour, Saionji-san, but what happened to cause me to come to know her? She was a year older than I. We certainly didn't move in the same circles before then." Saionji blinked ... and his face grew thoughtful. "You're right, of course. It makes no sense. She came to me, and challenged me to a Duel --" They almost all heard the capital letter ... and Saionji stopped in his tracks. Wakaba nodded. "Yeah, that's the sort of thing she'd do. Prince on a white horse, fighting duels to defend the maiden's honor." She looked around. "What?" "Duel?" Nanami asked, almost sounding as though it were a foreign word that she had never before encountered. "Why --" She paused, shook her head to clear it, and proceeded in a more normal tone of voice. "What were the circumstances of this ... Duel?" Saionji's eyes were far away, in the past. "We agreed to meet in the forest --" "The one that was off limits?" Wakaba asked. "Boy, you two really did live dangerously." Juri frowned. Why in the world was the girl making such flippant remarks about -- "You don't understand, do you?" Nanami asked, frowning. "Understand what?" Wakaba asked, blinking. "Make a sentence using the word, Duel." Wakaba stared. "Uh ... I watched a movie last night about a duel that Musashi fought in --" "It's different. When they talk about Duels, they're not talking about the duels that you know about. There's something more." For only a moment, Juri thought that she saw the same intensity on Nanami's face that the girl had shown in trying to get into her brother's pants. The second, lesser version of the word came off her tongue with difficulty. Juri quietly attempted to vocalize it herself, and found that she could not. "Anyway, what happened during the Duel?" Nanami asked Saionji, ignoring Wakaba's mystified expression. Saionji closed his eyes, and frowned such that his teeth almost peeled back from his lips in a snarl. "Damn this memory blockage. I can't ... we fought, obviously, and I think that she won but --" "In the forest, there was a staircase." Juri's heart skipped a beat. "You climbed it, and waiting there was a Princess dressed in red." She saw Miki's eyes widen as he slowly turned to look at the speaker. "And you drew a sword from within her heart, and fought." Saionji nodded, slowly. "Only this time was different. This time, a slip of a girl tore the rose from your breast, and claimed your trophy for her own." Nanami breathed a single word far too faintly for Juri to hear. "That's what happened," Touga said, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and tapping the ashes away from the burning end. "... when did you --" Juri began, rising anger in her tone. "Just now," the ex-president replied as he replaced the cigarette in his mouth. "I think that the difference may be that I observed it personally, rather than having it described later, at a council meeting. There are things in this world that you have to see to believe, after all." He smirked. "Of course, some of us insist that that is *all* that is in this world." She loathed him. "In any event," Touga pressed on, "that is what occurred, and it was not the only time that it occurred. In succession, each of those present -- not including Shinohara-san -- challenged Tenjou to a duel. And were ultimately defeated." With lacerating clarity, the images rushed on Juri. She blinked, and a tiny candle of rationality in her mind noted that all the others seemed to be caught in contemplating these restored memories. Even more than she had earlier, Wakaba seemed to be standing apart, looking at them with confusion. "I don't get it," Wakaba said at last. "Why? What was the point of all this?" "Oh, I imagine that someone might claim that there were countless deeply personal reasons that motivated each of the Duellists to their actions," Touga said, examining his cigarette and discarding it. He produced another. "But if you boil them all down to their essentials, it was all about desire." With his final word, he lit the cigarette, lending an almost Satanic light to his features. "It was never that simple," Miki interjected angrily. "Oh?" Touga asked, turning to look at him with an expression that hovered between a smile and a sneer. "When *you* first challenged Utena, it was because you wanted to possess something she had." "No it wasn't! I wanted ... I thought that she wasn't doing a good enough job protecting --" Miki broke off. "What?" Wakaba asked, getting annoyed. "Her complete collection of Ikeda's manga? What are we talking about here?" "Himemiya Anthy," Saionji answered quietly. Wakaba spent a few moments visibly thinking. And then she turned to stare at Miki with an incredulous expression. "Her *room-mate*?" "It was ... a situation more complicated than that." Miki couldn't quite meet Wakaba's look. Wakaba blinked, then gaped. "No way. No bloody way. Utena dressed like a guy, yes, and I had a lot of fun teasing her about that, yes, but she was in no way a --" She broke off, realizing that Juri was looking at her with a bored yet anticipatory expression. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," Wakaba concluded lamely. Juri didn't even have the heart to snort and turn away. The girl's almost deadly ignorance of what had actually been going on during her junior high school days lost all its humour in the wake of their regained memories. "Wait a minute." Wakaba suddenly turned to look at Saionji. "The girl you mentioned earlier, the one that you were with when I ... anyway, that was Anthy, wasn't it?" Saionji nodded in silence. "I remember Utena asking about her on the first day of school ... just a little before everything went crazy," Wakaba murmured pensively, then looked up. "I still don't get it. What was so special about her? The few times I hung around with both her and Utena ... I mean, she was nice and all that, but she creeped me out worse than anyone else ever has. Worse than my brother's old boss, and he could be *really* creepy --" "It wasn't so much her as it was what she represented," Touga replied. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Miki-kun, but when you looked at her, didn't you see all the things that you'd ever wanted from someone?" Juri closed her eyes, but couldn't shut out the voice. And the darkness only gave rise to the images ... of Anthy, holding out the flower and looking just like -- "Didn't she almost symbolize everything that you could ever desURRRK." Juri's eyes opened, and she looked towards where Touga was standing. Or rather, crouching and clutching his lower abdomen with a shocked expression. "Wrong, niichan," Nanami said as she lowered her knee, filling the word with contempt. She turned to address Wakaba. "Look, Shinohara. What he said about desire ... well, that's partially true. But it's not the whole truth. The whole truth ... look, in the years since my dad kicked me out on my ass, I've met a lot of people, and I've come to understand the one real thing you can say about them. People are a mixture of good and bad and smart and stupid, and the only reason that most of us do anything, even when it's bad for us, is that it seemed like a good idea at the time. It was the same when I challenged your friend to a fight and tried to cut her heart out. It seemed like the right thing when I did it." "Oh. All right then," Wakaba replied, surreptitiously trying to put as much distance between herself and Nanami. Nanami's right eyebrow twitched for a moment, then she sighed. "Look, we've been here nearly an hour. I'm supposed to catch a plane tomorrow morning. Would whoever is responsible for this please step forward and admit it so we can all get back to our lives?" No one stirred from their positions. "Didn't think so," Nanami muttered, then turned to glare at Juri. "You know, the one thing that really bothers me about all this is the way you *aren't* reacting to the memories." Juri blinked. "What do you mean?" "Memories that just come out of nowhere? Isn't that a little magical for your tastes? Maybe even, dare I say it, miraculous?" "No," Juri replied coldly. "Just strange and, for the moment, unexplained. Much like a castle hanging upside down in the sky inside a forest. May I take it from your comments that you believe that you have a more mundane explanation?" "Yeah." She turned to look at Wakaba. "You can't believe that you could ever forget the name of your best friend in junior high school. I hate to break this to you, but it's too *easy* to do that. I remember that I had three really close friends at that age, but I'm damned if I can remember their names, much less their faces. Eiko, Biiko, and Shiko?" She shook her head. "Whatever. The point is, people forget easily. Their minds get filled with new faces, new names, new feelings ... until all that they're left with is a bunch of misty water-coloured memories of the way they were. Or think they were, which amounts to the same thing." "But what about the way we just suddenly remembered, Nanami-chan?" Saionji asked, frowning. "You can't think that's natural." Nanami sighed again. "Yes, I can. Look ... who here is genuinely, completely happy with their life as it is now? Am I the only one here who has been thinking a lot lately about how much happier I was when I was a teenager?" Juri felt her heart skip a beat. Across the clearing, only Wakaba half-lifted up a hand, and then quickly lowered it. "Of course. And now, ten years after, we're all in the same place with a bunch of people who knew us as teenagers. It's understandable that we fall into the same sorts of thinking that we used then. Probably the same thing happens when people with normal families get together at the holidays. I wouldn't know. But I suspect that I do know who would want to cause something like that to happen." "Nanami ... I didn't do it. Seriously." "Touga, after all the crap you've pulled, I wouldn't believe you if you told me what time it was." She turned to look at her older brother where he lay sprawled on the grass. Almost imperceptibly, her face softened. "And yet ... and yet even as I look at you, I can remember how I felt when I was thirteen -- hell, when I was *sixteen*. How all I wanted in the world was to be loved by you, and to be the center of your world. But I'm not that person anymore. She's gone. But I guess parts of her still remain. And for whatever it's worth, somewhere in my heart .... I still love you, oniisama." And something moved through each of them. It felt like a wave of static electricity blended with the vibration of a struck piano key, or the clash of two blades. "What the hell was that?" Nanami burst. "Something mysterious and as-yet unexplained," Juri replied, deadpan. She scanned the faces present for signs of understanding. And wasn't too surprised to see something *like* understanding growing on Miki's face. "Oniisama," he muttered. Nothing happened. "Personalized for each of us then -- *of* *course*." He began to paw through his jacket pockets, and pulled something out with a look of exultation plastered on his face. He held the stopwatch up, and slammed his thumb down on the stop switch. And the sensation surged once more, perceptibly stronger this time. "I thought you gave your watch to Tsuwabuki," Nanami asked, confused and somewhat stunned by the sensation. "I did. I picked up another one the very next day. Some habits you never quit." He grinned now. "And that's the point. You were right, Nanami. If you spend any amount of time in the presence of people who've known you for a long time, you start reverting to old patterns of behavior -- and that's why we've been called here, just for that purpose. All of us have to find something that we did back *then*." "And then what?" Juri asked quietly. "Hell if I know." Ignoring them for the moment, Wakaba nodded. "Um ... Saionji-san? Would you mind turning your back for just a moment." With a mystified expression, he did so. She proceeded to back up two paces ... and without warning leapt into the air and came down on Saionji's back, wrapping her arms around his kneck and her knees around his waist. "UTENA-SAMAAAA!" she trilled. Again, the pulse leaped outward. "Or a fairly close substitute, relatively speaking anyway, sorry to startle you like this, Saionji-sama, but --" Wakaba babbled. "You did this to her often?" Saionji gasped as he tried to regain his balance. "Sometimes while she was leaning out an open window. Scared the hell out of her. Me too, but I hid it better." "Remarkable. I would never have thought such a scrawny, insolent, arrogant tomboy as she was could have endured such shock." Pulse. "Hey!" Wakaba said, gently whapping the back of his head. "Don't insult my Utena-sama!" She released her leg-hold, and slid down his back. "Well?" Miki asked. "Who's next? Sempai? Mr. President?" Touga slowly pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his trousers. "Well, I could try flirting with anyone present, but something tells me that it wouldn't go over well. So I suppose that there's only one thing to do." He drew a deep breath, and began. "If it does not break out of it's shell the chick will die without being born. We are the chick, the world is our egg. If we don't break the world's shell, we will die without being born. Smash the world's shell!" And Miki joined in on the final line. "For the revolution of the world!" The longest pulse so far surged through them, almost bringing Nanami to her knees. Miki whirled to stare at Juri. "Sempai," he said with exaggerated calmness, "you didn't join in." "I just don't think that this is going to work," she protested. "It doesn't make any sense that --" "Sempai!" Miki snapped. "Can't you feel it? Can't you feel that something is about to happen?" "No," Juri lied firmly. In fact, the sensation of imminence was almost overpowering. His face was frustrated beyond words. "Juri, for God's sake, we've got a repeated, controlled event. You're holding back a miracle out of pure stubbornness --!" "Miki!" she shouted, having been at last pushed too far. "There are *no* such *things* as MIRACLES!" And the miracle occurred. At first there was only a faint glowing light in the center of the clearing, but as each Duellist slowly turned to look at it, shapes and sounds began to emerge. In gazing into the image, what was within it became clearer to the eye. And what was within the image was a bar. Men and women sat at tables, muttering to one another over the faint sounds of clinking bottles. Slowly the perspective of the image changed, moving to the bar itself, where a woman sat, with long pink hair trailing over the back of her torn blue raincoat, staring down at the bar. And then she lifted her head, and they saw her face. And Juri regained her self-awareness as she heard herself gasp. Her face had changed even less than Miki's or Nanami's faces had .... so little that later Juri would wonder how she had entered the bar. But in the windows of her soul ... she was ancient beyond belief, and every wound that she bore could be seen written there. Her eyes were not those of a woman who has lost all hope. They were the eyes of a woman who doubted that she had ever had hope to begin with, and to see that in those deep sea blue eyes tore Juri's heart in half. Somewhere close, Juri thought she heard someone wimpering. Abruptly, a mustachioed man in an apron appeared in the vision, looking down at her. "Look, honored customer," the bar tender said with heavy sarcasm, "if you want to sit here, order something, will you?" She slowly opened her mouth to reply ... and then her eye twitched. She blinked, and began to stare. And at once, Juri knew that she could see them as clearly as they saw her. Her ocean-blue eyes seemed to pass over each of them, seeing them not only for who they were, but for who they'd been ... seeing how much had changed, and how little. Her eyes seemed to linger once ... just before she slowly smiled, giving the impression that the muscles involved had not seen much usage recently. She blinked again, and looked up at the bar tender. "Tea, please," said Tenjou Utena. And with those words, the image dissolved. Juri slowly regained awareness of her own body. At the moment, she was leaning against one of the trees, arms crossed over her stomach. The others were also strewn across the clearing in seemingly uncomfortable poses ... except for Wakaba, who knelt on the grass only a few feet away from where the vision had appeared, her hand outstretched. After a moment, she let the hand fall. Silently she rose and brushed off her knees before turning to look at the others. "Well," she said, and then nothing else for another moment. "That was interesting." She bowed slightly. "It's been very interesting meeting all of you. Good evening." With that, she began to walk away. "You're just going to leave?" Juri asked, finding her voice. "Without even trying to discuss or understand --" "Yes," Wakaba interrupted without turning to look at her. "These are strange and arcane things, and I want no part of them. I want to go back to my nice, safe life where I work in an office and I don't think that the entire structure of reality might turn into liquid at any given moment. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be running in desperate fear, now." "Wakaba-san," Saionji said quietly. "I think you missed your movie." Wakaba paused and looked at her watch. "Yep. Looks like. Damn. Oh well, I'll apologize to Noa tomorrow, and I mean it's not like they're really going to kill Ruri off anyway. I'll just tell her that I met an old school friend and we lost track of time talking." "Do you really want to lie to your sister-in-law?" She slowly turned to look at him with an odd, somewhat pinched expression. "What are you suggesting as an alternative?" Saionji visibly swallowed. "We could ... lose track of time talking. I promise not to tell you what happens at the end of the movie .... and not to discuss anything that happened here." For several moments, his words hung in the air. And then, quite clearly and quietly, Wakaba replied, "That could be nice." He started in her direction ... then paused to look at Touga. "I'll call you," he said. "I might not be free for that match after all." "Don't get your hopes up." With that, Wakaba beckoned him to follow her, and they headed off together out of the clearing. Nanami watched them go with an expression that someone might call faintly envious, and then turned to look at her brother. Within a second, she turned to look at Miki. She smiled faintly. "I've got a plane to a dig in Iran in twelve hours. I figure I can spend a few of them arguing with someone about what just happened. Up for it, Mickey?" He drew in a breath to reply, then slowly let it out as he turned to look at Juri. "Sempai," he said hesitantly. Juri surprised herself then, as she slowly walked towards him. And then she surprised both of them as she drew Miki into a firm but gentle hug. "Don't be a stranger, Miki," she whispered into his ear. His smile as she pulled back was dazzling. He ambled over to where Nanami was waiting with a somewhat shocked expression on her face, but she shrugged and walked off with him. "I know this great strip joint in Shinjuku. Much better than Chippendales ..." she said as they walked out of sight. And then there were two. "A night for odd pairings, I take --" Touga began. "When the memories came back, you looked smug," Juri interrupted. "Now, someone might take this as an indication that you knew something the rest of us didn't. But I know you a bit better than that ... and that look was the look of a man who knew something *just* *before* someone else discovers it." Touga silently pushed himself to his feet, and looked at her. For the very first time, she saw the faint evidence of age lines on his face. "Perhaps," he said quietly. "You knew everything that we found out tonight." She almost added the accusation that he had sent the letters ... but held back. "No," he replied quietly. "Only most of it, and a bit more. But I did not know that she was still alive. If I had believed that, perhaps I ..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "But it is too late for that." He adjusted his jacket. "And I have to be going now. I will probably have to have an early meeting tomorrow." A horrible certainty settled in Juri's stomach. "You know, I never did hear what you were doing these days," she said casually. He turned away. "As sole heir to the Kiryuu holdings, I live the life of the idle rich ... including a seat on the board of trustees of Ohtori Academy." He paused. "Someone has to stand watch over the devil, after all." And without waiting for her reply, he marched away into darkness. "It wasn't him," Juri said aloud, quietly. "And it couldn't have been her. And it wouldn't have been the other one. So that only leaves one person to send the letters." And then she stepped out of the shadows. "Excellently reasoned, Arisugawa-san," Himemiya Anthy said with her quiet, just slightly superior smile. In the darkest, quietest part of Arisugawa Juri's soul, the part that *hated* Shiori with a passion more intense than any of her burnt-out desire had ever felt, something broke down and wept at her likeness to -- And then it stopped. Anthy looked apologetic. "I am sorry, Arisugawa-san. I have more control over it than I once did, but it is still difficult." Juri blinked. The dark-skinned girl held her outstretched arm, hand ready to slap, in a firm grip. With a jerk, Juri pulled her limb back, and was grimly pleased to see Anthy step back out of her reach. Her appearance had changed much more than Juri's own had. The tight bun in which she'd worn her hair ten years ago was gone, and her purple hair flowed down her back without hindrance. The glasses she'd worn then were no more as well, and the gleam of her eyes in the moonlight told Juri that she wore no contact lenses. Her gray blouse and skirt were unremarkable, and thus suited a goal of concealment very well. "You did that, didn't you? Whatever that ... thing was, it was something that you brought into being somehow. Wasn't it?" The questions flew from Juri's lips like bullets. Anthy shook her head once. "Not quite true. I *facilitated* it, but you and the others were the ones who gave it power and focus. And as far as I know, what it revealed was the truth." She paused. "I hope." Juri only half-listened. "*And* you're the one who sent the letters, telling us to come here." "Correct." "What's so special about this place?" Juri asked tersely, looking around at the uneven borders of the cleared-out space. She could see no mystic pattern in the arrangement of the bushes or trees. "Why did it ... how did it happen, here?" Anthy's smile didn't change, but something about her eyes conveyed a sensation of wonder and amazement. "It is, perhaps, a coincidence, for I do not know how it can have come into being. But were you to look down at this clearing from several meters above it ... you would see that it resembles a rose." Juri finally focused on Anthy once more. "But ... but ... how?" she finally snarled. "If you were calmer, you would probably call it a science that you do not yet understand. It would take too long for me to fully explain, as my understanding is only a bit greater than yours." Anthy shrugged slightly. "But that's enough." "No it's *not* enough," Juri snapped. "You won't tell me how? Fine. Then I want to know why. I want to know what started this whole thing going." "First causes are difficult to determine," Anthy replied quietly. "Don't give me that! You *know* what happened, you were at the heart of it, you were *there* at the beginning, now tell me what --" Juri broke off. Anthy was no longer smiling. "Yes," she said in the same quiet tone as ever. "I was there at the beginning of the story. And I know all of it, as no one else could. Its recollection gives me no pleasure, however, and you would not believe parts of it. So I will tell you *a* story. "Once upon a time," she began after a moment of silence, "there was a prince and princess, brother and sister. Their parents had married to unite their realms, and their father was often away. And their mother had died giving birth to the sister. They were as close as two children could be." She paused, closing her eyes. "Perhaps too close. In any event, they lived together in a castle with no one else around. "And then a time of darkness came upon the land, and their father never came home again. And the brother, who was the last prince in the world, could hear the crying of all the girls in danger in the world, and knew that he must do something to help them. So he rode out on his white horse, and light rode with him. He battled monsters, mended hearts, comforted, caressed ..." Her eyes opened once more, and their expression was bleak. "But one can only stand so much glory. His travails began to tell on the prince, and his sister feared for his life. At last, she forced him to his bed, holding him there by certain magical arts which she had learned. But then ..." Anthy paused, and took in a long breath. "But then, his sister heard the voices of those who were calling out for her brother, and she, who had never spoken to another soul before that day, went out to answer them. I have sealed him away, she said. He is mine, and you cannot have him. Leave. Perhaps she believed that the threat of a magic great enough to bind the mighty prince would intimdate them into flight. If so, she was wrong." And with that word, there fell a terrible silence. Juri felt her mouth open to ask the question, "And then?" even as she stilled her tongue, dreading the answer. "They killed her." Another dreadful moment of silence passed before Anthy began to speak again. "Or at least, they made a very good attempt to do so. Among other things, they ran her through with swords many times over. There was no reason for her not to die ... except, perhaps, for the tiny spark of her own life she had placed in her familiar, a small monkey. "Her brother heard both their cry of `Witch!' and the screams of his sister as she was ... injured. After the mob dispersed and the spell broke, he went out, gathered her wounded body together and began the process of healing her. But he could only repair the wounds to her body, not those to her mind and soul. And as he mourned for his sister's shattered innocence, something within him began to fester. Before, he had believed that it was enough to be pure-hearted and try to heal the world's wounds. Now, he knew that was not enough; a world in which those whom he tried to aid could murder his sister was not a world worthy of him. He would have to bring the world ... revolution. "Something within him knew what the only possible end of this new train of thought could be, however, and took steps to prevent it. He sealed much of his power behind ... a barrier which could only be opened by a pure and noble heart. And within a very brief interval, the prince no longer possessed such a heart. "But by that time, he wanted his power back, no longer for the sake of changing the world for the better, but simply for the sake of making it over into his own image. And so, as the forces of darkness ever do, he looked for a loophole in the laws that the forces of light established -- and found it. Rather than attempt the impossible task of changing his own heart, he set out to shape ordinary humans into the sort of hero he had once been. And when at last he succeeded in doing so, he would draw forth that hero's heart and use it to open the barrier. "His sister was his willing partner in all of this. Indeed, it could never have been accomplished without her, for she alone possessed the magic to deceive and beglamour the heroes along their paths, and the magic to draw forth the `heart' from the body. Of course she aided her brother. He was, after all, the only being in the world who cared for her, and the only being she cared about. She would do anyhing for him. And he knew this, and used it. "Together, they knew many thousands of failures and near- successes. In time, her brother came to enjoy the game of creating a heart both noble and yet completely subservient to him. They were both immortal, after all, and had nothing but time. "And then, in the fullness of that time, between the two of them, they created a hero whose heart was noble enough to open the barrier ... but because it was the hero herself who did so, she gained the power to bring the world revolution. But she did not wish to do so, but only to atone for mistakes she had made in her quest, and free his sister from the torment into which she had fallen." And Anthy's lips moved, but it was the voice of a small child that reached Juri's ears, one with haunting familiarity. "`Do not be afraid of the world where we'll meet,'" and then in her normal voice, "the hero said, and gave his sister a reason to want to live. And with that, she freed herself. And her brother could not stop her, for he was too enmeshed in the illusionary world that he had made. "And so she went out, into the world, to rediscover the one who had taught her both freedom, and true love." "What had happened to her?" Juri asked into the long silence that followed. She refused to acknowledge the moistness on her cheek as anything other than sweat. "What happened to Utena?" "I do not know," Anthy said, her voice falling out of the patterns of the story-telling. "She vanished, and everyone forgot her. It is possible that even she forgot herself, or that she believed that she had failed, or that she was as wounded in body and soul as ... I had been, all those many years before. I only know that she is alive, and that I must find her. Before this night, I had not seen her face in ten years, though I have at times *felt* her." Anthy turned to look at the heart of the clearing once more. "That is why I summoned you, this evening. I felt her at her lowest ebb, and feared for her life. And so I gathered you here, at this place of sympathy, in hopes of reminding her what she did accomplish, even if she does not believe that she saved me from myself." She sighed. "It seems that I succeeded, and I now have more clues as to her location --" "Wait a minute," Juri interrupted, confused. "How do *you* know that you succeeded? She didn't seem any --" "She ordered tea," Anthy replied. "Ten years ago, yesterday, we promised that we would drink tea together." She closed her eyes. "I had all but forgotten. I wish that I had brought a kettle with me tonight. I will just have to drink tea with her when I find her." "You're still searching?" "Of course, Arisugawa-san. I have to find her. I love her." "What happens when you find her?" Juri asked, hating the quiet tremble in her voice. For there was something so quietly and tragically beautiful about the scenario presented. "She said that she wasn't ... what if you go through all that, and she doesn't love you like --" "It does not matter," Anthy replied, her expression unchanging. "But --" And the illusion of normalcy died, and it was all that Juri could do to hold in a scream as the impossible reality before her impacted on her senses. "It does not *matter*," the dark princess answered in a tone that brooked no disagreement. Her dress was fashioned of shadows that left nothing to the imagination and her hair streamed back in a wind that touched only her. And her eyes were green fire, burning with rage and guilt. "Once I rejected her because of petty considerations such as gender. I am free of that now. Sister, daughter, lover, *friend* ... what she needs from me is what I will choose to become." In a flicker, she became once more the quiet girl from years past. "It does not matter," Anthy repeated the princess' statement, and there was a catch in her voice. "We will be together again." Juri felt her heartbeat slow once more, and knew of a certainty that its easing could not be natural. "You're not even remotely human, are you?" she asked. And their eyes met. "I am as human as you would be, Arisugawa Juri ... had you been a slave to your mistakes for ten thousand years," Anthy replied. Juri turned away first. "In any event, I have what I desired: an idea of where she might be. It is, if nothing else, a beginning." Anthy paused, then continued in a somewhat lighter tone. "As for you who called yourselves duellists, your memories are once again your own. That should perhaps ease certain frustrations in your lives. In any event, I must be going." And she turned to do so. "Wait," Juri said, turning to look at the back of Anthy's head. "There is one thing left. On the back of the cards you sent us, there was a ... a quotation of some sort. Only it wasn't finished. I want to know the rest of it." "The quotation? You mean the secret? It's not a quotation, but I thought that the answer to my riddle would be obvious to someone of your education." There was no mockery in the tone. No obvious mockery ... Juri struggled to keep from snarling her contradiction. "It's not. I don't recognize the reference at all --" Anthy did not look at her. "There is no reference involved." She paused momentarily. "The secret of being a child is never knowing that you will one day die. The secret of being an adult ... is never forgetting that you once were immortal. Goodbye, Arisugawa-san. We will never meet again." And she was gone. Juri stood very still for a long moment after Anthy vanished into the bush ... and then, sparing only a moment to look back at the place in the heart of the clearing where the vision had appeared, she turned and walked away. <... never forgetting that you once were immortal,> she thought. It made no sense to her, and yet ... it seemed as though it should, and the puzzle filled her thoughts as she walked out of the park. And so failed to see the young lady running down the sidewalk and carrying a pile of books before her. Naturally, their courses intersected, and the collision threw them both to the ground amidst a rain of papers. Her train of thought completely disrupted, Juri lifted her head and glared at the girl, who seemed almost apoplectic in her apologies. "Are you all right?" the younger woman finally asked. She gazed at her with such earnest concern that Juri felt a frisson of guilt over glaring at her. "Fine, thank you. Here," she added, picking up one of the books that had fallen and handing it to the girl. As the girl took it, Juri noticed its title -- that of a fairly recent release from an American author, in its original language. "I can't fault your tastes in literature, even if I think you should watch where you're going." "I'm really sorry!" the teenager protested. "But I really didn't expect to see anyone come out of the shrine, since it's closed for the night." Juri looked over her shoulder. Of course, the doors to the shrine's grounds were firmly closed, even though she couldn't remember opening them to get out. She sighed. She realized that the teenager was staring at her with some confusion. "Is something the matter?" she asked as she rose to her feet. "Well, no ... it's just that you seem sort of familiar, but I can't remember --" Juri shrugged. "Perhaps you saw my face in an old magazine. My name is Arisugawa --" "Oh my gosh!" the teenager interrupted, her eyes swollen in shock. "*The* Arisugawa Juri-hakase?" Juri paused, and nodded. "I mean ... oh wow. My, my older brother was in one of your classes, and, and, and I am really looking forward to attending Tokyo University later this year because I want to study literature, and ... and .... uh ... I'm really sorry that I knocked you down." She smiled with desperation bordering on terror. "I'm sure you will do well at the university," Juri said, faintly embarrassed by the girl's obvious hero worship. "What is your name? I don't think you said, earlier." "Ibuki Maya. Very pleased to meet you." She bowed deeply. Juri thought bemusedly as she handed Ibuki a few of her papers. <... a child.> And all at once, Arisugawa Juri understood. "I'm very glad to meet you as well," she said, smiling. "And I look forward to seeing you on campus, Ibuki-kun." Now Ibuki was flushing as well, and bowed with a nervous little laugh before running off. Juri followed her with her eyes until the girl passed out of sight, and then turned to walk home herself. she thought with iron certainty. And so she walked on, making her own way, but as she did she couldn't escape the feeling that eyes were on her, though they looked with approval. What she could not guess was whether they were firey green or blue like an ocean wave ... * * * Epilogue "... and so the prince did accomplish what she set out to do, despite the pain it caused her ... because she believed that her friend was worth more than her friend believed that she herself was worth. And that made all the difference in the world." "Why?" the little princess asked. "You can only save someone if they want to be saved. So the prince saved her friend by making her want to be saved. And then ..." The beautiful woman trailed off. "Did they live happily ever after?" The ancient and eternally youthful girl known as Himemiya Anthy closed her eyes for a moment. "No," she breathed, and opened her eyes to see that the little princess' expression had become saddened once more. "Or at least, that part of the story hasn't been written yet. You see, after the prince's friend was saved ... she realized that the prince had vanished. And so the prince's friend set out into the world she had feared for so long, in search of her prince ... but also to follow in her footsteps, and to change the world in the same way that she had. The only way that ever makes a difference. "One life at a time." Anthy took a deep breath, and looked at the child who had begun to shiver. It was past midnight, after all. "Little one," she asked. "Do you really think your step-mother hates you? Or are you only afraid of that?" The little princess gulped. "I'm scared ... but ..." "It's all right," Anthy soothed. "It's all right to be afraid ... but it's important not to let fear get in the way of love. Do you love your step-mother?" "Yes," the little princess whimpered. "Then I will take you back to her, and --" A voice pierced the night, the voice of a woman in panic. "Sheila-chan! Sheila!" The little princess perked up. "That's --" "Your step-mother," Anthy guessed. "She seems to be looking for you. Why don't you go to her?" The little princess nodded frantically, and dashed off -- then paused to look back at her. "Will ... will I ever see you again?" Anthy shook her head. "I don't know. But ... little one?" "Yes." "If you ever see a beautiful girl with pink hair and deep blue eyes, bearing up alone beneath grief ... tell her that Anthy loves her." The little princess' eyes widened. "Y-yes!" And in less time than it would take to tell it, or indeed to breathe to begin the telling, the woman vanished. The little princess paused as the realization of wonder soaked into her bones ... and then turned and dashed towards her stepmother who ran through the graveyard, and who grabbed her into a tight embrace and shouted in anger and wept in relief. And then they went home, away from the cemetary and the magic within it. And the little princess never forgot the story, and many many years later when she grew up, having never lost her strength and nobility, she did meet the woman again, and met the prince of her tale, as well. But that's another story, and will be told another day. The End, For Now Author's Notes Well. Let's see. In the time that I've spent writing this, Utena has become vastly better known than it was at the start, thanks largely to the commercial release of the first thirteen episodes by CPM/Software Sculptors. There's been a fair amount of fanfic already, including one story on just this topic which really pissed me off. But someone told me that my story was less wrong than that one, so I'm happy. While the basic idea (ten years after, the Duellists reunite) was in place around March of 1998, much of the elaboration of it is owed to Scott "Zagyg" Johnson (author of some kick-ass Utena fanfic of his own and all-around good guy) who suggested a way to draw this story into my Together Again continuity. Initially, I was reluctant to do so, as I planned on having "Shoujo Kakumei Utena" be as popular an anime in that universe as it is here; in particular, Sheila Tenkai (the little girl in this story) was a major fan of the series. However, Scott's account of Dios and Anthy's Silver Millenium origins was so appealing and fitted in so well with the ideas I'd already had about that period that I just had to work it in. Credit is also owed to "Kotori" and Paul "I have no cute nickname" Corrigan for looking over the story at various times and not killing me in the arguments that followed. I'd also like to thank Nicole "Dreiser" Manders, another kick-ass Utena author, for much needed laughter while I was writing this. I hope she approves of the match I chose for Juri. Yes, Nanami *is* my favorite character. And, yes, I had a lot of fun envisioning her in Lara Croft's usual get-up, and giving her a line from an essay by Harlan Ellison (contained, for the curious, in the screenplay of "City on the Edge of Forever"). "Revolutionary Girl Utena" was created by BePappas and brought to North America by Central Park Media. This story, incorporating characters held under copyright by others, is copyright 1999 of Chris Davies. Nobody Sue Me Okay? Chris Davies, Advocate for Darkness, Part-Time Champion of Light. "Get yo' hands off'n mah Utena!" -- Shinohara Wakaba, Revolutionary Girl Utena, "For Friendship, Perhaps" (dub) http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/banks/277/index.html